Captain Louttit is placed on a silver tray, reserved for sacrificial animals.
What just happened? he cries, to the endangered quoll lying beside him.
The endangered quoll raises its mask.
Nothing, says the endangered quoll. It's just a party.
Can we go now? asks Captain Louttit.
Not till they bring out the poached hearts and kidneys, says the endangered quoll.
Hell's maritime bells! exclaims Captain Louttit.
Only kidding, grins the endangered quoll.
The endangered quoll rolls over to the edge of the silver tray and drops off gracefully.
Captain Louttit does the same.
........
Camus has quit the twisted canapé in the black room, leaving Unni alone there.
The Red Death stalks the corridors.
People in their Gothic costumes draw back fearfully.
Ooh! The Red Death! Is it catching?
A tall man in a dark cloak spiked with silver studs and a mask made of broken glass fragments approaches.
Aah! Prince Prospero, perhaps he will slay the Red Death, and save everyone in the abbey (or Hobart Town Hall).
He draws a serrated steel knife from under his dark studded cloak.
(Sharp Gothic intakes of breath are sucked into the lungs of the Gothic observers. Uuuh! Uuuh!)
Shooong!
He plunges the shining knife into the costume of Albert Camus.
Woooouuufffff. The costume of Albert Camus collapses to the Town Hall carpet, (woven lovingly by local artisans).
Gothic couples crowd forward gingerly. The Red Death is.... dead?
Someone bravely lifts the pitted red plague mask from the face of the dead one.
Let's see his face! Let's all see it!
But amazingly, unless you have read the Poe story, in which case you know it, there is no one behind the mask, or inside the costume. No one at all.
How is it done?
It is only too easy in fiction.
........
Arthur has finally found Unni in the black room.
Here she is, still sitting on the twisted canapé, fingering her ipod.
Arthur! says Unni.
How did you know it was me? asks Arthur.
The red beret, says Unni. You've cut eye holes. That's such a lame costume.
You missed the dénouement, says Arthur. Beaudelaire slew the Red Death. The Red Death appeared to be real, then it wasn't. It was merely a symbol.
No it wasn't, says Unni. It was Albert Camus.
No one knows that, says Arthur.
He does, says Unni. We'd better find him.
They leave the black room.
......
Camus is sitting on a green canapé in the green room, recovering.
Beaudelaire walks in, as if nothing has happened.
Espèce de con! growls Camus.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Friday, June 13, 2014
Beautiful Wanton Bizarre
Gaius and Schopenhauer are cycling back to Hobart.
Here they are now.
It is early evening and the outdoor markets are closed. The lights are coming on in the cafes. Dead leaves litter the pavement. There's a wintry chill in the air.
They sit down on a park bench. Schopenhauer closes his eyes.
Gaius fiddles about with his phone.
A black shape flits past, behind them.
It is Captain Louttit, escaped from his prison. He wears a black cloak, made of something he found in a cupboard, tied round his neck with red string.
On his face he wears a fantastic horned mask made of his own discarded carapace, made blood red by boiling.
He is heading for Hobart Town Hall.
........
At the Town Hall, a masked crowd is gathering, dressed in delirious fancies and madman fashions, beautiful, wanton, bizarre.
They show their tickets, and flow through the door, into the seven chambers.
Each chamber is decorated in a single colour. Blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet......and the last room is black.
A band plays peculiar music. Ding-ding-dong-yeeee. A clock strikes. The band stops. The striking ends. The band plays. Ding-dong-yeeee.
There are cocktails, wines, aperitifs, sacrificial offerings.
And Red Death is stalking the corridors.
.......
Camus thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. What's he supposed to do next?
Where is Charles Beaudelaire? Where is Arthur Rimbaud?
He sits on a twisted canapé in the black room, next to Unni.
Go on, urges Unni. Do your thing.
Camus pulls the Red Death costume down over his trench coat, and adjusts his red pitted plague mask.
He gets up and performs a dispirited plod round the room.
A bizarrely dressed couple come in, and stare at him.
She: That's the Red Death.
He: Fuck is it?
She: Did you not read the......geez, Henry, you're hopeless.
He: Let's get some more of that cheese.
.........
Captain Louttit is enjoying the evening.
He slips under tables and chairs. His black cloak hides his soft body.
His red horned mask hides his expression of glee.
Suddenly, he is whisked up into the ether, by a black leather gloved hand, and placed on a stone slab.
