Awkward Turtle Sightings [Erasuristesque]

AWKWARD TURTLE SIGHTINGS

[ENYA, BRUNO SCHULZ and a BOWL OF UDON NOODLES IN BROTH sit in lawn chairs in a blind near a forest lake, each gracefully squinting through binoculars. ENYA wears a muumuu with a pattern of little bleeding snowmen on it. BRUNO SCHULZ is entirely naked, save for a spiked collar and a Donald Duck cummerbund. The BOWL OF UDON NOODLES IN BROTH is, in secret, not wearing any underpants. With one hand holding up her binoculars, ENYA uses her free hand to expertly shell pistachios and dismissively feeds them to BRUNO SCHULZ, who chews each one with slow, steamy relish. The BOWL OF UDON NOODLES IN BROTH sweats uncomfortably.]

ENYA

There’s one.

BRUNO SCHULZ

Hm, Love?

ENYA

Apalone spinifera. Large. Beautiful neck.

BRUNO SCHULZ

I see.

ENYA

No.

BRUNO SCHULZ

No. But I trust you.

ENYA

Also, graptemys flavimaculata.

BRUNO SCHULZ

Oh?

ENYA

You don’t trust me?

BRUNO SCHULZ

With my candied life, Comely Master.

ENYA

Hm. Chelus fimbriatus.

BRUNO SCHULZ

With my candied life.

ENYA

Do you love me, or do you love your fear of losing me?

BRUNO SCHULZ

It’s all that you’re not that makes me love you. It’s a love of omission.

ENYA

Deirochelys reticularia.

BOWL OF UDON IN BROTH

And though we are not now that force that in days of yore moved mountains and carved paths for rivers, that which we are, we are; one tender, noble and childishly thieving spirit, weakened but polished by time, given texture and character by its careful patina, and relenting not in our artfully futile, ceaseless reaching for the bright blossoms in our night skies, burning atomic furnaces, the only objects we know we can’t harm.