A Reason For Squeezing

Kant returns from the car park, wearing his mask.

Where is Sweezus? asks Kant.

He and Arthur are back in the water, says Gaius. 

I have his car keys, says Kant.

I'm sure they'll be quite safe with you, says Gaius.

Can we get started? says Terence.

Certainly, says Gaius. What would you like to do?

Work the thermometer, says Terence.

I was thinking more along the lines of counting dead creatures, says Gaius.

I've already done that, says Terence. One fish is the answer. And one dead horse leafy. 

Such a beautiful creature, says Kant. Where is it?

I squeezed it, says Terence, and it went a bit flat.

Any reason? asks Kant.

Squeezing is a reason, says Terence.

I mean a reason for squeezing, says Kant.

To get the spit out, says Terence. And I got some. But now you don't need it.

He certainly doesn't, says Gaius. The cure for coughing was horse saliva. 

When was this? asks Kant. 

Many years ago, says Gaius. I was just thinking back.

But we're not here to think back, says Kant.

True, says Gaius. Would you like to 'work the thermometer'?

Me? says Kant. I suppose so. How far in should I go?

Can you roll up those trousers? asks Gaius.

They're not my best trousers, says Kant. I'll roll them.

He rolls up his trousers, revealing his tapes.

What are those for? asks Terence.

To hold up my socks, says Kant. 

Where do the tapes stop? asks Gaius.

In the pockets of my jacket, says Kant. Attached to a spring in a box,

Ingenious, say Gaius. I often have trouble with my socks disappearing.

Where to? asks Terence.

Into the ends of my crocs, says Gaius.

Yikes, says Terence.

Perhaps I could borrow your crocs, says Kant. I don't fancy walking into the water with bare feet. There may be pebbles.

Yes you may, says Gaius kicking his crocs off. 

Kant unhooks the tapes from his socks. Takes off his shoes and socks and steps into the crocs.

These are comfy, says Kant.

I know, says Gaius. Now, here's the thermometer. Firstly, measure the surface temperature of the water. When you have a reading, call it out to me.

No, call it to me, says Terence. 

All right, to Terence, says Gaius. And I'll write it down.

And I'll write it down too, says Terence. In case Gaius hasn't got a pencil.

Do YOU have a pencil? asks Gaius.

Who needs a pencil? says Terence. I've got all this sand to write on.

That is so, but the tide will come in and wash it away, says Gaius.

You can take a photo, says Terence.

Gaius is astonished at the simplicity of this solution.