Eternal Rollers Of Victims

Arvo.

Roderick turns up in his van.

Ready to go? asks Roderick. Chuck your stuff in the back there.

Not this stuff, says Terence. This is Blue Claw's dream home.

And not the plum box, says Ageless, popping out.

Blue Claw follows him out of the plum box.

No room in here, says Roderick Coconut. Dream homes and plum boxes go in the back.

Bumhole! says Terence Can I go in the back?

No way, says Sweezus.

I'll go, says Arthur.

No one's going in the back, says Roderick Coconut. Only inanimate objects.

So everyone piles into the front of the van.

Gaius and Humboldt, with Terence and Celia on their laps.

Sweezus and Arthur with Ageless, Blue Claw, Kobo and Pinky on theirs.

Roderick heads for the airstrip.

You guys are lucky, says Roderick. There's a tropical cyclone coming. Should make landfall by tomorrow.

Very lucky, says Gaius. We've had good weather up to now..

Yeah, says Roderick. Good weather. And you've not been eaten by a crocodile, or stung by a deadly stinger.

And I've got a parrot, says Terence. And a Cherabin called Blue Claw.

He's not yours, says Celia.

Thank you, says Blue Claw, from Arthur's lap where he is sitting.

I caught him in my pot, mutters Terence.

How a person masters his fate is more important than what his fate is, says Humboldt.

YES! says Terence who has interpreted this wisdom to mean that he is the master.

Yeah, says Sweezus, always ready to ignore what his fate is.

My fate is sealed, says Arthur. Lighter than a cork I dance on the waves.

Shit, man, says Sweezus. You need antibiotics.

Here we are, says Roderick Coconut. And that'll be your plane.

There is a Sunstate Airlines plane on the runway.

Everyone piles out of the van.

Did we get tickets? asks Sweezus.

Curses, says Gaius. No we didn't. Arthur?

Waves, the eternal rollers of victims, says Arthur.

He lurches, grabbing Sweezus, with his worst bandaged hand.

He's usually so reliable, says Gaius.

We're screwed, says Sweezus.

It looks that way, but no!

A tiny Gypsy Moth has appeared in the distance.

Fefoo

Arthur goes into the cabin, to find a bandage.

Sweezus follows him in.

Anyone got a bandage? asks Arthur.

You have, says Gaius. You always keep one in your pocket.

Arthur had forgotten. He plunges a bleeding hand into his pocket.

He pulls out a dirty bandage.

Celia has been watching.

It's dirty, says Celia.

It's my knee bandage, says Arthur.

There'll be germs on it, says Celia.

Let's see! says Terence.

You can't see germs, says Celia.

Arthur doesn't believe there are germs on his bandage.

It has been in his pocket a long time, lying next to a feather.

Disinfectant! says Gaius.

Humboldt searches the kitchen. No luck.

Just tie it on, says Arthur. Cut it in half first.

Yeah, says Sweezus. Both hands cut. You idiot. How're you going to ride with those injuries?

I'll do it, says Arthur. You know me.

Yes, he does know him.

He will become weirder than ever, and start spouting poems.

He will need to be monitored.

Snip. Gaius cuts the dirty bandage in half with the scissor app on his Swiss army knife.

Sweezus ties two short bandages round Arthur's cut hands.

I can see the germs, says Terence.

No you can't, says Celia. But they'll be there. However if Arthur's immune system is strong enough, he will heal up regardless.

Inside the bandages the little germs are listening.

hehoo

some of them are germs which have leapt off a feather

fefoo.

Roderick should be here shortly, says Gaius. Have we got everything?

I haven't, says Terence. Not everything. I had a tee shirt that said "I'm a morning person". Where is it?

That was years ago, says Sweezus. And it didn't say that.

Maybe it wasn't it, says Terence.

It was, says Sweezus. Anything more recent?

My Peruvian hat with side flaps, says Terence

Lost in Melbourne, says Sweezus.  More recent?

My bird book and my magic bracelet?

Got them, says Sweezus. And your red pot. It's still soft. Maybe we should leave it.

It's Blue Claw's dream home, says Terence. It's coming.

So everything is settled.

Except that Roderick had said 'back this arvo' which meant after lunch.

And there is no lunch.

Gaius unpacks his one withered apple, and they share it.

Sweezus feeds Arthur his quarter, while Arthur rests his hands.

One feels okay. The other is tingling.

fefoo.

Forget About Gravity

Gaius is packing.

Pencils, notebook, Swiss army knife, a withered apple.

Humboldt is already packed.

Sweezus and Arthur have nothing to pack now the Croc flip flops have been got rid of.

They have headed outside.

Watch out for broken glass, says Sweezus.

It's all in the tree, says Arthur.

You forgot about gravity, says Sweezus.

As if to remind Arthur about gravity, a shard of green glass falls, narrowly missing his head.

Yeah, see, says Sweezus.

There is still quite a lot in the tree.

Like it? asks Arthur. Took us all night to do it.

Yeah I like it, says Sweezus. But we should probably remove it. It might fall on someone. Or get stepped on.

Look out! says Arthur, as Sweezus nearly steps on the piece that narrowly missed Arthur's head just a few seconds earlier.

Thus things are connected. And even Arthur has a conscience, and some degree of forethought.

What if Sweezus had been injured?

He starts picking up broken glass, with his bare fingers.

(Fear not. Arthur leads a charmed life).

Sweezus has gone inside to find something to wrap the glass in.

He finds nothing.

He contemplates the plum box.

For a short time his ears are quite near it.

So he overhears a conversation which he should not be hearing, since Team Crustacean and Team Condor are rivals.

Kobo: What are WE then?

Pinky: Yes, if HE is a sprinter. Are WE a  sprinter?

Ageless: No you are not a sprinter. What do you think, Blue Claw?

Blue Claw: I don't see how they can even RIDE a bicycle, frankly.

Kobo: We have that sorted, don't worry. I will be inside Pinky. It's a tight fit. Her legs will be full of air. They'll go like pistons.

Pinky: Ooh!

Ageless: Crik,,,,crik,,,,

Blue Claw: I see. May I suggest something?

Kobo: Go ahead. Ageless has become over excited at the mention of pistons.

Ageless: Splutter!

Kobo: Ach!

Blue Claw: You would make a good domestique.

Pinky: What's a domestique? It sounds like a servant.

Blue Claw: It's the French term for a servant.

Pinky: Oh. Does that make it better?

Blue Claw: Yes. These are French racing terms, used by everyone. I am a sprinteur, while Ageless is a rouleur.

Pinky: A ruler ! How funny!

Kobo: It means an all rounder. But I see him more as a puncheur. He is good in short bursts.

Ageless: Beloved!

Sweezus moves away from the plum box. These are team secrets.

He goes back outside. Arthur's hands are bleeding.

So much for Arthur's charmed life.

The Sparkling Green Tree

Early morning. Roderick Coconut drops them off at the cabin.

See you this arvo, says Roderick Coconut. Got to deal with these prawns first.

Gaius and Sweezus go inside.

Humboldt and Arthur are sleeping, but Ageless has not slept all night.

Have you found me a Cherabin? asks Ageless.

We have, says Gaius.

Where is it? asks Ageless.

Terence has it, says Sweezus.

Where is Terence? asks Ageless.

Terence has not come inside.

Sweezus goes back out to find him.

Wow! says Terence. Wow! Look at this tree!

Sweezus looks. The tree nearest the cabin is sparkling in the sunshine. And tinkling too.

Ting! Every so often a piece of broken green glass tinkles down. Ting-pong!

That's broken glass, says Sweezus. I'm going back in.

Told you, says Celia. This place is dangerous.

Bring the pot, says Sweezus. Ageless wants to meet his team member.

WAIT! cries Blue Claw from the depths of the pot.

What is it? asks Terence.

I should WALK in, says Blue Claw. Not be carried.

Good thinking, says Sweezus. Tip him out, little bro.

Blue Claw walks into the cabin unaided, to where Ageless is waiting.

Snap! They are both the same size.

Blue Claw's second pair of chelipeds are large and powerful.

Ageless nods briefly.

Blue Claw nods back.

Sprinter? asks Ageless.

Blue Claw nods again. It seems best to say little at this stage

Welcome to Team Crustacean, says Ageless. Come into the plum box and meet the rest of the team. Don't be fooled by the fact that one has no legs and the other is four empty fingers.

Blue Claw promises himself that he will not be fooled by these things.

He follows Ageless into the plum box.

Gaius pokes Humboldt. Wake up!

Urrr, says Humboldt. What time is it? Did you catch a Cherabin?

Yes, says Gaius A big one.

He pokes Arthur. Wake up Arthur. Time to get packing.

Arthur rolls over.

Sweezus leans over Arthur.

Arthur's mouth is green and sticky.

His eyes open.

We made you a sparkling tree, says Arthur.

Thanks bro. I saw it, says Sweezus.

The Beeline

The floating toast crumbs have attracted more prawns.

Pity I reached my limit, says Roderick Coconut.

You should take that pot out of the water, little buddy, says Sweezus.

It's Blue Claw's house, says Terence.

Yeah... says Sweezus, but it's going all slimy.

ALL RIGHT! says Terence.

He stamps into the shallows, scattering the prawns.

He picks up the pot, with Blue Claw inside.

Hey! says Blue Claw. I was saying goodbye to my fans, from my dream home.

Well, says Terence. What am I supposed to do about it?

Ask your parrot, says Blue Claw.

Wark! squawks Celia. What do you want to ask me?

What this baby should do, says Blue Claw. My dream home's going slimy. But I need it to say goodbye to my fans.

You've got fans? says Celia. Where are they?

Scattered, says Blue Claw. Afraid of the feet of the baby.

I'm not a baby, says Terence.

No, he isn't, says Celia. He just looks like a baby. Mentally I'd say he was .... eight.

She means eight million, says Terence.

See what I mean, says Celia. Now, I suggest you ask Sweezus to lift you out of the water, and hold you at knee height. Then your fans will return. They will not fear the soft feet of Sweezus. From knee height you can say your goodbyes.

It's a good idea, if Sweezus is willing. But Sweezus is eating his donut.

Everyone must wait.

Now he comes. Splash splash.

Lifts up the dream home.

