Twenty Toe Six

Twenty point six, shouts Gaius. That's higher than normal for this time of year.

As you suspected! shouts Kant. Have you written it down?

Terence has noted it in the sand, says Gaius. I must take a photo.

He whips out his phone.

Where did you write it? asks Gaius.

Here, says Terence. And here.

He shows Gaius the two places.

Let me see, says Gaius..... Ninety!  I don't think that was right.

This one's right, says Terence, pointing at twenty point six.

Twenty six, says Gaius. You have left out the point. 

No, I haven't, says Terence.

Then where is it? asks Gaius.

A wave went over it, says Terence.

No matter, says Gaius. I'll put it back in.

He makes a point in the sand with his toe, and takes a quick photo..

Twenty toe six, says Terence.

Meanwhile Kant has waded further out.

He seems to be shouting.

What's he saying? asks Gaius.

He's saying twenty toe six, says Terence.

I don't think he is, says Gaius. But twenty point six would be consistent.

Yes, says Terence. So would twenty toe six.

It wouldn't, says Gaius. There is no such thing as twenty toe six.

But there is. Terence wonders why Gaius can't see it, when he used his own toe.

Kant is still shouting.

It may be a question, says Gaius. I hear an upward inflection.

He's sinking! says Terence.

Dear me, says Gaius. You may be right. I wonder if my crocs are giving him trouble. 

Kant has disappeared under the sea.

I shall have to go in, says Gaius. Hold my phone, Terence.

Can I make a funny video? asks Terence.

But Gaius has sploshed forward, and dived in.

Meanwhile Kant has got up again.

He is scanning the shore. Where is Gaius? He'll want to see this new reading.

Gaius surfaces beside him.

Are you all right?

Of course I am, says Kant. Didn't you hear me?

No, says Gaius. The roar of the waves drowned you out.

I'm sorry, says Kant.

I thought you might be having a problem with my crocs, says Gaius.

No, says Kant. Not now. But I had to let them go.

My crocs? says Gaius. Where are they?

On their way back to shore, says Kant.

You seem very sure of that, says Gaius, looking shorewards.

Everything that floats washes ashore in the end, says Kant.

Let us hope so, says Gaius. I did not bring spare shoes.

Look at this reading, says Kant, showing Gaius the thermometer.

Twenty point six. says Gaius. Same as it was closer in. 

No, says Kant. It was lower. I took a reading on the sea floor.

So it's gone up again while we were talking. What was it? asks Gaius.

Let me confirm it, says Kant

He disappears again.

Conscientious, thinks Gaius.

Until he remembers the crocs.