Bit by bit, the process begins: Mouton Blanc starts to sweat heavily while looking into Labaguette’s eyes.  Huge, grey and greasy drops of sweat run down his body collecting more droplets as they slide along his belly, his legs and feet before falling in the cosmic vacuum below.  Mouton Blanc looks as if he might be losing weight.

“What is happening?” he asks, “I’m melting, no.  It’s not day light yet.  I don’t understand.  I—“

“—Don’t fret, it’s just sweat,” Labaguette comments, waving his wings in front of his nose as if to get rid of some stench.”

“I’m immortal.  I’m creature.  I’m creature that cannot die.  Never can die.”

“You’re a drama queen.”

“I can’t be going but I am.”

“Stop this and finish my portrait!”

“This drawing etched on the Insatiable Princess that you see here, Labaguette, is proof that I cannot die.  You will remember.  You will come to regret.”

“It’s a caricature.”

“It’s you.”

“Stop crouching like this.”

“I—“ but Mouton Blanc’s last words are lost as his head has reached the floor and his mouth is melting, eyes imploring.

It is too late: Mouton Blanc liquefies and drips into the void below, as other bits of his melted figure slide along the ship, finding their way underneath the Insatiable Princess.

Labaguette gives one disgusted and contemptuous stare at what remains of Mouton Blanc.

“Another one of your tricks?” he snarls.

This parrot’s soul shall be lifted no more is a thought that hits Labaguette as he recalls another bird.  When all that is left of Mouton Blanc is a grey puddle marbled with black lines and bubbling with sticky matter, Labaguette is overwhelmed by a sense of usurped satisfaction and loses his balance.

To be continued…


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