Red clay drips down his elbows.

( He is bending, his arms angled up).

Blue Claw addresses his fans, who have returned one by one, bravely.

Farewell Small Males and Orange Claws (says he).

Farewell Blue Claw (say they).

I'll do you proud. Wish me luck (says he).

Any more of those toast crumbs? (asks someone).

I don't think so (says he).

Several donut crumbs fall from the crumpled board shorts of Sweezus, into the water.

A lucky sign.

The fans make a beeline.

By Nature Determined

It came back! cries Terence.

The question is, why? says Celia.

What came back? asks Gaius, who has been prawning nearby.

The fastest prawn ever! says Terence.

The Cherabin may not be the fastest prawn ever, but he is quick-witted.

I'll make you an offer, says the Cherabin.

I don't want to be an offer, says Terence.

He's offering you something, says Celia.

What? asks Terence.

Whatever it takes, says the Cherabin. I MUST live in this pot.

You CAN! says Terence. That's why I brought it.

Stop! says Celia. That is not how you bargain.

It certainly isn't, says Gaius.

Quiet! hisses Roderick. The prawns'll scatter.

We've already got one, says Gaius. We're bargaining with it.

You guys! says Roderick. Hopeless.

He moves off with his torch, closer to where Sweezus is paddling.

The bargaining continues.

Now, says Gaius. Let me look at you. A blue claw. Promising. Strong chelipeds, the second pair in particular. How is your nature? Are you determined?

To live in this pot? Yes, I am determined, says the Cherabin.

Would you do anything? asks Gaius. Assuming it was physically possible?

I'm not quite with you, says the Cherubin. It looks a good fit.

It's a bit crooked says Terence. And it's melting. That's because it hasn't been fired yet. And those holes are where the toast crumbs were, and now they're floating away.

Great sales pitch, says Celia.

I still want it, says the Cherabin, but less determinedly.

Terence can make any number of these, says Gaius.

I made three already! says Terence.

Let me put something to you, says Gaius. Semper paratus.

Is that it? asks the Cherabin.

No that is my opening gambit, says Gaius.

That's me, says Celia. Always a parrot.

Always ready, says Gaius. That refers to me. Not a parrot.

Now you've lost me, says the Cherabin.

Sweezus splashes up behind them.

Man! says Sweezus. Awesome prawn! Good legs on him! This the one you're gonna recruit for Team Crustacean?

Did you say Team Crustacean? asks the Cherubin. The team captained by Ageless lobster?

Yes, says Sweezus. The one and only. So the deal's not done and dusted?

I hadn't yet broached the subject, says Gaius. I had only made an opening remark.

No worries. I'm IN, says the Cherabin.

You're not in, says Terence. You should get in, it's melting.

It's dissolving, not melting, says Gaius. And it's lost all it's toast crumbs. Perhaps our new friend is having second thoughts?

No, I'm not, says the Cherabin. Call me Blue Claw. Do I get a free bicycle?

Yes! says Terence, forgetting he has no jurisdiction.

So it is settled.

It only remains for Roderick Coconut to reach his thirty prawn limit, and share out the donuts.

Long Blue

In the cabin Ageless is fuming.

Never mind, dearest, says Kobo. So they went without you. They know what you want.

Not like I do! says Ageless.

Of course not, agrees Kobo. Why don't you get Arthur to call them? Have some input.

An excellent suggestion. Ageless climbs out of the plum box and heads towards Arthur.

It's a bit late in the evening to ask Arthur to do anything lucid.

He and Humboldt are drinking. Something green.

They have been discussing what usually happens at Christmas.

Arthur thinks he remembers.

A tree.

Stars, says Humboldt. With nutcrackers.

All of the above, says Arthur.

Arthur, says Ageless, I'm still here.

We all are, says Arthur.

Wrong, says Ageless. Not Gaius, Sweezus and Terence and the parrot. I want you to call them. I need to be part of the search for my new team member.

Why didn't you go with them? asks Humboldt.

I was saying goodbye to Kobo, says Ageless. And things got sticky.

Speaking of sticky, says Humboldt, have some absinthe. Banish all care.

Ageless has a sip of the absinthe, forgetting he is a lobster, and has different requirements for banishing all care.

Bluh! Green stripes appear on his body.

Arthur tries to call Sweezus.

Fat chance. No coverage out there.

......

In the torchlight, the Cherabin stares at the Pot.

Terence is standing ankle deep in the water.

He jiggles the torch.

That's not how you do it, says Celia, who is still on his shoulder.

Terence lifts a foot. He has a plan. If he brings his foot down on the tail of the Cherabin he will catch it.

Zoom! The Cherabin jack knifes away.

You lost it, says Celia.

Wah! says Terence. It was a fast one!

The Cherabin zooms back again.

What a Pot! This could be his Dream Home!

His long blue claws tremble.

Sticky Beak

Late afternoon. Roderick arrives in his truck.

They load the boxes of Croc flip flops into the back.

These will be good, says Roderick. I can use them for edging.

Edging? says Gaius.

Edging, says Roderick. Everyone ready? I've got bait, nets and torches.

I've got a POT! says Terence.

Good boy, says Roderick. We can put the catch in it.

Can I have my own torch? asks Terence.

Yep, says Roderick. Is that parrot coming?

Terence had forgotten his parrot.

Where is she?

She is talking to Humboldt.

Looks like you're off, says Humboldt.

So I am, says Celia. She hops onto Terence's shoulder.

I'm getting a torch, says Terence.

Don't drop it, says Celia.

I haven't got it, says Terence.

Just remember, says Celia.

Sweezus is ready to go.

Wanna come Arthur?

No thanks, says Arthur. Got something to do.

That's not like you bro, thinks Sweezus. Then he thinks further.

Once, Arthur gave him a present.

A yellow emu leather bracelet, with studs. He still has it.

And tomorrow is his putative birthday.

No way, Arthur!

But he need not worry.

It's simply that Arthur doesn't want to go prawning.

The prawners set off in Roderick's truck in the direction of Pennefather River.

Brmm-brmm, red dust, brmm, scenery, brmm, more red dust, mainly behind them.

Did anyone think to bring any food? asks Gaius.

Yep, says Roderick Coconut. I brought donuts.

Gaius and Sweezus are not entirely averse to donuts.

And water, says Roderick.

At least someone is providential.

Terence is nursing his pot, which is half Sweezus's and half Gaius's. (But the rest of it is his).

By evening they reach the south bank of the Pennefather.

Roderick lays bait in the shallow water.

Nearby, Terence plonks down his pot.

A large Cherabin prawn with a hunched back, large legs and a determined disposition slides up to it.......and stops for a sticky-beak.

Three Halves

A prawn Peter Sagan has eaten. Very funny.

The laughter dies down.

But seriously, says Gaius. Why is a fast prawn wanted?

To be in Team Crusty, says Terence

Team Crustacean, says Ageless.

I see, says Gaius. I imagine a large prawn is wanted.

The larger the better, says Ageless.

I'm going to catch one, says Terence.

You may be in luck, says Gaius. There is a large species of prawn unique to this region.

So there is, says Humboldt. The Cherabin. But have we time to chase it? Don't we have to get back to Adelaide?

Plenty of time, says Gaius. Let me call Roderick Coconut.

He calls Roderick.

Hello? says Roderick.

It's Gaius. Where might we catch Cherabin?

Anywhere, says Roderick. But Pennefather River, southern bank, is best. Why?

Is it far? asks Gaius.

Not far in a vehicle, says Roderick Coconut.

A favour for a favour, says Gaius. If we give you ninety eight  pairs of Croc flip flops, will you take us prawning on our way to the airstrip?

That sounds like two favours, says Roderick Coconut. And it's out of the way. But okay, I'll do it because I like prawns and tomorrow is Christmas.

Titan's testicles! says Gaius. Is it?

Yep, says Roderick Coconut. We'll head off  this arvo. Who'll be coming?

Ageless, and probably Terence, says Gaius. We seek a particular type of Cherabin.

Picky, says Roderick Coconut. But you're spot on. They're all different. What type?

Fast, says Gaius. On a bicycle. Obviously there is no way of knowing, so we'll look for certain attributes. A hunched back. Legs larger than usual. The right sort of mindset. Determined.

Pots or nets? asks Roderick.

I'll leave that to you, says Gaius. Thank you, Roderick.

What are you leaving to him? asks Terence.

Whether to use pots or nets, says Gaius.

I've got a pot! says Terence. I'm bringing it!

You gave it to Sweezus, says Arthur.

Half of it, says Sweezus. The other half' is Gaius's.

You come too, says Terence! Then we'll have three halves to catch Cherubs in.

The Fastest Prawn

Throw your lunch at a seagull.

Terence's reasoning is sound.

But his first principle is faulty.

Terence's first principle: A crustacean is the part of the sandwich most people don't eat.

Ageless is not prepared to accept it.

Terence, how long have you known me?

How long are you? asks Terence. You used to be shorter.

In terms of time, says Ageless.

Sixty, says Terence.

(Sixty what? No matter. Terence is guessing).

And you still don't know that I'm a crustacean? says Ageless.

Yes, says Terence.

I am, says Ageless. So is a crab. So is a prawn.

Terence sees an opportunity.

A prawn sandwich, says Terence. At a seagull.

Sweezus has been listening, while Gaius and Humboldt do the dishes, and Arthur picks at his scabs.

He comes to Terence's rescue.

A crust is different from a crustacean, little buddy, says Sweezus. But they start off the same. You need to keep listening beyond the first syllable.

Guess what? says Terence. Ageless wants me to find a fast prawn!

If he does I'll be perpetually grateful, says Ageless.

I'll ask Gaius, says Sweezus. He'll know where to find a fast prawn.

It needs to be fast on a bicycle, says Ageless.

That changes the equation, says Sweezus. Yeah. There's a mantis shrimp, meant to be the fastest at punching.

I'd avoid him, says Ageless. Too small.

Gaius and Humboldt have finished doing the dishes. It took ages. Congealed egg on plates. No detergent.

They have been discussing their travel plans.

How did we get here? asks Gaius. I don't remember.

Coconut, says Humboldt. He gave us a lift from the airport.

Excellent, says Gaius. We'll ask him.

