Where the Homeless live Edit
“I hope Blue Tentacles won’t be too disappointed.” Silver Grey told Yellow as all in the craft turned their eye stalks in different directions to view the panorama of their new home. Purple concentrated on his driving but felt the same way. Truly nothing young Blue had seen at the mansion of his ‘father’, at Aunt Violet’s establishment, among his peers at educational establishments, had prepared him for the stark, natural splendour of the mudflats where the homeless lived. Indeed the wild shore was even muddier than the carefully maintained tourist mudflats and mudbaths that paying Centaurians could enjoy. A recent storm had washed down any amount of mud and debris from upstream and from other areas of the sea. Decaying matter floated in the sea, decaying matter was scattered round muddy areas, in rock pools, on beaches, everywhere. From the highest to the lowest centaurians love mud.
“Our Lord the Sun is blessing us homeless folk!” an older experienced Centaurian on the craft exclaimed.
The regular driver suggested that homeless Centaurians generally liked it if they stopped somewhere where they could forage for wild food. Afterwards Purple made an unscheduled stop at a place sheltered from the petpetual heavy winds but also where many scavenging creepy crawlies were feasting on washed up detritus. Yellow Tentacles and Silver Grey showed Blue which were the tastiest creepy crawlies and young Blue stopped worrying so much about the Patrician things he’d lost.
“I’ll race you! Let’s see who can catch more of those tasty blue-green creepy crawlies." Yellow challenged and both boys gladly got set into that game.
“I’ll catch more than you, I’ve done this sort of thing often!” Yellow started.
“My tentacles are longer than yours!” Blue countered as he reached down into the mud and scooped up some prey that had burrowed deeply to escape Yellow’s probing. The boys found the challenge exciting and it wasn’t at all clear which would win.
“I think I’m going to like living here with you.” Blue Tentacles began hesitantly, afterwards Purple and Silver Grey both relaxed their tentacles visibly seeing Blue was acepting his new life.
Then an older Centaurian, the one who had spoken about divine blessing before, got onto his tentacles as high as any Centaurian can reach and told the group the feeding would have to stop, others round him who had clearly discussed the matter agreed. All turned eye stalks towards the stranger and saw what was wrong. There was only a part of a head and three tentacles but it was clearly the remains of a dead Centaurian, presumably a victim of the recent storm. “We’ll have to lay that poor fellow to rest.” the speaker continued while other Centaurians nearby were arranged round him ready for the ceremony.
Blue fidgeted and his tentacles kept changing colour, existence could be good among the homeless while one was alive but there was the other possibility. What about that dead Centaurian?