On the Move

Baby Pierre looked back at the Jellyfish Oracle's rock. There was Ageless, comfortably perched on the edge, nattering away about something. No wonder Lavender was impatient. Baby Pierre was feeling pretty impatient himself. Perhaps it was time to say something.

Ageless and the Jellyfish Oracle were talking about Kobo.

And how is dear Kobo? asked the Jellyfish Oracle.

Oh, much the same, said Ageless. Being a fossilised clam means you don't change that much.

Tell me about it, said the Jellyfish Oracle. Being a mosaic means much the same thing. You don't know how lucky you are.

Yes, but there's always the fear, said Ageless.

True, said the Jellyfish Oracle. You fear a horrible death. But Kobo and I, we fear boredom.

Nonsense, said Ageless. That's what books are for. Kobo never gets bored. She was the one who introduced me to stories. I bet she would love this book about sand. I shall send it to her when you've read it. There's a wonderful part about dunes.

Dunes! said the Jellyfish Oracle. What sort of dunes?

Sand dunes in Africa, said Ageless, the crescent-shaped ones called barchans. They move slowly across the desert, never changing their shape.

How do we know? asked the Jellyfish Oracle.

We know, said Ageless, because of Ralph Bagnold's rubbish. He was a scientist interested in sand dunes. In 1930 he camped in front of a barchan, leaving his rubbish behind to be buried as the barchan advanced. Fifty years later, another scientist found Ralph Bagnold's rubbish 150 metres away, behind the barchan. So he knew exactly how far the barchan had moved.

How delightful, said the Jellyfish Oracle. I like stories about things that move.

That's good, said Baby Pierre, appearing suddenly behind them. Because it's time we were off.

Tattoo

Time to go, Lavender, said Baby Pierre.

But Lavender was already at the front door.

Are you really my cousin? asked Baby Pierre, as they waited at the bus stop.

Your mummy's my auntie, said Lavender. So's Kobo.

They're not really sisters, said Baby Pierre. Mummy's a stone and Kobo's a fossilised clam.

I'm not a stone or a fossilised clam, said Lavender.

What are you? asked Baby Pierre. You look like a stone to me.

The stone part's not me, said Lavender. I'm the indentation.

You mean you're a hole? said Baby Pierre, astonished.

I'm the space where a shell used to be, said Lavender.

Baby Pierre found this hard to believe. She was saying she didn't exist.

Girls! he thought. They just make things up.

The bus came along. They got on. The bus passed some shops.

Oh look, Baby Pierre! said Lavender excitedly. Lords of Ink! It's a tattoo parlour! I always wanted a tattoo.

Baby Pierre was disgusted.

How can you get a tattoo, he said, when you're just empty space?

Lavender's face fell. Baby Pierre felt sorry.

I suppose you could get one on your bottom, he conceded.

But Lavender did not brighten up.

That Tricky Pierre

Alas! said Pliny the Elder. Kobo is dead! She was my favorite. Why did you kill her off?

What makes you think she's dead? I asked.

It is here in black and white, said Pliny. Defunct. And she hadn't even finished Humboldt's Gift, he added.

It wasn't me who said she was dead, I replied. It was that tricky Pierre.

Oh, said Pliny. You mean...?

Think about it, Pliny. Kobo is a fossilised clam. How could she die? And you should know the dimensions of the Horrid Hole in our kitchen sink. Would Kobo fit down it? I think not.

Aha, said Pliny. Pierre was lying. Will Ageless find out?

You'll have to wait and see, I said. But I thought it was time for a break.

What about Humboldt's Gift? said Pliny. By the time we come back to these characters Kobo will be reading something else!

Are you interested? I asked. Then you're in luck because I've been reading it too.

I know that, said Pliny. But I'm sure you won't mind me saying that Kobo's opinion of the novels she reads is always far more interesting than yours.

But Kobo didn't understand it, I said. It wasn't just about the Gift. Or rather it was but the gift was more than just the film script. The gift was a lesson in what is important in life besides money. And Humboldt didn't even know he was giving that gift. That's why the book won the Pulitzer Prize. Americans are suckers for that sort of thing. Especially if it's funny at the same time.

It was funny? said Pliny. Kobo never said it was funny.

Well, there you are, I said. She can be quite thick.