Gaius, says Sweezus. Which prawn is the fastest?

Prawn? says Gaius. The mantis.

On a bicycle, says Sweezus.

One that Peter Sagan has eaten for lunch, says Gaius.

Quick as a flash. A superb joke, he thinks.

He waits for the laughter.

A Cycling Crustacean

Celia alights on the rim of the plum box.

In the plum box, Ageless is wooing Kobo.

He is trying to persuade her to join Team Crustacean.

Kobo: Ageless, I couldn't.

Ageless: I can't ride on my own.

Celia: Too many legs?

Ageless: Mind your own business, parrot.

Kobo: He has done it before.

Celia: How on earth did he do it?

Kobo: Tight strapping, as I remember.

Ageless: Legs aren't the problem. I need at least two more riders.

Celia: Have you asked Pinky?

Pinky: Oo! Ask me!

Ageless: You are not a crustacean.

Kobo: Nor am I, Ageless.

Ageless: However, clik,,,clik,,,with you inside her, beloved, you do look like a crab.

Kobo: How do you know? Have you been spying, Ageless?

Pinky: O Kobo, let's do it!

Ageless: Yes, do it.

Pinky: Are we doing it?

Kobo: You'd still have only two riders. One a fake crab, with no experience.

Celia: It's also cheating.

Ageless: How are you at cheating?

Celia: Why? Are you offering me a place on the team?

Ageless: Let me look at you. Clik,,,clik,,,no. I don't see you as a cycling crustacean.

Kobo: Sanity prevails!

Celia: Good. When is the Tour Down Under?

Ageless: January the fifteenth.

Celia: There's plenty of time to find a proper crustacean. Terence and I will help you.

Ageless: Not Terence?

Celia: I'm only doing this for Terence. To teach him to help others.

Ageless: Where is he? Terence!

Terence: What is it?

Ageless: Heh-heh! How would you like to help others?

Terence: I would. I like helping others.

Ageless (looking doubtful): Test question: what is a crustacean and how do you recognise a fast one?

Terence: Throw your lunch at a seagull.

Silence, while everyone tries to follow his reasoning.

How Much Is Right?

How much is left? asks Celia.

I don't know, says Terence.

I was asking them, says Celia. 

They're no good at jokes, says Terence.

It's not a joke, says Celia. It's a question.

She means, how much is left of the fundraising money, says Sweezus. Answer. Enough to get us back to Adelaide and buy new outfits for Team Condor.

Well done, says Gaius. 

It WAS a joke, says Terence.

It wasn't, says Celia.

It could be, says Terence. Now I've got one! How much is right?

Hey, good one little buddy, says Sweezus. How much is left and how much is right?

A serious moral question, says Celia. Terence, you astound me.

Terence beams. 

It seems to me, says Celia, that you shouldn't be using funds you raised to help an endangered species for personal travel and new outfits.

It's left over, says Sweezus.

But you haven't completed the task, says Celia.

True, says Sweezus. We've still got heaps of Croc thongs. The croc didn't want them.

And we can't take them back, says Gaius.

How about we ask Roderick Coconut? says Humboldt. He might have a use for them.

I refer to the other task, says Celia. The endangered bandy bandies.

Celia is becoming annoying.

After all she is only a parrot.

New outfits, says Arthur. Sounds good.

Yeah, says Sweezus.

Are we having new outfits? asks Humboldt.

I don't know, says Gaius. It depends on Vello. Anyone know if he's back yet from Ferney?

Ages ago, says Sweezus. There's two of him now.

How? asks Terence.

One's a hologram in Ferney, says Sweezus.

Is he pleased with it? asks Humboldt.

Yeah, says Sweezus, but it's not pleased with him.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. I can imagine! At least it's in France.

It wants to come to Adelaide for the Tour Down Under, says Sweezus. Vello's against it. But it's just as determined as he is.

It would be, says Gaius. 

Alas! thinks Celia. These people are unfit guardians for Terence. They avoid moral questions.

She retires to the plum box, defeated.

Dead But Still

Celia and Terence go back into the cabin.

The omelette has been eaten.

Gaius is saying how delicious it was.

Humboldt is agreeing.

Sweezus is wondering whether to mention the red bits, which tasted of caramelised plum.

And Arthur is returning the used straw to his pocket.

It's not needed now.

Guess what? says Terence. This is a joke. What is pointing?

Wrong question, whispers Celia.

Pointless! says Terence.

At first no one gets it. Even Arthur.

Point less! says Terence. With your finger.

Let me help, says Celia. What would it be if a bristlebird pointed at Terence's Grandpa, who was elsewhere?

You're telling them the answer! says Terence.

You already told us the answer, says Sweezus. Pointless. But it's a good joke, little buddy.

Hee hee! laughs Terence. Celia taught me. She's my best parrot ever.

Thank you, Terence, says Celia. But I shan't always be with you.

Why? asks Terence.

I'm nomadic, says Celia. I go where I go.

We go where WE go, says Terence.

Yeah, we do, says Sweezus. We were just talking. Not long till the Tour Down Under.

It came as a surprise, says Gaius. I feel we've only been here a few days.

So do I, says Humboldt. But we have achieved a great deal in those few days.

Remarkable, says Gaius. Wasn't it September, when we started?

It was, says Humboldt, although he doesn't remember.

Yeah, well, says Sweezus. We've delivered the Crocs and still got some fund raising money for the......what was it?

Translocation of the bandy bandies, says Gaius. How much money was there?

Thousands, says Sweezus. In the beginning.

At least we made contact, says Gaius. The bandy bandies know they're endangered. It's up to them now.

Indeed, says Humboldt. They know how to move about. Take that one found near the jetty.

A dead one, says Gaius. But still.

Still, repeats Celia, under her breath. Is it a joke or a qualification? She waits.

Still, says Sweezus. Get that, Terence?

 Dead one but still, repeats Terence.

You got Gaius's joke, says Sweezus.

What joke? asks Gaius.

I don't want it, says Terence. Celia's jokes are better.

Celia would be pleased to hear this had her thoughts not been elsewhere.

Terence is not the only one who needs guidance. There has been Misuse of Funds by the others!

What Does That Mean I Know?

Terence is impressed with Celia's accident story.

No nut fell on her sister.

What a sad way to die.

That was bad luck for your sister, says Terence.

I know, says Celia. But we parrots are philosophical.

Grandpa is philosophical, says Terence.

I'd like to meet him too, says Celia. What is his name?

Grandpa Marx, says Terence. He knows everything.

I shouldn't say this, says Celia, but I will. A philosophical person, or bird, recognises that they don't know everything.

Grandpa knows that, says Terence. So that IS everything. He has a white beard and white hair.

You are ingenuous, says Celia. I have a yellowish green body and wings with red and pink trimmings. What does that mean I know?

What you look like, says Terence.

Very good, says Celia, what you lack in wisdom you make up for in simplicity.

I've got a claw, says Terence. See this. What does that mean I know?

You shouldn't have a claw, says Celia, but I see you do have one. It seems to be stuck on with glue. The claw of a baby bristlebird, if I'm not mistaken.

Correct, says Terence. My blood brother. He's got my finger.

That alarms me, says Celia. It was not a fair exchange.

Why not? asks Terence. My finger was crooked.

Before or after? asks Celia.

Before and after, says Terence. And for ever. It's pointing.

At anything in particular? asks Celia.

At Grandpa Marx, says Terence.

So now baby bristlebird is pointing at your grandpa, says Celia. Does he see your grandpa?

No, says Terence.

Then it's pointless, says Celia.

A short silence follows until:

Is that a joke? I asks Terence.

It is a joke, says Celia.

Ha ha! I love jokes, says Terence.

Sister Of An Accident

Gaius, Humboldt, Sweezus and Arthur eat the omelette.

Celia is waiting outside.

She doesn't like egg smells.

Terence waits with her.

We're the SAME, says Terence. I don't like egg smells.

We're not the same, says Celia. I'm a parrot.

I only eat red things, says Terence. And drink red drinks.

That's very foolish, says Celia. It's an unbalanced diet.

It IS balanced, says Terence.

You clearly don't know what balanced means, says Celia.

It's a red plum in one hand and a red drink in the other, says Terence.

It's when you eat enough different food groups, says Celia. Take me, for example.

No way. You don't have enough red parts, says Terence.

Very funny, says Celia. I eat seeds, nectar, pollen, blossoms, insects and larvae. That's a well-balanced diet.

You only eat things that smell nice, says Terence.

Not all insects smell nice, says Celia.

That's true! Terence loves this sort of grown up conversation.

What else will they talk about?

How about where they are going?

We're going home soon, says Terence. And you're coming.

What is home like? asks Celia. Are there parrots there?

Outside, says Terence. They eat apricots.

What's inside? asks Celia.

Saint Roley is inside, says Terence. He'll be waiting.

And he is? asks Celia.

Not my parrot, says Terence. He's nobody's bird. He is the brother of an accident.

Do you mean his brother had an accident? asks Celia. And he is a bird?

Yes, and his brother was a bird, says Terence. And he floated away in the wrong direction. And Saint Roley was sad.

Is that why he didn't come with you? asks Celia.

No, says Terence.

I should like to meet Saint Roley, says Celia. I am the sister of an accident.

Terence is not mature enough to follow this up properly by asking What happened to your sister?

So Celia continues.

It's a sad story. We were laid in the hollow trunk of a tree, near the ground. But the hole was high up in the tree. We were forgotten. A nut dropped on me and I struggled out. But no nut dropped on my sister.

The Oceans Are Full

Guess what? says Terence, before Sweezus puts the eggs down. This is your pot.

Correction, says Gaius. Half your pot. We are to share it.

Cool, says Sweezus. It's not to put things in, is it?

Yes, says Terence. It is. You can put your eggs in it. But first it needs something under it.

Okay, says Sweezus. What?

Not my bird book, says Terence.

A pencil, says Sweezus.

Everyone looks for a pencil.

Arthur comes in.

Arthur, says Gaius. A pencil!

Arthur feels in his pockets. He finds an old plastic straw.

This do? asks Arthur.

YES! says Terence. Poke it under.

Arthur pokes the straw under the pot. Now it's level.

