“You came with us and—” the captain interrupts before being in turn interrupted as well:
“—But before leaving,” the King continues, “he tried to juggle too many possessions at the same time trying to impress me with magic tricks he barely believed in.”
“He didn’t want to end up as fodder to your She-Coat, remember?”
“He began to juggle children, candles, cash and jobs. That’s what did it. The magic was gone. Sometimes he dropped one of them and would carefully kneel down without any pressure showing, cool and smooth as an ice bloc, to pick it up while maintaining the balance of the juggling act and then kept going.”
“Has ‘a job’ got anything to do with Jove?” the Captain asks, “was he some venerable deity?”
“For fuck’s sake, Captain, look it up in your library!”
“Why cash, when gold is all that is needed?” Labaguette adds after having spent some time earlier salivating and eating away the ties that had kept him from speaking.
“—I don’t expect any bird or creature to answer this. It’s a rhetorical question,” the Captain says, embarrassed.
“Children needn’t be juggled,” the Commander adds, “they can pick themselves up.”
“Why?” the Captain continues, “how could anyone fall without being picked up again? Besides, how could any creature be kept in that juggling game as if their life depended on it?”
“It’s a bit thick coming from a scoundrel, a rogue without a home, without direction, and without heart, ain’t it?” the Commander retorts. “Now, let’s talk about your name, Captain, shall we?”
To be continued…©