R.I.P. the Beast

The Beast is dead. We are in shock. One moment he was just lumping along, the next—Ka-Thud. The best doctors were summoned, and are now gibbeted in the dungeon. Sudden Decline Syndrome, they tell us. We hold a massive funeral and force everyone to attend. It is desperately sad. ‘We are touched, touched,’ we say, ‘by so many people having turned up. Many of whom hardly knew our Beast.’ We all hold on tightly to Rachel to keep ourselves together. Closeness is important during times of grief. Behind our masks of tears are masks of tears. We decide to hack up the Beast and distribute his meat (wholesale) to the villagers. ‘Because there is a little Beast in us all,’ we say. ‘We know it is what he would have wanted. To put something back. He would have wanted to put something back.’ We swoon with grief. Rachel is beside herself. We are beside her also. She locks herself in the shower. Distraught, we lock ourselves in the shower with her. You see there is a secret passage. We each have a key but the secret passage is more exciting. We may never come out. I produce the handcuffs. Closeness is important during times of grief.

The Beast is Dead. Long Live the Beast!