Sweezus fills the balanced pot with eggs. The eggs enjoy a moment of equilibrium.

Egg 1: this is a good level pot.

Egg 2: it's my favourite colour

Egg 3: it's better than cardboard

Egg 4: and stable

Egg 5: you guys know there's a straw under it?

Egg 6: I'm against using straws, did you know the oceans are full of..........

But the other eggs never get to hear what the oceans are full of.

It's not due to the straw shifting. It's Gaius, removing Egg 6 for his breakfast.

Followed by Egg 5.

That's the two troublemaker Eggs dealt with.

Cook 'em all, says Sweezus. Make an omelette.

So Gaius makes an omelette.

The oceans may be full, but the pot is once again empty.

Where Eggs Go

I think I'll take a rest now, says Celia.

What about my pot? asks Terence.

It's finished, says Celia. You'll just have to live with it. Who was it for?

Sweezus and Gaius, says Terence.

Let me see it. says Gaius.

It's the first time he has properly seen it.

He sits down at the table.

See, says Terence. You can put things in it.

And they will roll out, says Gaius. Because of the slope.

You can always put something under it, says Celia.

I don't keep items that are superfluous, says Gaius.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

Things I don't need, says Gaius.

Very wise, says Humboldt. Travel light, that's my motto.

You do need this pot, says Terence.

I know, says Gaius. And I shall keep it. I just don't have anything spare to put under it.

What about this bird book? says Celia.

Hurrah! says Terence. That was LOST! I need that.

What for? asks Celia. You have me now.

In case you turn out to be rubbish, says Terence. Then I can look for another parrot.

I will turn out to be the best parrot you've ever had, says Celia. I've already taught you the best way to decide things.

What things did I decide? asks Terence.

The wrong things, says Celia. But they turned out all right. Except that your pot is sub-standard.

Do I see toast crumbs embedded in it? asks Humboldt.

Yes, says Gaius. Toast crumbs forming a pattern. They will drop out over time. Was that the intention?

Terence thinks hard. Would it be good if that was the intention?

He looks at Celia. She shakes her green head, meaning no.

So Celia thinks no.

But Terence thinks otherwise.

Yes, says Terence.

Who had toast? asks Gaius.

No one in the cabin. And probably not Arthur and Sweezus. They are not back yet. And last night they flaked without supper.

Must be old crumbs, says Humboldt. They'll drop out even sooner.

Leaving a pattern, says Celia.

Wonderful, says Gaius. I shall cherish my half.

The door opens.

The recipent of the other half walks in, with six free range eggs that he believes Arthur paid for in Woolies.

Where do these eggs go? asks Sweezus.

Dismemberment Off

Voices float from the plum box, mixed together:

kobo dear he didn't mean it-----

 no i did not mean it.......

o yes ageless you meant it....

beloved let me explain.....

explain away i'm not listening...

i'm listening....

thank you pinky, perhaps you might like to pass on what i say.....

say it ageless you know i can't avoid listening....

very well, when i said beloveds in the plural, i meant this....

o i knew it!....

Celia the red winged parrot lands on the edge of the plum box.

Excuse me. I'm new here. Terence's parrot.

Pinky: Pleased to meet you. I'm Pinky.

Kobo: We're in the middle of something. Go away.

Ageless: Yes, the middle of something. Stay. We need a circuit breaker

Celia: I'm here wearing two hats.

Pinky: O are they those fascinators?

Celia: No, they are hypothetical.

Pinky: Only, I know they are small.

Celia: These are big hats. Will you listen?

Ageless: Ladies? Shall we listen?

Kobo: I suppose so.

Celia: Hat one: to prevent a dismemberment. Hat two: to improve the ethical system of Terence.

Kobo: Are you spiritually minded?

Celia: I try not to be.

Kobo: Good. This dismemberment. I presume it's of Ageless.

Celia: As I understand it.

Kobo: We would never dismember Ageless. He does a good job on his own.

Ageless: True: I have recently regenerated. Hence the cobalt blue carapace and smart black chevrons.

Pinky: O yes, they ARE!

Celia: Excellent. That seems to be sorted. As for hat two, may I bring Terence over?

Kobo: If you think it will improve him.

Celia: Terence!

Terence: What?

Celia: The lobster, the clam and the pink rubber glove have demonstrated an admirable conflict solving ability. The dismemberment is off.

Terence: What does that mean?

Celia: What do you think it means?

Terence: It means I was RIGHT! You should have looked for my pot plans FIRST, not second.

Celia: I can still do that.

Terence: It's too late. I've done a new pot without them.

Celia looks at his pot,

It's terrible. Lopsided and mottled with toast crumbs.

Celia resolves to revisit her system of ethics.

Risky Plurals

I'll be off now says Gloria. No room here for me and a parrot.

Understood, says Gaius. Thank you for all that you've done.

No worries, says Gloria.

She drops down to where Terence is busy opening and collapsing his flow ring.

Goodbye Terence. Good luck with your pot.

What pot? says Terence.

I'll see to it, says Celia.

Thank you, says Gloria. He has talent. He has drawn up some plans.

O really? says Celia. Where are they, Terence?

I lost them, says Terence.

That will be something for you both to look for, says Gloria.

I'll get onto it now, says Celia.

Wait till I've left, if you don't mind, says Gloria.

Of course, says Celia.

Gloria departs.

A fine spirit, says Gaius.

Indeed, says Humboldt. I wonder where those eggs are?

I'll find out, says Celia.

She flies out through the door.

Are you following me? asks Gloria.

No no, says Celia. I do errands. That's what parrots do. I'm seeing where the eggs are.

Woolies, says Gloria. Eggs can be dodgy. Check on them first.

I'm not comfortable with egg errands, admits Celia.

Want me to? asks Gloria.

Yes, please. You're a legend, says Celia.

She flies back inside.

Okay, all sorted, says Celia.

Is it? asks Humboldt. Eggs on their way then? Perhaps you'd like to deal with a new problem.

I'm scheduled to look for Terence's pot plans, says Celia. What's up now?

There's a kerfuffle in the plum box, says Humboldt.

She's MY parrot, says Terence. She does MY things.

She's a disinterested party, says Humboldt. And you wouldn't want Ageless to be dismembered.

I might, says Terence. What's dismembered?

Legs off, says Humboldt.

Ha ha, laughs Terence.

Which is it to be? asks Celia. Legs or pot plans? I'm your parrot.

Pot plans, says Terence.

Wrong decision, says Celia. I see we have work to do, on your system of ethics.

She flies to the plum box, in which Ageless is bemoaning his use of the plural 'beloveds'.

He knew at the time it was risky,

Door To Chaos

Ageless reaches the door.

Knock knock! He will make a grand entrance.

Kobo will be surprised at how fast he has moulted. Pinky will swoon.

They will not be expecting the chevrons.

He hesitates. Maybe they will. He seems to have sent them a message.

The door opens to chaos.

Come in, quick! says Humboldt, grasping a claw and drawing him inwards. We have a new parrot, and she's currently on a mad mission.

Ageless looks about the cabin.

Gaius is flapping at smoke with a spatula.

Gloria is at the far end of Arthur's top bunk. You can see her white hair, and her eyebrows.

Terence is clapping.

Why is he clapping?

Ageless skitters over to the plum box.

My beloveds! cries Ageless. I'm here!

A sharp intake of breath comes from the plum box, and a coughing.

Cu-huh! coughs Kobo.

Ageless clambers into the plum box, to be greeted by further coughing.

It's the smoke, coughs Kobo. Gaius burned the fried plums.

That's not like him, says Ageless.

It's Terence's new parrot, says Kobo. She's turning the place upside down.

She's finding my magic flow ring! cries Terence. I have to keep clapping.

Celia stops flying around the cabin.

Shh!

Boing!

Hear that? says Celia. Where did it come from?

Up here! says Gloria. Help me, I'm trapped.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. She's found it!

You are the best parrot in the world! says Terence. My magic bracelet was lost for EVER! Now it isn't!

Therefore, says Gaius, it was not lost forever. It appears Arthur found it.

Steady on, says Humboldt. Gloria found it.

Let me out! cries Gloria from inside the magic prison.

My parrot found it, says Terence. My parrot and me. She told me to do clapping. And boing!

PLEASE! shouts Gloria.

Gaius climbs up the bunk ladder.

Arthur's bed is a raddle of dirty sheets, stained with sauce, and littered with hamburger wrappings and various hard prickly crumbs.

But Gaius, to his credit, does not notice.

He crawls through it to Gloria, who is trapped in the flow ring.

Ding! He pats the top, firmly.

The flow ring collapses. and Gloria is now free to come down from the bunk bed.

That's how they work, magic flow rings.

They are wonderful, these, says Gloria. I might think about one for a grandchild.

Good for her.

You'd think she might have been angry. But she wasn't.

Flying Fish Or Prisoner

What's this? asks Gaius, looking up from the frying pan. An Aprosmictus erythropterus!

What's this? says Celia. Fried plums!

It's my new parrot, says Terence. Her name is Celia, not mictus-roptrus.

No one fries PLUMS! says Celia.

That's what I think, says Arthur.

Except ancient Romans, says Sweezus. Ancient Romans do weird things with food.

Different, not weird, says Gaius. And we would prefer eggs.

Eggs! squawks Celia.

Eggs, says Sweezus. I could go a few eggs.

Me too, says Arthur.

There aren't any, says Gaius. Hence the plum fry-up.

Arthur and me'll go into Nanum and get some, says Sweezus.

Excellent, says Gaius.

Sweezus and Arthur go out.

They walk along the road a little, and stop, because they have seen Ageless.

Is it Ageless? He looks bigger and better. He is cobalt blue with black arrowy thingers.

Hi! says Arthur. Nice new look! Black arrowy thingers.

Yeah, says Sweezus, You look like a prisoner, in a movie.

These are chevrons, says Ageless. Only the ignorant describe them as arrowy thingers.

That's crazy, says Arthur.

Crazy, says Sweezus. Chevrons. I thought they were flying fish.

Proving your ignorance, says Ageless. But what is so crazy?

Kobo had a message from you, says Arthur. I was there when she got it. You described yourself to her.

I don't recall doing it, says Ageless What did I say?

Something about seeing yourself reflected in still waters...

