Backstage, the movement is easy to map… it begins with a slow dribbling of multi layered bodies from the white outside: tired, grumpy, unenthusiastic because of the too heavy load of these continual three show days.
The patterns become more complex, speaker announcements are made, their pace quickens, their bodies focus directed in the same way… towards the black curtains, which occasionally open – in order to send various of the strange furless bipeds out into the light, wearing odd things, that they shake before their many kittens.
From beneath the bleaches we continue to watch.
One of these grumpy, tired, bald bipeds is of particular interest.
It puffs and grunts and bends and stretches, all to no avail… as it’s strength is long past and it couldn’t kill a rat.
However, as it does most days, it’s brought a package… what’s in there today we muse?
We shall bide our time. Not look at all interested. Pretend in fact to be domestic and docile… just to get closer.
Oddly he thinks our presence is a form of acceptance and makes pathetic mewing sounds.
We do not swipe our tale, to reveal the truth… we shall watch & wait, just out of reach.
Another speaker call and he rushes away, towards the strange dead furry machine.
Just as usual, as earlier, as yesterday and the day before, he goes in the complaining machine to beyond the curtain.
It is time my brothers… no more shall we wait.
Much simpler than catching a rat… no life to give up, so no death fight, that was done time ago in the big puddle.
Simply, with precision, I pull back the linen wrap and reveal the ‘eurgghhhh’ bread… swat away (it falls to the floor) and there it is!… Beauty to behold, pink & thick, succulent & moist, four star salmon.
He has done well for us my brothers & sisters… no need to chase the chisel teeth today.
Though why he should sully such beauty with whey and curd, we do not understand.
Take the flesh and run for the dark, before the curtains open again and he returns panting and seeking our sandwich.