Your Sister, Kobo?

dear kobo sorry,,,sorry for lying,,,,,

but i know something of latin all the same,,,,,,if the tomatoes are saying mango mango mango i do not think they can be speaking latin,,,,

mango is the latin word for dealer,,,, no,,, i think they are more likely speaking tamil,,,,,in tamil mango is the word for a mango,,,,,

yes i have a story for you kobo it is about another beach another day a very hot day ,,,,,i was at noarlunga i was at the cliff end where the river meets the sea,,,,sitting in the water,,,,

some young humans were sitting in the water in a row,,,,, they were looking at a boy who was standing half way up the cliff on a ledge,,,,,jump they called out jump,,,,, he didn't want to then he did,,,,,,kersplash,,,, easy!!! a wussy boy ,,,,,

there were lots of humans in the river playing ,,,,,some were very white,,,, two were floating on inflatable shoes,,,, the name of the inflatable shoes was havaianas,,,,,, it looked so comfy to be floating on the havaianas,,,, the girl's was pink with flowers and the boy's was like the australian flag,,,,,,,everyone was laughing laughing,,,,,no one minded that the river was much dirtier than the sea,,,,

some big men climbed the cliff and jumped in from a higher ledge,,,, to do better than the boys,,,,some girls were looking,,,,not everyone was looking,,,,

do you like it kobo???

kobo,,,,,,no i do not think i like your stephen fry book,,,,,,i don't like funny things or universities,,,,,i am a lobster,,,,,,hurry up and finish it and give it to your sister,,,,, that reminds me kobo,,,

how is it you have a sister???? you are a fossilised clam,,,,of course there is a logical answer,,, please tell your good friend,,,,,

ageless xx

The Ageless Lobster

dear fossilised clam,,,,,,,

clikclik,,,,I just read what you wrote it moved me so, gulp,,,,,

i am that lobster you were so angry with for wishing i was you,,,,,,

now i have been thinking, gulpppp, ,,,,,thinking, that i'm quite glad i'm not you ha ha

no that was wrong of me, i did not mean ha ha, ,,,,,yes you moved me so,,,,,,,oh,,,,

you have a lovely way of writing more refined than me,,,,,,i can't stop cliking and producing commas,,,,,,it comes of having large unwieldy nippers,,,,,

i think i understand why you like the letter m,,,, you have a vague and distant memory of a time when you had moveable lips? mmm? a little joke ,,,,,, mmm?

would you like to meet we might clikclik,,,,,we might have many things to say, we might even team up what do you say,,,,,, together,,,we could pool our thoughts,,,,,,,where do you reside?

please answer soon,,,, your friend the ageless lobster,,,,,, clik gloop,,,,,, ps,,, do you have a pen name? i call myself the ageless lobster.

The Fossilised Clam Begs to Differ

mmmmmso that's what he thinks does he. ppprp. he'd rather be a fossilised clammmmm, well i'm a fossilised clam.

let me tell you a bit about life as a fossilised clam mister lobster, it is hard and long and dull the life of a fossilised clammm.

i was once a fresh soft squishy clammm although i hardly rememmmmber. i lived inside my clammm shell it was made of clammshell. it was light.

i rolled around contentedly on the ocean floor doing what clammmmms do i can't even remmmmember what that was but i know things used to happen.

and then one day i found myself emmmbedded in a bed of silt i couldn't get free of the silt it was so heavy it got heavier and heavier. over centuries and eons it turned to stone under the sea.

i was really bored you just try it sommmmetimmmme mister lobster.

my shell protected me but i had zilch to eat. ppprp. and i couldn't mmmove.

it was a very long time before i noticed something happening to my shell bit by bit it was mmmmineralising yes that was what it did.

and as it mmmineralised it got heavier and heavier i suppose you think i wouldn't notice embedded in the rock but let me tell you yes i did. my optimistic view of life diminished.

time passes very slowly when you are a fossil, i would give anything to have your life mister lobster i would not fear a predator i would rejoice to think that i was soft enough to eat i would not fear the transmmmmogrifying fire. ppprp.

Lobster Thoughts from the Sea Bed

clik clik,,,,,, a very lo-o-o-o-ng morning it is,,,, clik clik,,,,,, let me introduce myself i am a lobster and not a young lobster,,,, clik clik,,,,, oh my nippers,,, oh i've swallowed my teeth,,,, wait a minute,,,,,clik clik,,,,,,

that's better,,,,,,its not often a lobster can express his thoughts,,,,, i'm grateful ,,,,,, life for a lobster is very different from life for the likes of you,,,,,,,

we lobsters,,,,, we don't age like you ,,,,, we die by misadventure,,,,, clik clik,,,,,gloop,,,,, you could never understand how terrible it is,,,,,,,,,

we all have to die sometime,,,, you and we lobsters all have to die,,,,,,,but you live in the happy hope of one night dying,,,,, comfortably at home,,,,,, in your own downy bed,,,, gulppgloop,,,,,that is your best case scenario so to speak ,,,,,now,,,,, clik clik,,,,,imagine you are me,,,,,

i live my whole life knowing that my end will be a violent one ,,,,,,,, oh a violent one,,,, it's horrible to think of dying like a lobster like me ,,,oh,,,,

dreadful rumours abound in the lobster world,,,,, we think,,,,, we do not know ,,,,, we think that there are ways of dying even worse that being eaten by a predator,,,, gulppp,,, bit by bit,,,,,,,

sometimes we find,,,,, in pieces,,,,the carapaces of our fellows, turned bright red by some transmogrifying fire,,,,,,,,, their flesh all vanished,,,,,gone,,,,,,,ohh,,,,,gulp,,,,,clik,,,,,,

i wish i was a fossilised clam,,,