Poetic, says Ageless. But I don't see myself in that way. I look down directly. What else did I tell her?

You said you were cobalt blue with black arrowy thingers.

There you have it , says Ageless.  Proof you were dreaming. I would have said chevrons.

I wouldn't dream arrowy thingers, says Arthur. My vocabulary stretches to chevrons.

Ageless glances sideways at Sweezus. Heh-heh! His doesn't.

Resplendent, says Arthur. You said you were resplendent

That does sound like me, admits Ageless. Well boys, I'll get going, and sort out this garbled message my beloved must have partly invented. Where are you two off to?

To buy eggs, says Sweezus.

Obtain eggs, says Arthur.

They continue to Nanum.

Ageless marches, bold and resplendent, to the cabin, displaying his chevrons.

Part Of This Breakfast

In the cabin, Arthur is awake.

He is listening to Gaius and Humboldt.

They are discussing breakfast, and wishing for eggs.

Gaius: Eggs would hit the spot, this morning.

Humboldt: Yes, what a pity.

Gaius: No eggs. We could fry up a plum?

Arthur tunes out. He doesn't want to be part of this breakfast.

He tunes in to a higher conversation, coming from the plum box.

Pinky:  Aiee!

Kobo: Aiee won't reach him. In the past I've had success with a series of Ms.

Pinky: Ms! Such as?

Kobo: What do you mean such as?

Pinky: I mean I want an example.

Kobo: Mmmmmm.

Pinky: Mmmmmm? Ageless responds to that usually?

Kobo: Not usually, but he has done. Hush dear, and listen.

Pinky: ....

Kobo: Mmmmmm ageless have you done mmmoulting for the mmmmommmment??????

Pinky: All those question marks. That's not like you.

Kobo: Shh! It is when I commmmunicate with Ageless.

Pinky: You know best. I wish I had such rapport.

Kobo: He's coming in now...... yes my beloved I have finished moulting crik,,, crik,,,wait till you see me I can't see me properly but in places where the water runs quiet  I see my reflection I am resplendent in cobalt blue with black arrowy thingers.... o that's nice!

Pinky: Arrowy thingers?

Kobo: HUSH! It's a mmmoving immmmage.

The door opens.

Kobo and Pinky half expect to see Ageless resplendent in cobalt blue with black arrowy thingers.

But it is Terence.

Gloria has waited outside until Sweezus has opened the door.

Terence has come in with the lovely Celia on his shoulder.

Celia has smelled the fried plums.

Undeniably Lovely

Ask her if she'll be my parrot, whispers Terence.

You ask her, says Sweezus.

I'll ask her, says Gloria. She flies up to the branch where Celia is sitting.

No need to ask me, says Celia. I know what he wants. Tell him I'm making an assessment.

Gloria drops down.

She's making an assessment.

Heavy, says Sweezus. Can we hurry this up a bit?

Gloria flits up.

Come with us, and meet the others. Do you like plums, or apples?

I like plums, says Celia. Okay. I'll talk to the infant as we travel.

She's coming, says Gloria, flitting down.

Yay! says Terence.

I'll go ahead, says Gloria. You follow.

Celia flies down onto Sweezus's shoulder.

Arghh! His throat tickles. He shudders. Get off!

Sorry? says Celia. Am I not welcome?

Come on ME! says Terence. My shoulder.

Celia hops down to his shoulder.

Terence looks proud.

No need to look proud, says Celia. I haven't yet made a decision.

I used to live in a palace, says Terence.

Why tell me that? asks Celia.

So you know, says Terence.

Well, I know, says Celia. That means you're spoilt.

He's not spoilt, says Sweezus. He had a hard time with Saint Joseph, and the Virgin was distant.

Oh, says Celia. I'll take that on board.

I know how to make pots, says Terence.

Boastful, says Celia.

I was going to make three, says Terence. But now I'm just making one.

Lazy, says Celia.

To be fair, says Sweezus, a lobster took a third of his clay.

He could still have made two pots, says Celia.

I don't really want you, says Terence. You can go back to your tree now.

That's not how it works, says Celia. I'll decide if I'm coming or going.

Good on you, says Sweezus. Terence needs a companion.

Not a mean one, says Terence.

Yes, a mean one, says Sweezus.

She's not even a parrot, says Terence. Real parrots are grey and they coo and eat bread crumbs.

That's pigeons, says Celia.

But Terence knows what he knows.

You'll be a challenge, says Celia. I like a good challenge.

Well I'm a bad challenge, says Terence.

You did want a parrot, says Celia. I heard you.

A red one, says Terence.

A red pigeon, says Celia, is not going to happen.

Terence glowers.

Look at me, says Celia, fluttering her wings.

The wings have red and pink trimmings. Her body is stout and yellowish green. She has dark irises, and on her back, dark blue colours.

She is undeniably lovely.

A Bad Day For Baby

A cement finger pokes Sweezus awake.

It's first thing in the morning! says Terence.

Uh! Sweezus has forgotten why it matters.

Arthur stirs in his bunk and rolls over.

Gaius and Humboldt are snoring.

Not yet, buddy, says Sweezus. Maybe later.

You SAID! says Terence. We're supposed to be getting a parrot!

Yeah, says Sweezus. I did say that. Okay, cool. First, I need a coffee.

FIRST? says Terence.

I'll bring it with me, says Sweezus.

Gloria is waiting outside the door.

Ready for the parrot hunt? asks Gloria. Ooh! Is that coffee?

Yeah, says Sweezus. Want one?

Smells good, says Gloria. I'll just inhale it.

She hovers over his coffee.

Smhh-hahhh!

Can we GO now? asks Terence.

Yep, says Sweezus. Let's go.

They walk and flit amongst trees. It seems the best place to spot parrots.

Shh! says Gloria.

Whistle! Chirrup!

Terence crashes through native grasses.

Oom! A startled bird flies up.

Shit! says Sweezus. Don't do that Terence!

It was a parrot! cries Terence.

The startled bird comes back.

No one calls her parrot.

A weak chicken-like call rises from the crushed grasses.

It's her little one, who has nearly been stepped on.

Watch it! says the no-longer-startled-not-parrot to Terence.

Do you want to come with me and do my errands? asks Terence.

NO! I'm no parrot! she replies. I'm a red-chested buttonquail.

Awesome! says Sweezus. How come you know that?

Know what? asks the buttonquail. That I'm a buttonquail?

Yeah, that too, says Sweezus. But, like, that parrots do errands.

Everyone knows that, says the buttonquail. Now bog off, will you!

We're going, says Gloria, but first, have you seen any non-endemic parrots?

Here and there, says the buttonquail.

Where? asks Terence.

Depends, says the buttonquail. You after a double-eyed fig parrot? They're pretty rare. Or a common old red-winged parrot?

Anything, says Sweezus.

The buttonquail points up with her wing.

A small light green parrot with red wing edges is sitting on a branch just above them.

Celia! says the buttontail.

Common old! squawks Celia. I like that!

She drops a tiny bird shit right near the buttonquail baby.

Not Every Bird

So what's happening? asks Terence.

Nothing, says Sweezus.

About my new parrot, says Terence.

I thought you had one, says Sweezus. A comb-crested jacana.

He wasn't a PARROT! says Terence.

I know that, says Sweezus. And this is the first time you've admitted that not every bird is a parrot.

I've got a bird book, says Terence. NO bird is a parrot.

Can't be right, says Sweezus. Show us your bird book.

There's a bird book on the table. Arthur picks it up.

Shorebird identification booklet, says Arthur. No parrots.

See? says Terence. They must have all DIED!

There are plenty of parrots round here, says Gloria. Endemic and non-endemic.

Which one means dead? asks Terence.

Neither, says Gloria.

Terence supposes she's lying. Like when the Virgin says nothing happens at Christmas.

Tell you what, little buddy, says Sweezus. First thing in the morning we'll head out and find you a parrot.

I'll come with you, says Gloria.

Is it first thing yet? asks Terence.

Not yet, says Sweezus. Stand near the window. When the sky lightens, that's the first thing.

He and Arthur collapse on their bunk beds.

Terence stands near the window.

Gloria thinks about parrots. She hasn't much bothered with parrots. Kangaroos, possums, emus, flying foxes, barramundi, sting rays, turtles, crocodiles, heroic beings. No parrots. Shame that her potting days are over, too late now to start a story pot based on a parrot.........

Gaius and Humboldt come in.

It's very quiet, says Humboldt.

I'm waiting for a parrot, says Terence.

Should we leave the door open? asks Gaius.

NO! says Terence. I'm waiting for first thing in the morning.

That's a while off, says Gaius. Is Arthur back yet from the pub?

Yes, says Gloria. Arthur and Sweezus. They're sleeping. First thing in the morning Sweezus and I are taking Terence on a parrot hunt.

Excellent, says Gaius. Endemic or non-endemic?

Which one means alive? asks Terence.

I told you, says Gloria. Neither.

Wah! says Terence. I want a live one.

Endemic means native to the area, says Gaius. Non-endemic means not. You should probably look for a non-endemic parrot as you will want it to accompany you back to Adelaide in the near future.

Very sensible! says Humboldt.

Yay! Terence knew he was sensible.

No Pen For No Parrot

Midnight. It's dark.

Gloria is flitting back to the cabin.

On the way she sees Sweezus and Arthur, walking slowly.

She stops near them and hovers.

Hey, says Sweezus.

Hello! says Gloria. You're just the fellows!

Sweezus knows what this means.

It'll be about Terence. Or about the delivery. Or yeah, maybe Gaius sent her. Lost his pencils.

What's up?

Brace yourselves. Ageless has been taken hostage, says Gloria.

No kidding? says Sweezus. Where?

Back there in the river, says Gloria. He's moulting.

Who thinks we'd want him? asks Arthur.

Kambel, says Gloria. He'll release Ageless in return for Terence's frog pen.

My frog pen, says Sweezus.

Your favourite, says Arthur.

They both snort with inappropriate laughter.

Perhaps there was a pub in Weipa, after all.

......

They arrive at the cabin.

Arthur opens the door.

Terence is working on his clay lumps.

Guess what? says Terence. I'm only going to make one pot. You guys can share it.

I don't want one, says Arthur.