The clock strikes. The music stops. A knife flashes.
Then laughter. And more ding-ding-yeee.
Here they are now.
It is early evening and the outdoor markets are closed. The lights are coming on in the cafes. Dead leaves litter the pavement. There's a wintry chill in the air.
They sit down on a park bench. Schopenhauer closes his eyes.
Gaius fiddles about with his phone.
A black shape flits past, behind them.
It is Captain Louttit, escaped from his prison. He wears a black cloak, made of something he found in a cupboard, tied round his neck with red string.
On his face he wears a fantastic horned mask made of his own discarded carapace, made blood red by boiling.
He is heading for Hobart Town Hall.
........
At the Town Hall, a masked crowd is gathering, dressed in delirious fancies and madman fashions, beautiful, wanton, bizarre.
They show their tickets, and flow through the door, into the seven chambers.
Each chamber is decorated in a single colour. Blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet......and the last room is black.
A band plays peculiar music. Ding-ding-dong-yeeee. A clock strikes. The band stops. The striking ends. The band plays. Ding-dong-yeeee.
There are cocktails, wines, aperitifs, sacrificial offerings.
And Red Death is stalking the corridors.
.......
Camus thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. What's he supposed to do next?
Where is Charles Beaudelaire? Where is Arthur Rimbaud?
He sits on a twisted canapé in the black room, next to Unni.
Go on, urges Unni. Do your thing.
Camus pulls the Red Death costume down over his trench coat, and adjusts his red pitted plague mask.
He gets up and performs a dispirited plod round the room.
A bizarrely dressed couple come in, and stare at him.
She: That's the Red Death.
He: Fuck is it?
She: Did you not read the......geez, Henry, you're hopeless.
He: Let's get some more of that cheese.
.........
Captain Louttit is enjoying the evening.
He slips under tables and chairs. His black cloak hides his soft body.
His red horned mask hides his expression of glee.
Suddenly, he is whisked up into the ether, by a black leather gloved hand, and placed on a stone slab.
The clock strikes. The music stops. A knife flashes.
Then laughter. And more ding-ding-yeee.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The Fantastic Red Horned Mask
It is the weekend. Captain Louttit has the place to himself.
He hatches a plan to escape from the CSIRO private salt water aquarium.
But wait! Before leaving, a red mask for tonight is in order.
He gathers together large fragments of carapace, and clutching them tightly, rises to the surface.
He then clambers out of the private saltwater aquarium.
He waddles over to the communal kettle, at the end of the bench, and flicks on the switch.
Soon the water is boiling.
He drops pieces of carapace in.
Will they turn red? Well, he hopes so.
Magic! They naturally do.
Now Captain Louttit drags himself to the cupboard and looks for appropriate tools.
Scientist always have scrapers and cutters and files.
And that's what he finds in the cupboard.
He settles down in the corner to fashion a fantastic red horned mask for tonight's Red Death Ball.
........
Arthur and Beaudelaire have gone off together somewhere.
Perhaps to find a dead fish, or bamboo sticks, or just an espresso.
Whatever the reason, Unni is alone with Camus.
He seems to be expecting that she will now wear the new hat.
She shoves it into her backpack. It immediately loses its shape.
A darkness lurks at the back of the eyes of Camus.
She remembers his novel. The knife. The blinding flash of sunlight. The random unexplained murder.
But no.
You should find out more about Dark MOFO, says Unni.
I suppose so, says Albert Camus.
Let's ask Lisa, says Unni. She's over there.
They go over to where Lisa is standing in front of a fish stall, poking knowledgeably at heaps of dead fish.
Lisa, says Unni. What exactly is MOFO?
It's our cool winter festival here in Hobart, says Lisa. A celebration of art, food, music and film. Actually, more than cool, it's always effing freezing! I hope you've brought your warm thermals to wear under your costumes tonight.
Sounds awesome, says Unni. Are you going?
Not to the Red Death Ball, says Lisa. Two hundred and forty dollars a ticket! I don't think so. You guys are so lucky. But hey, how come you don't know?
She looks suspiciously at Albert Camus, who affects to look like a man who is going to a Red Death Ball in full possession of the relevant information.
Oh, you do know, says Lisa. Well, guys, have fun! Sacrifice an animal for me! Ha ha! Only kidding.....
........
Red Death Ball Costumes. Sacrificial animals. Thermal undies.
