Not One Drop Of Blood Running Through Him

It's a short drive from Goolwa Wharf to Goolwa Beach, where, Lauren hopes, Bob and Sweezus will still be surfing.

The van rattles and lurches.

What time is it? asks Lauren.

Nietzsche doesn't know.

The van squeals to a halt in the car park above Goolwa Beach.

Lauren gets out and goes across to the railing. Eyes squinting, scanning the ocean.

Nietzsche sits in the passenger seat, gazing at the back view of Lauren.

If he had a notebook and pencil, he would write down his conclusions, (or doodle her outline).

On the seat behind him, the back pack is open.

He hears the Catcher and Ageless climb out. Creak-creak.

Then the Elegant Parrot. Ssh-roosh.

Is this where the Infant resides? asks the Elegant Parrot.

No, says the Catcher. It's a stop on the way. We are here to meet Sweezus.

Don't tell me, says the Elegant Parrot. Let me guess.

He did tell you, says Ageless.

I mean let me guess things about her, says the Elegant Parrot.

You've got it wrong already, says the Catcher.

Oh. About him then, says the Elegant Parrot. I imagine he's a surfer.

Idiot, says Ageless. Cretin.

Steady on, says the Catcher.

Anyone could get that right, says Ageless.

I haven't finished, says the Elegant Parrot. A surfer called Sweezus. Unusual name. Is he connected to the Infant?

Pffft! says Ageless.

Yes! says the Catcher. They are brothers.

Brothers! scoffs Ageless.

I imagine they are connected by blood, says the Elegant Parrot.

Ageless can stand it no longer.

He will tell the truth as he knows it.

The so-called Infant, says Ageless, has not one drop of blood running through him.

You don't say! says the Elegant Parrot, impressed.

Doesn't he? says the Catcher. I hadn't thought of that. I guess he doesn't.

The back seat is quiet for a moment.

Nietzsche opens the glove box to look for a pen.

It falls open easily, the way old glove boxes do.

It probably won't close again.

Ah. A pen. He extracts it. Any paper?

Yes, an ancient and venerable box of old tissues.

Is seems Surfing-With-Whales is prepared for any eventuality.

Nietzsche starts writing things down. It is difficult, to write on a tissue.

By the way, says the Catcher. Our journey will continue by bicycle.

The Elegant Parrot's blue frontal band rises several notches. Bicycle?

Sweezus's face appears at the window.

Where the fuck have you guys been? asks Sweezus. I had this MASSIVE cramp and I would've appreciated some place to lie down.

Apologies, says Nietzsche. We tried to do the tour of the Coorong as fast as we could. But there was no hurrying the captain.

It's the closest he has got to a joke in a long while.

Lauren might have laughed, but the comical aspect is wasted on Sweezus.