Not YOU! says Terence. Sweezus and Gaius.

Thanks little buddy, says Sweezus. You all on your own?

YES! says Terence. Except for stupid Kobo and Pinky in the plum box.

Sweezus looks into the plum box.

The ladies are sweetly entwined.

Gaius and Humboldt are out, says Terence.

It's you we want, says Gloria. And maybe Kobo. This is about Ageless, and Kobo is his beloved.

She doesn't like him, says Terence. Ask me.

Okay, says Gloria. I'm going to ask you an important question. Do you still have the frog pen?

Yes, says Terence. Somewhere.

He's lost it, says Sweezus. How did I know that would happen?

I haven't lost it, says Terence.

That's good, says Gloria. Now for some sad news. Ageless has been taken hostage.

Kobo stirs in the plum box.

Ha ha, laughs Terence.

It's not funny, says Gloria.

It's not sad, says Terence.

Remember Kambel the crocodile? asks Gloria. He is the hostage taker. He will let Ageless go if you give him your frog pen.

Maybe I DID lose it, says Terence. He'll have to keep Ageless.

What's this about Ageless? asks Kobo, awake now.

A slight problem with option three, says Gloria. Don't you worry.

What are the other two options? asks Kobo.

Option two, another slight problem, says Gloria. No courier.

Option one? asks Kobo.

A swap. The pen for a parrot. Kambel rejected it on the grounds that he couldn't get hold of a parrot.

Do I get a PARROT? cries Terence. Yay! I get a parrot.

Except you've lost the pen and the crocodile doesn't have a parrot, says Sweezus.

And what about AGELESS? cries Kobo.

He's not involved in this one, says Gloria.

The New Ageless

I wasn't expecting that, says Kambel.

I know, says Gloria. But it seemed pointless to offer an opinion

Why? asks Kambel.

Because your last line was: To criticism I am indifferent.

That doesn't mean I'm indifferent, says Kambel.

To me it does, says Gloria.

It's my poem, says Kambel. It's about me as a character.

So you would like my opinion? asks Gloria.

Not now, says Kambel. I'm more interested in how you might get me the frog pen.

Who wants it? asks Gloria. You or your character?

Me, says Kambel. I can't see a Knight of the Golden Tortoise using a frog pen.

A punching frog pen, says Gloria. I can. Although... are Knights of the Golden Tortoise aggressive?

I don't know, says Kambel. Does it matter?

Probably not, says Gloria. It was Sweezus's pen before it was Terence's.

But it's Terence's now. How do you suggest I might get it?

Three possibilities, says Gloria. One, a swap for something Terence wants more than the frog pen.

A parrot, says Kambel. Fat chance. Parrots avoid me.

Two, says Gloria, Terence loses the frog pen.

That's the one, says Kambel. Terence loses the frog pen. And you bring it to me.

Me? says Gloria. I'm a face. I can't bring you a frog pen.

Then why suggest it? mutters Kambel

Three, says Gloria. You take Ageless hostage. He is vulnerable at the moment. But they value him. They'll want him back.

You are a genius, says Kambel.

I know, says Gloria. Is that your preference?

Yes, says Kambel. Hah!

Under the water, nearby, Ageless is hardening. He is marginally bigger than before. His colouring is becoming spectacular. Most lobsters (uncooked) are dark blue-green or greenish-brown, but Ageless is cobalt blue with black chevrons.

This he is yet to discover.

But the new Ageless will not take kindly to being exchanged for a frog pen

How I Suffered The Slash

What is your visionary poem to be called? asks Gloria.

Weird Things That Have Happened To Me Lately, says Kambel.

May I suggest a different title? asks Gloria.

Why? asks Kambel.

It's as bad as What I Did On My Holidays, says Gloria.

What did you do on your holidays? asks Kambel.

I don't mean that, says Gloria. I mean, that too is a bad title.

May I suggest a different one? says Kambel.

No, Kambel, says Gloria. Work on your own.

I'll forget the title, says Kambel, and concentrate on the poem.

Good plan, says Gloria. Meanwhile I'll look in on Ageless.

She ducks under the water, and hovers before Ageless.

How goes Kambel's poem? asks Ageless.

Weird Things That Have Happened To Me Lately, says Gloria. That's as far as he's got.

Ha ha, laughs Ageless. That's as bad as How I Moulted Early To Elicit Sympathy From My Beloved.

My goodness! says Gloria. Can you actually do that?

I'm doing it, says Ageless. How am I faring?

You look moist, says Gloria. Pink and moist. No wait, certain parts are hardening up at the edges.

Good to know, says Ageless. Leave me now, to my stiffening.

Gloria shoots upwards.

Kambel's poem is taking shape, at least, he thinks so.

He will try it out on Gloria, who is arty.

I see a vision
what is it
a man in green shoes
I see a vision
what is it
an infant
with a frog pen
I see a vision
what is it
a Swiss army knife
how I suffered
the slash of the Swiss army knife
so painful it was
I earned a title,
not this title,
weird things that happened to me lately
not this title
what I did on my holidays
this title
Knight of the Golden Tortoise
That's my title.
To criticism I remain indifferent.

He looks at Gloria.

I could get you that frog pen, says Gloria.

Fishy Nurry

Ageless feels calmer.

He gazes up through clear water.

 It is evening. He sees Gloria flitting, and Kambel working with clay.

Sounds are muffled.

Trickle trickle. (That will be the river).

Sss-where-where-where-am-I ?? (The olive sea snake. Obviously lost).

Screech! (The masked owl again).

Fishy nurry! 

Idly, Ageless wonders:

What is fishy nurry?

......

Kambel has visualised his finished pot rather too quickly.

Gloria is not satisfied.

His visualisation lacks detail: A pot with eighteen claw marks.

It doesn't tell a story, says Gloria.

It tells the story of the pot, says Kambel.

The pot is supposed to tell the story, says Gloria.

Then I don't get it, says Kambel. I'll try Arthur's suggestion.

Which was? asks Gloria.

A poem, says Kambel. A visualisory poem.

Are you sure he said visualisory? asks Gloria.

Not now you mention it, says Kambel. It was vish-something .

Visionary! says Gloria.

Fishy nurry! filters down through the water to Ageless.

And continues: Fishynurry is when you free dumpling weed .......

Ageless drifts off and hears no more of Gloria's explanation of visionary poems being when you see something weird......

It's not a good explanation.

But it  inspires Kambel, who has seen weird things recently. And experienced sharp surgical pain.

He makes a decision.

He will give up on pottery, and work on a visionary poem.

He will call it: Weird Things That Have Happened To Me Lately.

Fall Back Position

If Ageless were in a fit state to answer, Kambel would ask him:

How do you know you're immortal?

And Ageless would answer:

All lobsters are immortal. We regenerate, as I'm doing now.

To which Kambel, if he had his wits about him, would reply:

I've eaten many a lobster.

And Ageless would explain to him that immortality is a fall back position.

However, none of this happens.

Try again, says Gloria. We must get him to water.

What do you say to me carrying him in my mouth? asks Kambel.

Any means are better than no means, says Gloria.

Kambel picks Ageless up in his mouth. He is soft and smells tasty.

He puts him down again.

I don't think I can do this, says Kambel. My instinct is to consume him.

Let this be a test, says Gloria.

It was a test, says Kambel. I've just said I can't do it.

What would a Knight of the Golden Tortoise do? asks Gloria.

Kambel considers. After all, he is one. His cut toes attest to the sacrifice.

Ageless cannot speak temporarily, or else he would say:

A Knight of the Golden Tortoise would be unwilling to consume or assist me.

The right thing, says Kambel.

Well said! says Gloria.

Kambel picks up the burden.

Soon they arrive at the banks of the River Embley.

Kambel sets Ageless down in the mud.

Roll him in, says Gloria. Let him settle.

Ageless feels himself passing from mud to clear water, ahhh,,,,,streaming water weeds, round pebbles like cushions, an olive sea snake,,,,what is she doing here???,,,,,,,aahh,,,,,,,aahh,,,,,,, he settles.

Now what ? says Kambel.

We wait, says Gloria. I wonder how long this will take?

Surely not long, says Kambel.  Meanwhile I'll have a go with his clay. Care to give me a lesson?

Sure, says Gloria. But aren't your phalanges hurting?

I'll start with the visualisation, says Kambel. Any ideas?

Gloria sighs.

She suspects he lacks artistic temperament.

You Know Scorpius

This is Kambel, says Gloria.

A crocodile! Crikkee! Ageless was expecting a Scotsman.

He closes his eyes and feigns faintness.

Is this him? asks Kambel

Of course it is, says Gloria. Could you perhaps try and lift him?

Kambel tries to lift Ageless, but his front toes hurt. He drops him.

Ageless falls back onto his own broken claw.

Arrrrkk! cries Ageless.

What's that you've fallen onto? asks Kambel.

Ageless does not know.

It's a claw, says Gloria. When he lost his claw the clay remained stuck to it.

Keep an eye on it, will you, says Ageless.

Kambel picks up the claw with the clay lump attached to it.

So this is the Mark of the Claw!

No, says Ageless weakly. The Mark of the Claw must be deliberate.

He makes an effort to continue.

Do you know Scorpius?

I do! says Kambel. They make very bad eating.

Scorpius the constellation, explains Ageless. In the Milky Way

A star pattern, says Gloria.

Scorpius looks like its name, says Ageless. An arthropod with claws.

Does it? says Kambel.

And I am an arthropod with claws, says Ageless.

I have claws, says Kambel, flexing his toes, which do have them.

OUCH! (But he shouldn't have flexed them).

Ageless ignores him.

And Scorpius is immortal, says Ageless. As I am immortal.

Kambel is outdone. He is not immortal.

Gloria is doubtful that Scorpius is immortal. Over time stars do change their relative positions, or even explode. She wonders if Ageless knows that.

O Clam Spam

Gloria reaches the banks of the Embley River.

Moonlight glints on the water, where a pair of discarded green flip flops float gently.

Kambel! Kambel!

Kambel emerges.

Gloria! It's you! Where is the infant with the frog pen?

Back at the cabin, says Gloria. But I have brought Ageless lobster. He of the Mark of the Claw.

Where is he? asks Kambel. I don't see a lobster.