It might suit Beaudelaire. But Camus can't imagine why he was invited.
He hatches a plan to escape from the CSIRO private salt water aquarium.
But wait! Before leaving, a red mask for tonight is in order.
He gathers together large fragments of carapace, and clutching them tightly, rises to the surface.
He then clambers out of the private saltwater aquarium.
He waddles over to the communal kettle, at the end of the bench, and flicks on the switch.
Soon the water is boiling.
He drops pieces of carapace in.
Will they turn red? Well, he hopes so.
Magic! They naturally do.
Now Captain Louttit drags himself to the cupboard and looks for appropriate tools.
Scientist always have scrapers and cutters and files.
And that's what he finds in the cupboard.
He settles down in the corner to fashion a fantastic red horned mask for tonight's Red Death Ball.
........
Arthur and Beaudelaire have gone off together somewhere.
Perhaps to find a dead fish, or bamboo sticks, or just an espresso.
Whatever the reason, Unni is alone with Camus.
He seems to be expecting that she will now wear the new hat.
She shoves it into her backpack. It immediately loses its shape.
A darkness lurks at the back of the eyes of Camus.
She remembers his novel. The knife. The blinding flash of sunlight. The random unexplained murder.
But no.
You should find out more about Dark MOFO, says Unni.
I suppose so, says Albert Camus.
Let's ask Lisa, says Unni. She's over there.
They go over to where Lisa is standing in front of a fish stall, poking knowledgeably at heaps of dead fish.
Lisa, says Unni. What exactly is MOFO?
It's our cool winter festival here in Hobart, says Lisa. A celebration of art, food, music and film. Actually, more than cool, it's always effing freezing! I hope you've brought your warm thermals to wear under your costumes tonight.
Sounds awesome, says Unni. Are you going?
Not to the Red Death Ball, says Lisa. Two hundred and forty dollars a ticket! I don't think so. You guys are so lucky. But hey, how come you don't know?
She looks suspiciously at Albert Camus, who affects to look like a man who is going to a Red Death Ball in full possession of the relevant information.
Oh, you do know, says Lisa. Well, guys, have fun! Sacrifice an animal for me! Ha ha! Only kidding.....
........
Red Death Ball Costumes. Sacrificial animals. Thermal undies.
It might suit Beaudelaire. But Camus can't imagine why he was invited.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Red Death Ball
On the beach, Gaius and Schopenhauer look for the smear spot.
It was here, says Schopenhauer. Just here, near that stone.
That's helpful, says Gaius, bending down and gazing intently.
Anything? asks Schopenhauer.
Nothing, says Gaius.
So much for science, says Schopenhauer.
........
At 'Hats on Salamanca', Beaudelaire will not look at Camus.
He is staring at Arthur
That beret doesn't suit you, says Beaudelaire.
I know, says Arthur, taking it off.
He offers Beaudelaire a whole fudge bar.
Kahlua Dream.
You monkey, says Beaudelaire. Do you still fight your friends with dead fish?
Bamboo sticks, says Arthur.
If you don't want that beret, says Unni. I'll have it.
He wants it, says Albert Camus.
Beaudelaire glares at his comrade.
..........
In the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre private salt water aquarium, Captain Louttit sheds the last bits of his shell.
Aah, that feels better. He flexes his soft parts. Ooh, ooh, ooh, aah.
He looks around at the bare walls of the laboratory.
No wait, they are not bare at all.
Near the door is a cork board pinned with notices and posters.
One is a red and black poster for MOFO.
Dark MOFO: The Red Death Ball. It's on this weekend.
Captain Louttit, lover of Poe and his spine-chilling stories, makes a resolution to go.
...........
So much for science? says Gaius. You don't mean that. We're just getting started.
Are we? says Schopenhauer. I thought this was the end point.
An end point in science, says Gaius, is never an end point.
Then why is it called an end point? asks Schopenhauer (quite reasonably).
It was you who called it an end point, says Gaius ( just as reasonably).
True, says Schopenhauer. But may I ask, now what?
We consider why we have failed, says Gaius. In fact I have already considered it. We didn't follow the coastline.
Schopenhauer is impressed with this line of thinking which now seems so obvious.
They leave the beach, as the tide is coming in, to wash away the last traces of what it was Schopenhauer slipped on, wherever it happened to be, which was not in the place they were looking.
So much for an end point.
