| The Masterpiece By Lynton J. Talmore
Part 1
Secretario battled throughout the night with the ontological theory of God, and its underlying implications. Was he simply constructing an ideological house of cards which would collapse when the incompatibility of the respective language games were exposed?
He began to play table tennis. Bending low, coming up twenty years away. A trade he had learned before he could walk. Cast out into the desert, wrapped in swaddling clothes, a bat in his puny hands. Hands that could rip apart a wild boar before he was six years old. As he played, the Parisian morning sun washed across the parquet floor of his cluttered apartment; across papers, bottles and political pamphlets, brushes, jazz records, saucers casually used as ashtrays. Then came a simply unmistakable laugh from beneath the balcony; Chameleon.
Chameleon could only be described as a maverick. Not a law-breaker as such, but not afraid to do 50 in a 40 mile-an-hour zone if he was in a hurry to get to the stationery store. He was always to be found staggering around the Egyptian quarter in the early hours of the morning, a cornish pasty in his hand, looking for bingo tickets. His friends all warned him against such fast living, but he would simply laugh in that charming way of his, leap on his Honda Dream motorcycle and cruise off to the next lingerie party.
But on this morning there was something unsettling in Chameleon's debonair countenance. something positively . . . not right.
'Secretario!' he called. 'Ginsberg has broken his toe!'
To be continued . . . | 
