An
old lady and an old man sit on an inflatable sofa.
He said it
was like 1938 to 1939 all over again.
I know.
Teetering
on the brink, dithering in the face of disaster. All all too late, nothing to
do about it, we were all doomed. Doooomed! No one believed him.
Not now.
Earth
heating up, waters rising, washing us away in the swell!
Leave it.
Let’s rest a little.
I worked
for him after they put him in a nursing home, tight as a tack he was.
Was he?
He was! I
put his dentures in a tin and shaved his whiskers with my fingers to save on
razors.
Of course
you did, makes sense now you say it. Now, are you going to buy me a drink, I’ve
come a long way.
I don’t
know you, do I?
You do, we
talk ever day. My drink? Please?
Another one
said Noah’s ark was real, found the planks and everything.
Everything?
Don’t need
Noah now, and a boat would be a waste of time. They’re building rockets to Mars.
Branson’s in on it; he’s one of them.
One of who?
The chosen
ones, been selling tickets on shuttles to his rich friends for years; we’ll be
left to fend for ourselves.
He wouldn’t
do that. He’s got a nice smile.
Dinosaur
teeth, they all have: Cameron, Charles, Camilla, Cilla.
Cilla?
Black! Cilla
Black! My scrotum is litmus. All that itching, it senses things, can tell a bad
one from a good one, it knew the deluge was afoot.
Rained 400
days so it must have been very itchy.
And 400
nights, sandpaper on nylon sheets. I’ll get you that drink now.
Daft sod, I
was teasing you. Where are you going to get me a drink from?
Their
sofa wobbles in a swell, the gloop of dark water twisting and spreading under
the moonlight.
Could use a
cup to scoop it out.
We don’t
have a cup. And we can’t drink; it’s contaminated.
We’re done
for then?
Of course
we are.
Can you
swim?
Can you?
Used to be
able to.
There you
are then. Why don’t we hold hands, have a kiss maybe, share some of the old air
raid spirit?
My scrotum
is telling me this isn’t going to end well
You don’t
need your scrotum to tell you that. Now shut up and give me a kiss.
But I don’t
know you.
We’ve been
married for sixty years you silly old fool, now hold my hands and give me a
kiss.
Bert
takes Mary’s hands in his, and kisses.
‘Oh, your
lips are dry, love’, he says.
And a
wave suddenly moves them from view as a large rocket passes over the moon.