It was here, says Schopenhauer. Just here, near that stone.
That's helpful, says Gaius, bending down and gazing intently.
Anything? asks Schopenhauer.
Nothing, says Gaius.
So much for science, says Schopenhauer.
........
At 'Hats on Salamanca', Beaudelaire will not look at Camus.
He is staring at Arthur
That beret doesn't suit you, says Beaudelaire.
I know, says Arthur, taking it off.
He offers Beaudelaire a whole fudge bar.
Kahlua Dream.
You monkey, says Beaudelaire. Do you still fight your friends with dead fish?
Bamboo sticks, says Arthur.
If you don't want that beret, says Unni. I'll have it.
He wants it, says Albert Camus.
Beaudelaire glares at his comrade.
..........
In the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre private salt water aquarium, Captain Louttit sheds the last bits of his shell.
Aah, that feels better. He flexes his soft parts. Ooh, ooh, ooh, aah.
He looks around at the bare walls of the laboratory.
No wait, they are not bare at all.
Near the door is a cork board pinned with notices and posters.
One is a red and black poster for MOFO.
Dark MOFO: The Red Death Ball. It's on this weekend.
Captain Louttit, lover of Poe and his spine-chilling stories, makes a resolution to go.
...........
So much for science? says Gaius. You don't mean that. We're just getting started.
Are we? says Schopenhauer. I thought this was the end point.
An end point in science, says Gaius, is never an end point.
Then why is it called an end point? asks Schopenhauer (quite reasonably).
It was you who called it an end point, says Gaius ( just as reasonably).
True, says Schopenhauer. But may I ask, now what?
We consider why we have failed, says Gaius. In fact I have already considered it. We didn't follow the coastline.
Schopenhauer is impressed with this line of thinking which now seems so obvious.
They leave the beach, as the tide is coming in, to wash away the last traces of what it was Schopenhauer slipped on, wherever it happened to be, which was not in the place they were looking.
So much for an end point.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Where He Gained Strong Impressions
It's not far to Hobart. They get to the markets by nine.
The Salamanca Market is full of tourists buying colourful produce and browsing the bric-a-brac stalls.
Unni spots 'Hats on Salamanca', on the corner of Mr Wooby Lane.
She goes over to look at the hats.
Arthur has not followed Unni. He has stopped at the House Of Fudge stall, to examine the fudges.
Camus has stopped at Macarons by Ruby, to check out the fresh macarons.
Beaudelaire looks at a display of toy wooden boats with nostalgia. As a young man he once sailed to India, and gained strong impressions.
Unni stands in front of the hat stall.
A hat for the lobster? says someone. How about that one?
She turns. It's Lisa Gershwin.
Hi, Lisa, says Unni. A hat, yes. How did you know?
He's done nothing but grumble, says Lisa. I'm sure it's to do with the moulting.
All these hats are too big though, says Unni. And they're not really for captains.
A military cap would do nicely, says Lisa. And that one's quite little.
Unni picks up a military cap, in distressed weathered cotton, with decorative stitching. Yes, that would suit Captain Louttit.
Arthur arrives, his pockets bulging with something.
What's that in your pockets? asks Unni.
Samples of fudge says Arthur. Licorice bomb, Tassie Tiger, Ginger Infusion and Kahlua Dream.
I didn't know they gave samples, says Lisa.
They don't, says Arthur, surprised.
Here comes Albert Camus with a box of macarons from the House of Ruby.
Found a hat for your lobster? asks Albert Camus.
Yes, says Unni. This one. She waves the military cap in the air.
Memories of Algiers, smiles Camus. And how about you? May I buy you one? This one is so chic.
He points to a pale blue felt cloche with a self-coloured flower.
Lisa giggles.
And who is your friend? asks Albert Camus.
Lisa. She's a scientist and jellyfish expert, says Unni. Lisa, this is Albert Camus.
I recognised him, says Lisa. He's here for Dark MOFO. Hello, Albert. Been buying macarons?
Yes, for my wife and children, says Albert. Look. Four pink ones, two blue ones.
He opens the striped macaron box.
Strawberry and Cream, Sour Cherry, Rose, Raspberry, Blueberry, Boysenberry.
The perfect macaron family, says Lisa.
Would you like a hat, Lisa? asks Albert, overdoing the gallantry.
Thanks, says Lisa, but no.
I'll have one, says Arthur, picking up a red beret. This one reminds me of Ageless.
