Gwen & Art Are Not in Love

by Lex Croucher

“Afternoon, Ashworth. Is it Wednesday?” “Why are you half-naked and bleeding?” “I don’t understand,” Arthur said, turning to Sidney, “why nobody on my staff can give me a straight answer about the Wednesday thing.”

“You were lurking behind that wall—” “I wasn’t lurking.” “Okay, fine, you were reclining gracefully—with poise and dignity, as befits your noble house—behind that wall, spying on that woman.”

“Go where? Wait … Arthur,” Gwen said slowly. “Are you wearing two hats?” Arthur was; he swept the first off with a flourish. “Why are you wearing two hats?” “They call me Little Arthur Two-Hats,” he said. “No, they don’t.” “No, they don’t,” Arthur agreed, pressing one into Gwen’s hands. “But that’s because one of them is for you.”

“Now hang on,” said Arthur. “I’m a man, and my crotch isn’t a burden.” “Maybe not to you,” said Gwen. “But it’s a burden on the rest of humanity.”

“I made you a false mustache!” Arthur said, outraged. “I did crafts for you! The least you can do is act grateful.” “Thank you for my cat-hair mustache,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes.

“In that case, Sidney Fitzgilbert—I have decided to make a series of poor decisions in an attempt to clear my name in the eyes of those I love, most likely culminating in our untimely deaths.” “Well,” said Sidney, shaking out his shoulders and then settling into the saddle, chin stubbornly raised. “Good of you to announce it this time. Usually, you just crack on.”

“Does this … does this bird look agitated to you?” “Birds can’t look agitated.” The crow in question was standing right next to Arthur, doing a strange little dance—it kept turning its head from side to side, skipping away a few steps and then returning. “Oh,” said Sidney. “That bird looks extremely agitated.”

“To be truly brave, first you must be afraid—and to be afraid, you must have something you cannot bear to lose.”