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Oscar slapped his forehead almost comically, livid with exasperation.

"Lizzie? Tell me this isn't the final straw. Please, tell me. Is there any point in going on? At all? Because it really looks to me like we're fucked."

Mrs Mulberry nodded solemnly, as if to say: "Yes, dear, we're fucked. You're right, as always." Then she took another sip of her English Breakfast tea. It pained Oscar to think it, but sometimes he was no longer sure she was all there.

"Young Alex here..."

Ahem.

"Alex ate soup with his dead boyfriend. Ate. In a dream. In a dream with a physical manifestation. A dream in which, I might add, you made a personal appearance."

"Yes, dear. And a very pretty flower it is, too."

"Damn the flower!"

Mrs Mulberry smiled indulgently. Oscar could get so very exercised sometimes.

"If you say so, my dear. But isn't the source of the flower a greater concern? Aren't you in the least worried about this pivotal cave?"

"Now that you mention it..."
Posted by matt at April 22, 2005 10:00 PM