Done, says Camus.
And before anyone can stop him, ( not that anyone tries) he has paid for all three of the hats. What a charmer.
And now here comes Charles Beaudelaire, with a brown paper parcel.
He has purchased a boat, yes, a toy one, and is currently happy.
But what is this? Camus has pipped him. Bought everyone hats! Including the fictitious lobster.
Merde! What a bâtard!
The Salamanca Market is full of tourists buying colourful produce and browsing the bric-a-brac stalls.
Unni spots 'Hats on Salamanca', on the corner of Mr Wooby Lane.
She goes over to look at the hats.
Arthur has not followed Unni. He has stopped at the House Of Fudge stall, to examine the fudges.
Camus has stopped at Macarons by Ruby, to check out the fresh macarons.
Beaudelaire looks at a display of toy wooden boats with nostalgia. As a young man he once sailed to India, and gained strong impressions.
Unni stands in front of the hat stall.
A hat for the lobster? says someone. How about that one?
She turns. It's Lisa Gershwin.
Hi, Lisa, says Unni. A hat, yes. How did you know?
He's done nothing but grumble, says Lisa. I'm sure it's to do with the moulting.
All these hats are too big though, says Unni. And they're not really for captains.
A military cap would do nicely, says Lisa. And that one's quite little.
Unni picks up a military cap, in distressed weathered cotton, with decorative stitching. Yes, that would suit Captain Louttit.
Arthur arrives, his pockets bulging with something.
What's that in your pockets? asks Unni.
Samples of fudge says Arthur. Licorice bomb, Tassie Tiger, Ginger Infusion and Kahlua Dream.
I didn't know they gave samples, says Lisa.
They don't, says Arthur, surprised.
Here comes Albert Camus with a box of macarons from the House of Ruby.
Found a hat for your lobster? asks Albert Camus.
Yes, says Unni. This one. She waves the military cap in the air.
Memories of Algiers, smiles Camus. And how about you? May I buy you one? This one is so chic.
He points to a pale blue felt cloche with a self-coloured flower.
Lisa giggles.
And who is your friend? asks Albert Camus.
Lisa. She's a scientist and jellyfish expert, says Unni. Lisa, this is Albert Camus.
I recognised him, says Lisa. He's here for Dark MOFO. Hello, Albert. Been buying macarons?
Yes, for my wife and children, says Albert. Look. Four pink ones, two blue ones.
He opens the striped macaron box.
Strawberry and Cream, Sour Cherry, Rose, Raspberry, Blueberry, Boysenberry.
The perfect macaron family, says Lisa.
Would you like a hat, Lisa? asks Albert, overdoing the gallantry.
Thanks, says Lisa, but no.
I'll have one, says Arthur, picking up a red beret. This one reminds me of Ageless.
Done, says Camus.
And before anyone can stop him, ( not that anyone tries) he has paid for all three of the hats. What a charmer.
And now here comes Charles Beaudelaire, with a brown paper parcel.
He has purchased a boat, yes, a toy one, and is currently happy.
But what is this? Camus has pipped him. Bought everyone hats! Including the fictitious lobster.
Merde! What a bâtard!
Monday, June 9, 2014
Modernity Absurdity Discovery
Gaius and Schopenhauer get up early and head for the beach on their bicycles.
Beaudelaire is a grumpy old codger, says Schopenhauer.
Indeed, says Gaius. He reminds me of you, in some ways. Though I don't mean to say that you're grumpy.
Of course not, says Schopenhauer. I have good reason to be cheerful. Travelling, eating fine food, becoming an expert in all matters scientific......I believe I'm on the brink of discovering a new jellyfish species. You and I will be feted.
Yes, yes, says Gaius. But being feted is not why we do it.
Of course not, says Schopenhauer quickly.
They stop at the edge of the beach and look for the smear of the jellyfish from yesterday evening.
...........
Arthur and Unni, Camus and Beaudelaire are also up early.
They meet at the front of Villa Howden with their bicycles, and set off in the direction of Hobart.
Beaudelaire rides up behind Arthur.
That Schopenhauer is a funny old codger, says Beaudelaire.
He's all right, says Arthur. And what's more he pays for everything.
Same old Arthur, says Beaudelaire.
Ah! says Unni, who is right behind them You do know each other!
Yes, says Beaudelaire. We do.
Unni drops back level with Albert Camus.
