Sleeping Apollo

Chapter 35

       Celia was sat up in bed. She read from a small book, 

a pocket book.

          Titus Andronicus always thrilled Celia more than a bit but now, now the plotting, the secret intentions and vengeance and malevolence

became for her a book on manners. A primer she might become

eligible to re-write. Would Billy Shakes think it an affront to have this

his goriest work weaponized centuries later? She thought not and proceeded to whap Bo in the head with the small fraught volume.

              “Bo, sit up, I have to tell you stuff'.” Celia declared shaking and nudging her Phoebus in slumber.

                       “Aaaaaawwww, c'mon Cee, you promised you'd let me sleep. I'm not a wabbit.” Bo didn't move and barely so did his mouth. Reapin n' sowin just wore Bo out.

                      “Boy's got no stamina. Maybe he don't eat right.” Celia continued, “Bo, C'mon, I know you're spent. I spent ya. I want you to

listen, just listen.” Celia shook Bo until an enthusiastic “Aaaaagh” was tendered. In respect of Celia's promise not to jump on him again, he

rolled over and tried to appear attentive.

             Cee proceeded to confess and unload the entire situation 

about Bo's now shattered galaxy. Cee spoke for near half an hour

while Bo said nothing until she brought current events right up to that moment and concluded with;

            “Will you help? Are you in?”

             “Well yeah I'm in, and the chucks. Can I sleep now?”

        Bo returned to slumber instantly and Celia kissed his available temple goodnight and  with that went back to reading;

                  Our past times done, possess a golden slumber

              Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds

                              Be unto us as is a nurse's song 

                           Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep .

  "Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."