There's been a slight hitch. He is moulting down at the clay deposits, says Gloria. We need you.

As you see, says Kambel, I am currently discommoded.

Is it your feet? asks Gloria. I did wonder.

Take a look, says Kambel. He sticks his front feet up, the toes are quite swollen.

This is no good, says Gloria. I was hoping you might come to the rescue.

For the Claw, I might make an effort, says Kambel. Has he brought me a pot?

The elements of a pot, says Gloria. The clay and a visualisation.

Tell me of the visualisation, says Kambel.

Can we get going? asks Gloria. He will be rapidly fading.

Okay, says Kambel.

He heaves himself out of the water.

This had better be worth it. Oo-aah!

Gloria keeps talking, to take Kambel's mind off the toe pain.

The finished product will be dedicated to you, says Gloria. It will feature you, of course, and various wavy lines representing water, there may also be a clam motif. I hope you won't mind that. He's insisting.

As long as there's a Mark of the Claw, says Kambel. I wish to know all about it, including its history.

I'm sure he can tell you, says Gloria. You're all right with the clam then?

O-clam-spam! says Kambel, dragging himself forward.

She takes that to mean that he is.

....

At the clay deposits, Ageless is languishing.

Nearly all of his carapace has dropped off.

His soft parts are exposed and he should be in water.

He tries to imagine he is.

Criiiiik,,,,,beautiful dark water, streaming with seaweed,,,,,rounded pebbles like cushions,,,,,a spectacled sea snake,,,,,criiiiikee,,,,, where did that come from???

Thud thud. Cruachan! The Campbells are coming!

No! It's Gloria, pursued by a monster!

Awaiting The Scotsman

The full moon shines through the Cape York red gum branches.

A rufous owl screeches.

A snapping frog snaps.

A shrill whistling frog whistles shrilly.

Are we there yet? croaks Ageless.

Not yet, says Gloria, and anyway, we're making a detour.

Didn't you offer to flit low behind me? says Ageless.

I did, says Gloria. Would you like me to flit low behind you right now?

Will it help to propel me? asks Ageless.

It should do, says Gloria. Let's try it.

She flits low behind Ageless. 

Ageless takes a few steps. Yes, it is helping. He feels some sort of wind at his back.

Turn left at that cotton tree, says Gloria. 

Ageless turns left.

Soon they are at the red clay deposits.

Now, says Gloria, grab yourself a lump of red clay.

Ageless grabs at the red clay with his dominant claw. He manages one clawful.

Very good, says Gloria. Now we shall head for the river.

Ach! says Ageless. Not yet. I'll  rest while you give me some pointers.

All right, says Gloria. First: Visualise your finished product.

A round red pot, with creamy white clams set around it, says Ageless. 

White? says Gloria. Could you.... re-visualise that colour?

No, says Ageless, the pot is for Kobo. She is a creamy white clam. I cannot re-visualise her colour.

The pot is for Kambel, says Gloria.

Crackee! says Ageless. I must be delirious. Who is this Campbell? Is he a Scotsman?

A crocodile, says Gloria. Have you forgotten?

No, no, says Ageless.  I have not forgotten.

But he had forgotten.

Manganese and iron oxide make the best decorations, says Gloria. I suggest a crocodile pattern. In between wavy black lines, representing water. You did a fine job on your first pot....

My first pot.....mumbles Ageless.

He remembers the first pot. He traced Kobo on it. A creamy white puffball, soft on the inside.....he had poked his claw into the clay and moved it round a little, to make an opening.........

He moves his claw now. Crack! It opens a little..... 

Half his claw falls to the ground..... 

His willpower crumbles.

Damn it, says Gloria. What to do now?

Wa.....ter! moans Ageless. 

We are not far from water, says Gloria. I shall go to the river and fetch Kambel. He may cooperate, he may not, but I'll .....

He is not listening. She heads for the river.

Ageless lies prostrate, awaiting the Scotsman.

Armless You Are

Ageless has cracked a bit more.

Would you like to sit in the sink? asks Gaius.

No thanks, says Ageless. I have an order to complete before moulting.

An order? says Gaius. Do you mean a new pot for the crocodile?

YES, he DOES! says Terence. But we're not going back.

Very wise, says Gaius. The crocodile was happy with his flip flops.

But I granted him a POT, says Terence

 You need to stop granting, says Gaius.

Crackee! ejaculates Ageless.

A piece of his carapace drops off.

I know! says Terence. Ageless can go back to the river and crack there.

I'm going, says Ageless. Don't you worry.

He starts making his way to the door.

Slowly. Hoping that someone will say:

Help him! says Kobo. He can't go alone in his condition.

I'll help him, says Gloria. I'll flit low, right behind him. Not only that, I'll take him via the clay deposits. He can pick up some clay. Then I'll give him some pointers.

Argh! cries Ageless. Can we get going?

It's very kind of you Gloria, says Kobo.

I'm like that, says Gloria.

She and Ageless proceed though the cabin door, watched by Terence, Kobo and Pinky.

Are you jealous? asks Pinky.

No, says Kobo. Ageless is loyal. And Gloria is harmless.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. Armless! You all are.

This is not worth debating.

.........

Ageless looks up at the sky, which is darkening.

Alas, says Ageless. I won't make it.

You will make it, says Gloria. You made one already. It wasn't bad for a beginner.

To the river, grits Ageless.

Ha! says Gloria. What sort of talk is this from the Mark of the Claw?

Ageless is pricked into action.

Arr! Cracky!

........

Sweezus and Arthur have gone to find a traditional old Aussie pub in Weipa.

(There isn't one)

Terence is drawing with his frog pen. Designs for his pots.

Kobo and Pinky are whispering about Ageless.

Poor Ageless.

Gaius and Humboldt are reviewing the day. A successful flip flop delivery, but.....

After all, says Gaius, that's not what we came for.

Exactly, says Humboldt. We've lost sight of our original purpose. You're right!

Let's make one more attempt to save the new bandy bandies from destruction, says Gaius. There's a full moon tonight, and it's humid.

Ideal conditions, says Humboldt, suppressing a burp.

My Surprise Is Not Butter Chicken

Back at the cabin, Ageless is fuming.

Where is his pot?

Let's go back three or four minutes.

Ageless: Beloved! I have a surprise for you and Pinky.

Kobo: I hope it's delightful.

Ageless: It's better than delightful. Ladies, come out of the plum box.

Kobo: Pinky, wake up! Ageless has a surprise.

Pinky: Oo!

Kobo: We're ready.

Ageless: Sit there while I open the freezer.

Kobo: I hope it's not food.

Pinky: Is it food, Ageless?

Ageless (dragging a chair to the refrigerator): No, it's not food.

They watch Ageless climb onto the chair.

From the top rung of the chair back, he can just reach the handle of the freezer.

He opens the freezer.

Inside the freezer are two frozen dinners. Butter chicken.

But where is his pot?

Kobo: So it IS food!

Pinky: Butter chicken! We would never eat that!

Ageless: My surprise is not butter chicken. This must have happened while I was in the corner feeling poorly.

Kobo: Ageless dear! Poorly?

Ageless: Urrrrgh! Crackle!

Kobo: You're splitting. You must find a safe spot near the water where you can moult in private.

Ageless: My darling! Will you come with me?

The door opens and Terence bursts in.

Ageless topples.

Ageless : Craawwwwwk!

Terence: Serves you right. You stole my clay and made a rubbish pot and it MELTED!

Ageless: Melted?

Terence: Floated away.

Kobo: Was that our surprise?

Pinky: Was it?

Ageless: It was not rubbish. It was the best I could do.

Terence: You have to make another one, for the crocodile.

Kobo: A crocodile! How exotic.

Sweezus and Arthur come in.

Sweezus: What's happened to Ageless?

Ageless: I fell off the chair when Terence burst in just after I learned that my red pot had been replaced by butter chicken.

Arthur: Butter chicken. Let's see.

(It's frozen butter chicken from Woolworths, but Arthur is hungry).

Arthur: Is there an oven?

Sweezus: Use the microwave, buddy.

Arthur: Want one?

Sweezus: Yeah, I'm starving.

Ageless: Uhhhhh! Who will carry me down to the river?

Sweezus: We've just been there. We're not going back.

Terence: You SAID!

Sweezus: I know I said. But ...

Arthur: It's ready!

Gaius and Humboldt come in.

Gaius: Arthur! How prescient! We were just saying how hungry we were.

Arthur: Is this yours? We were about to eat it.

Gaius: In that case we must share our butter chicken.

A noble outcome, at which everyone is mildly disappointed.

Ingenious Hum

Kambel the crocodile glides out to mid river.

The flip flops stay on.

He glides back again.

Very good, says Humboldt. None of us thought they'd stay on.

NOW you tell me! says the crocodile. I must say I'm finding swimming more difficult.

Two of your webs are cut, says Gaius. And I made cross cuts at the inner ends, for wedging the toe pieces.

Ingenious, says Humboldt.

Hum, says the crocodile.

At least you've achieved your desire, says Gloria. O Knight of the Golden Tortoise.

One of them, says the crocodile. Where is Carved Cloud?

Nowhere, says Terence. It's a girl's name.

Nothing wrong with a girl's name, says Gloria.

If you're a girl, says Terence.

It's your reward, says the crocodile. Take it or leave it....... No, don't bother.

Why? asks Terence.

I'll simply ask you, who is Ageless and when will he make me another?

He's a robber, says Terence. He stole my red clay and made a pot that was rubbish.

Not in my eyes, says the crocodile. That pot bore a sign.

I know, says Terence. That's Ageless's mark. The mark of the Claw. It's not a real claw, it's a tulip.

It isn't, says Sweezus. Don't confuse him.

What is a tulip? moans the crocodile. His front phalanges are hurting.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. You don't even know!

That's enough, says Gaius. I think it's time Terence went back to the cabin.

Yeah, come on, little dude, says Sweezus. We'll find Ageless, and ask him to make a new pot.

But not with MY clay, says Terence.

No, we'll get him his own, says Sweezus. Coming Arthur?

Okay, says Arthur standing up from the log.

They head off to the cabin.

Gaius addresses the crocodile.

Well now, says Gaius. Are you happy with the flip flops?