What's your thingummy? asks Unni.
Pardon? says Albert Camus.
Literary thinger, says Unni. You must know what you're going to?
Charles! calls Albert Camus. What is it we're going to?
MOFO! yells Beaudelaire. Don't ask me. No doubt it stands for something.
That sounds typical, says Albert Camus.
It sounds modern, says Unni. Will you be reading a poem?
I doubt it, says Camus. What's that thing you said you were going to?
The Salamanca Markets, says Unni. We're in search of a hat.
Very nice, says Camus, imagining Unni in a hat. A perky French one. How cute she will look.
A captain's hat, for a lobster, says Unni.
What did she say? asks Beaudelaire, who has been trying to listen.
A captain's hat for a lobster, says Arthur, helpfully. He lost it.
Beaudelaire is a modernist. In fact he invented the term
In French of course. Modernité, or whatever.
The point being, he likes anything new.
Like a captain's hat for a lobster.
He cheers up instantly. Life is no longer tedious. He will gladly do MOFO.
But first he will go to the Salamanca Markets with these absurd young people, and look for a hat for a lobster.
No doubt Camus will go too.
Beaudelaire is a grumpy old codger, says Schopenhauer.
Indeed, says Gaius. He reminds me of you, in some ways. Though I don't mean to say that you're grumpy.
Of course not, says Schopenhauer. I have good reason to be cheerful. Travelling, eating fine food, becoming an expert in all matters scientific......I believe I'm on the brink of discovering a new jellyfish species. You and I will be feted.
Yes, yes, says Gaius. But being feted is not why we do it.
Of course not, says Schopenhauer quickly.
They stop at the edge of the beach and look for the smear of the jellyfish from yesterday evening.
...........
Arthur and Unni, Camus and Beaudelaire are also up early.
They meet at the front of Villa Howden with their bicycles, and set off in the direction of Hobart.
Beaudelaire rides up behind Arthur.
That Schopenhauer is a funny old codger, says Beaudelaire.
He's all right, says Arthur. And what's more he pays for everything.
Same old Arthur, says Beaudelaire.
Ah! says Unni, who is right behind them You do know each other!
Yes, says Beaudelaire. We do.
Unni drops back level with Albert Camus.
What's your thingummy? asks Unni.
Pardon? says Albert Camus.
Literary thinger, says Unni. You must know what you're going to?
Charles! calls Albert Camus. What is it we're going to?
MOFO! yells Beaudelaire. Don't ask me. No doubt it stands for something.
That sounds typical, says Albert Camus.
It sounds modern, says Unni. Will you be reading a poem?
I doubt it, says Camus. What's that thing you said you were going to?
The Salamanca Markets, says Unni. We're in search of a hat.
Very nice, says Camus, imagining Unni in a hat. A perky French one. How cute she will look.
A captain's hat, for a lobster, says Unni.
What did she say? asks Beaudelaire, who has been trying to listen.
A captain's hat for a lobster, says Arthur, helpfully. He lost it.
Beaudelaire is a modernist. In fact he invented the term
In French of course. Modernité, or whatever.
The point being, he likes anything new.
Like a captain's hat for a lobster.
He cheers up instantly. Life is no longer tedious. He will gladly do MOFO.
But first he will go to the Salamanca Markets with these absurd young people, and look for a hat for a lobster.
No doubt Camus will go too.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
And Once It Was a Cattery
Villa Howden is just down the road. A historical French or Italian-style villa built in the 1970s. A retreat, and later a cattery. Now a luxurious Band B, in beautiful manicured grounds.
Luckily, they have a vacancy, although it is late in the day.
Schopenhauer is elated. He immediately takes off his trousers. (As soon as he gets to his room).
Gaius goes into the French style sitting room, and sits by the fire, to wait for Schopenhauer to deal with his stain.
A sour-looking gentleman in a black coat looks up from his reading.
Very nice here, says Gaius. French provincial . Wonderful doors.
The sour-looking gentleman looks at the doors, scowling.
A man hurries in through the wonderful doors, wearing a gabardine trench coat.
There you are, growls the sour-faced man.
Camus! says Gaius, recognising his old acquaintance.
Gaius! says Camus. Are you here for the thinga-me-jig?
No, no, says Gaius. The jellyfish. But not here exactly. My travelling companion has sat upon something and we're really just here for the laundry.
