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 rewrite. 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 pastimes 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.