Yes, says Kambel. But I would have liked the frog pen.

Too late. Terence has gone off with it, says Gloria. You are slow-witted.

Only in the afternoon, says Kambel.

Gaius and Humbolt turn away from the river.

Gloria too.

They soon disappear like flies in the distance.

Kambel kicks himself, for his lack of aggression.

Visionary Agony

The crocodile stops groaning.

All right. I will try on the flips flops.

Good man, says Gaius, unwrapping a pair.

How shall we do this? asks Humboldt.

I'll roll over, says the crocodile.

He rolls over in the shallows.

Let ME do it, says Terence.

He takes a flip flop from from Gaius. Size nine.

There are four feet to choose from.

Terence is not the only one who is looking.

Everyone is looking.

So everyone sees the same thing.

Front feet, five phalanges, back feet, four, the back ones being longer. But this is not the problem. His webbed toes are the problem.

YOU CAN'T WEAR FLIPS FLOPS! says Terence. YOU CAN'T GET THEM ON!

No need to shout, says the crocodile. Surely someone here can solve the problem.

Arthur? says Gaius.

Scissors, says Arthur. Or a knife.

Excellent! says Gaius. Do I still have my Swiss army knife?

Back at the cabin, says Humboldt. No wait! I have it in my pocket. I was peeling an apple.....

Surgery? roars the crocodile.

You okay with that? asks Sweezus.

I don't know, says the crocodile. Who will advise me?

I will, says Gloria. If flip flips are the preferred footwear of Knights of the Golden Tortoise, and you aspire to be one, then the outcome should outweigh the agony.

Gloria, says the crocodile, you don't have feet now. You're not the best person to advise me.

Try Arthur, says Gloria.

Do it, says Arthur. If nothing else, you might come up with a visionary poem.

The crocodile thinks about that.

He would like to come up with a visionary poem. If nothing else.

I submit, says the crocodile.

Can I do it? asks Terence.

No, says Gaius. It's my knife. I'll do it. Front feet first. Hold still, Kambel.

Gaius make two quick slits between the first and second phalange of the crocodile's front feet.

Flip flops! Quick! says Gaius.

The crocodile tries to think of other things.

ark! the AGONY!
but O! in the words of Carved Cloud
AGELESS WILL MAKE ME ANOTHER ONE

Turn over, says Gaius. Try them.

Is it already over?

He treads the shallow water....gingerly.

O...O...let them stay on!

Rare Infant Wisdom

Everyone stares at the red pot.

My clay! wails Terence.

We thought so, says Gaius. That's why we brought it.

Why did you leave it in the freezer? asks Humbolt.

I DIDN'T! says Terence. Can I have it?

Humboldt hands it to him.

The crocodile glances at the pot. Freezes. Something has caught his attention.

Terence is examining the artwork.

Let's see, says Sweezus. That mark looks like Kobo.

SHE wouldn't do it, says Terence.

I didn't say that, says Sweezus.

Ageless was MINDING it, says Terence.

Looks like Ageless did more than mind it, says Arthur, wrapping Humboldt's handkerchief round his scraped knee.

The effect is quite pleasing. The red clay stains look bloody.

YES! says Terence. See that mark! That's the mark of the Claw!

The crocodile lunges at the red pot which bears the mark of the Claw.

He desires it.

Terence loses his balance, and the red pot drops into the Embley River.

Oop! It was already crumbling. And it was never fired. Putting it in the freezer was the last thing it needed.

The impassive waters of the Embley break it into component particles.

Rapidly.

It flimmers away.

Look what you've done! says Terence.

Apologies, says the crocodile Too much going on in my head at the moment.

Understandable, says Gloria who has been watching from a high stringy bark.

Why is that? asks Gaius.

Poor Kambel. He has been promised two pairs of Crocs. He has waited. He has not eaten Arthur. He has had his mind turned by Chinese poetry. The Crocs have arrived in wrong sizes. His attention has been diverted by a desirable punching frog pen. He has then been promised flip flops, the alternative footwear favoured by Knights of the Golden Tortoise, and now, just as he seemed about to attain them, a red pot turns up with the mark of the Claw, which means something to him, but it dissolves in the water, as he is watching.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. That's a lot to come to terms with.

The mark of the CLAW! groans the crocodile. Gone forever.

Ageless will make you another one, says Terence. Stop groaning and try on your flip flops.

Wise advice from the mouth of an infant.

The Golden Tortoise

Sweezus has walked back to meet Gaius and Humboldt.

Whoa! says Sweezus. Lucky you're here.

Is Arthur with you? asks Gaius.

Yeah, says Sweezus. But the croc's getting toey.

Then it's fortunate we've brought extra flip flops, says Humboldt.

Awesome, says Sweezus. What sizes?

Does it matter? asks Gaius. We just chose them at random.

It matters, says Sweezus.

As they talk they keep walking.

What's Terence doing? asks Gaius. He appears to be poking the crocodile with a pencil.

Shit! says Sweezus. It's a pen. Why doesn't Arthur stop him?

He sprints for the riverbank, where the crocodile is showing signs of amusement.

Terence is demonstrating the frog pen. Boof! Boof!

I saw you sprinting, says Arthur. But it's not what it looks like.

No, it's not, says Gloria. Kambel loves the pen. He wishes to order a box full.

Punching frog pens, says Arthur. Just when we've brought all these Crocs.

Yeah, but Gaius and Humboldt've brought extra flip flops, says Sweezus.

The crocodile stops toying with the frog pen.

He draws himself up.

And what are flip flops?

Sweezus is about to explain, but before he can say that flip flips are no good in the water, Arthur says:

Footwear, worn only by Knights of the Golden Tortoise.

Hmmm, muses the crocodile. I have long wished to be one of those.

He considers.

Do you have any size nine or twelves? he asks. Or both preferably?

The beauty of flip flops , says Arthur, is size doesn't matter.

Gaius and Humboldt arrive at the log on which Arthur is sitting.

Arthur! says Gaius Your knee is bleeding!

The Way never acts, says Arthur, but nothing is left undone.

Nonsense, says Gaius. Do you have a bandage?

No, says Arthur.

I have one, says Humboldt. It's a handkerchief, but a clean one.

He draws it out of his pocket.

It is stained with red clay.

Damn this red pot! says Humboldt. I should never have brought it.

Wah! cries Terence recognising the clay, but not the artwork.

Nothing Left Undone

Terence is frowning. He is knee deep in mud.

But that's not the problem.

Carved Cloud is a girl's name!

Stupid crocodile.

The stupid crocodile is knee deep in mud too.

Serves him right. His new Crocs will get filled up with mud when he puts his feet in.

Ha ha.

Then Terence will draw him.

He stops frowning, and feels in his shorts pocket for the frog pen.

Yippee! It's there!

The crocodile is eyeing the size eights and sevens that Sweezus has brought him.

He is doubtful they'll fit.

But he can't see his feet at the moment.

Gloria has a suggestion.

Step back into the water, Kambel. Wash the mud off your feet.

Kambel, she knows his real name!

But not his new title.

He steps back into the water. Now what?

Now, says Gloria, float on your back with your feet up. The boys will do the rest.

It doesn't seem very dignified, says the crocodile.

Do you want the shoes or don't you? asks Gloria.

Not yet, says Kambel. First I wish to know your opinion.

You don't, says Gloria.

I do, says Kambal.

Okay, says Gloria. It is the height of ridiculousness for you to wear Crocs, when you live in a river. Furthermore, your front feet are at least three sizes smaller than your back feet. You need nines and twelves.

What contradictory opinions! cries Kambel.

He snaps at Gloria, who quickly flits out of his way.

Sweezus looks at Arthur.

Arthur shrugs.

He is about to intervene with some Daoist philosophy.

The Way never acts, yet nothing is ever left undone.

But he doesn't need to.

Like flies in the distance, two scientists are approaching.

They bear a red pot, and more Crocs in different sizes

Resembling Flies

Midday approaches.

Arthur has been entertaining the crocodile with poetry.

There is only one Carved Cloud
Yet she dreads the spring, blowing cold in the palace
When her husband, a knight of the Golden Tortoise
Will leave her bed to be early at court.

That's rather good, says the Crocodile. I wonder how one becomes a knight of the Golden Tortoise?

It's not about that, says Arthur. It's about Carved Cloud, dreading the spring, like I dread midday.

More fool you for reminding me, says the Crocodile. Is it midday?

Not yet, says Arthur.

So entertain me, says the crocodile.

Okay, says Arthur. This is from the Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge. All animals are divided into fourteen categories.

1. Those that belong to the emperor.

Are you Chinese? asks the crocodile.

French, says Arthur. I have a friend, Sikong Shu, a Middle Tang poet.

Never heard of him, says the crocodile. Continue.

2. Embalmed ones, says Arthur.

3. Those that are trained.

4. Suckling pigs.

5. Mermaids.

Stop! says the crocodile. What sort of list is this?

A fantastic one, says Arthur. Made up by an Argentinian writer.

The world contains more than the Embley River, I see, says the crocodile.

Yes, says Arthur. But today the world is coming to you, like flies in the distance.

What? asks the crocodile.

Number 14, says Arthur. Those that resemble flies in the distance.

I know all there is to know about flies, says the crocodile, and no other animals resemble them.

Look over there, says Arthur. He points towards the distance.

The crocodile looks.

Sweezus, Terence and Gloria are approaching.

Only Gloria resembles a fly, in any way.

Ding! It is midday.

The crocodile stiffens. At last his delivery is here.

Yo bro! says Sweezus, squelching through mud to the log where Arthur is sitting.

Fuck, man! Did he bite you?

No, says Arthur. I fell against a tree. We've been talking poetry. The crocodile's into it.

Boys! Boys! says Gloria. Talk to the crocodile. Don't ignore him!

Good day, crocodile, says Sweezus. I'm Sweezus. This is Gloria, and the little dude here is Terence.

I know him, says the crocodile. The infant who promised me my shoes. Greetings Terence. If I approve of the shoes, I shall grant you a new name.

I don't want a new name, says Terence.

Hush, says Gloria. It's an honour.

What new name is it? asks Terence.

Carved Cloud, says the crocodile.

Urk! Terence hates it.