Join us for dinner, says Albert Camus. This is my friend Beaudelaire. He's also here for the thingummy.
A literary thingummy, says Beaudelaire. In the middle of winter. Nothing could be more tedious.
Yes, says Gaius, nothing's more tedious than a thingummy.
Ha ha, laughs Camus. Still the same old Gaius.
Gaius looks puzzled.
Arthur and Unni come down from upstairs.
Ah! says Gaius. Come here, Arthur and Unni. This is Albert Camus, and his friend Beaudelaire, here for a winter literary thingummy. Arthur too is a poet......
Beaudelaire! says Unni. My dad's a Beaudelairian! Ever since he met Charles Red-Belly, the python.
Of course, says Gaius. Charles Red-Belly! And dear Olive Python! How long ago that all seems....
What exactly do you mean by a Beaudelairian? asks Beaudelaire.
Oh you, know, says Unni. Evil is natural. The Chinese tell the time by looking into the eyes of cats.
Beaudelaire looks flattered. He glances at Arthur.
Arthur makes a face like a cat.
But before things can go any further, Schopenhauer comes into the sitting room, wearing complimentary slippers and a matching complimentary dressing gown.
Forgive the informality, says Schopenhauer, smiling. No trousers.
I believe you sat on something unpleasant, says Camus. Did you succeed in getting it off?
The main bulk of it, says Schopenhauer. but there's a pink stain in the middle.
I knew it , says Gaius. It's a lions mane jelly. We must return to the beach in the morning.
Not me and Arthur, says Unni. We're heading back into Hobart, for the Salamanca Markets.
So are we, says Camus. Perhaps we might go back together. Are you cycling?
Yes, says Unni. Are you?
Oh yes, says Camus.
Camus on a bike. Now that is entirely believable. But Beaudelaire? That does stretch it a bit.
Luckily, they have a vacancy, although it is late in the day.
Schopenhauer is elated. He immediately takes off his trousers. (As soon as he gets to his room).
Gaius goes into the French style sitting room, and sits by the fire, to wait for Schopenhauer to deal with his stain.
A sour-looking gentleman in a black coat looks up from his reading.
Very nice here, says Gaius. French provincial . Wonderful doors.
The sour-looking gentleman looks at the doors, scowling.
A man hurries in through the wonderful doors, wearing a gabardine trench coat.
There you are, growls the sour-faced man.
Camus! says Gaius, recognising his old acquaintance.
Gaius! says Camus. Are you here for the thinga-me-jig?
No, no, says Gaius. The jellyfish. But not here exactly. My travelling companion has sat upon something and we're really just here for the laundry.
Join us for dinner, says Albert Camus. This is my friend Beaudelaire. He's also here for the thingummy.
A literary thingummy, says Beaudelaire. In the middle of winter. Nothing could be more tedious.
Yes, says Gaius, nothing's more tedious than a thingummy.
Ha ha, laughs Camus. Still the same old Gaius.
Gaius looks puzzled.
Arthur and Unni come down from upstairs.
Ah! says Gaius. Come here, Arthur and Unni. This is Albert Camus, and his friend Beaudelaire, here for a winter literary thingummy. Arthur too is a poet......
Beaudelaire! says Unni. My dad's a Beaudelairian! Ever since he met Charles Red-Belly, the python.
Of course, says Gaius. Charles Red-Belly! And dear Olive Python! How long ago that all seems....
What exactly do you mean by a Beaudelairian? asks Beaudelaire.
Oh you, know, says Unni. Evil is natural. The Chinese tell the time by looking into the eyes of cats.
Beaudelaire looks flattered. He glances at Arthur.
Arthur makes a face like a cat.
But before things can go any further, Schopenhauer comes into the sitting room, wearing complimentary slippers and a matching complimentary dressing gown.
Forgive the informality, says Schopenhauer, smiling. No trousers.
I believe you sat on something unpleasant, says Camus. Did you succeed in getting it off?
The main bulk of it, says Schopenhauer. but there's a pink stain in the middle.
I knew it , says Gaius. It's a lions mane jelly. We must return to the beach in the morning.
Not me and Arthur, says Unni. We're heading back into Hobart, for the Salamanca Markets.
So are we, says Camus. Perhaps we might go back together. Are you cycling?
Yes, says Unni. Are you?
Oh yes, says Camus.
Camus on a bike. Now that is entirely believable. But Beaudelaire? That does stretch it a bit.
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