Sweezus has not told Arthur that baby B-B thinks he's his mother.
His reasoning goes thus:
It would fuck things up.
However, Belle can't keep it a secret.
She is telling him now.
Yes, says Belle. A macaw is bringing him, all the way from Sydney.
Arthur can't believe it. And doesn't.
Belle can see that Arthur doesn't believe it.
It's true, says Belle. Unni told Sweezie.
He didn't tell me, says Arthur.
He would have had his reasons, says Belle.
I know. He doesn't like birds, says Arthur. So tell me again why it's coming?
It thinks you're its mother, says Belle. Isn't that sweet? You'll have to make preparations.
Don't worry, I will, says Arthur.
He heads off to the Velosophy office.
Hi! says Sweezus. Not long now, and I can take time off.
Can we leave early? asks Arthur.
Not till Vello and David get back from Paris, says Sweezus. They're due back on Friday.
So's Gaius, says Arthur.
Oh yeah, Gaius. He's been trying to get you.
My phone's dead, says Arthur. What does he want?
Something about going to Queensland, says Sweezus. They've found this loony-toons shrimp there.
Too bad, says Arthur.
He wants you to call him, says Sweezus. By the way, he knows about your bird.
What about it? says Arthur. That I left it to die? That it didn't? That it thinks I'm its mother?
Shit! So you know, says Sweezus. Does that freak you out big time or what?
I'm working on it, says Arthur.
........
Meanwhile, Mango macaw is flying over Alawoona, with baby B-B.
A dead-looking town, a railway siding, a cemetery.
Should she land in the cemetery? Or should she keep going?
What's five minutes? And baby B-B might cheer up when he visits the cemetery.
Mango lands in the cemetery.
What's this place? asks baby B-B.
A cemetery, says Mango. For dead people.
More than that, says baby B-B, looking at the headstones. Eglintons, Fineys, Flints, Henschkes, and oh....here lies wee Elsie May Upeneet, 6 months......a baby.
Yes, says Mango. Puts it all in perspective. Some get eaten, some don't. Some get a headstone. You won't see a bird with a headstone.
This reasoning eludes baby B-B.
Still, he feels slightly more cheerful. He won't get a headstone.
Knew you'd cheer up, says Mango. Now let's get going. We'll be there in less than five hours.
........
Less than five hours.
This could be a problem.
They're not expected till Friday.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Not You, You Are Lucky
In Balranald, Mango takes baby B-B to look at frog structures.
Mango spots one, outside a Bunnings.
There's one! says Mango.
Was there ever a time when baby B-B would have laughed to see a large metal Southern Bell Frog, painted bright green, wheeling a wheelbarrow loaded with products, grinning, and wearing a hat?
No. Once he was too immature to even know it was meant to be funny. And now he has matured far too much to believe that it is.
It's all wrong, says baby B-B.
I see your point, says Mango. I don't particularly like anthropomorphic depictions either. But I thought you might. What's up?
You know, says baby B-B darkly.
Is it the chickens? asks Mango.
Why do they have to die? asks baby B-B
So people can eat them, says Mango.
Will people eat me? asks baby B-B.
No, not you, says Mango. You are lucky. You're a bristlebird. You are endangered.
Baby B-B does not like the sound of endangered. He frowns and his eyes fill with tears.
Cheer up, says Mango. We're only ten hours away from your mother.
What if he's forgotten all about me? asks baby B-B.
Curse that Alice! thinks Mango. She has awakened all sorts of anxieties in baby B-B.
Your mother is not like just any old mother, says Mango brightly. I heard Unni tell Joshy that he was a poet.
What's a poet? sniffs baby B-B.
It's a person who remembers things in a particular way, and later describes them, says Mango, ( probably thinking of Wordsworth).
I can do that, says baby B-B.
No you can't, says Mango. It takes years of practice.
I remember things in a particular way, says baby B-B. I remember the camp fires and the marshmallow I choked on, then I remember the cherries.
Yes, but that's not a POEM, says Mango. You have to transform it.
Baby B-B begins to extemporise:
I was born into trouble
left in a coffee cup by my mother
so I'm going back to my mother
he is a poet like me
it's a long journey with mango
she flies all the time
except when she stops to reward me
there is a campfire
sparks fly upwards
and smoke
I choke
on a flake of burnt sugar
when I learn to speak
mango gives me cherries
she turns violet
like a hypothetical macaw
we're on a bus
with people
who get paid to kill chickens.
when we get off the bus we cheer ourselves up
by looking at green painted frogs
I don't know about you mango
but it isn't enough
not enough
to make me feel cheerful
That's not bad, says Mango.
Mango spots one, outside a Bunnings.
There's one! says Mango.
Was there ever a time when baby B-B would have laughed to see a large metal Southern Bell Frog, painted bright green, wheeling a wheelbarrow loaded with products, grinning, and wearing a hat?
No. Once he was too immature to even know it was meant to be funny. And now he has matured far too much to believe that it is.
It's all wrong, says baby B-B.
I see your point, says Mango. I don't particularly like anthropomorphic depictions either. But I thought you might. What's up?
You know, says baby B-B darkly.
Is it the chickens? asks Mango.
Why do they have to die? asks baby B-B
So people can eat them, says Mango.
Will people eat me? asks baby B-B.
No, not you, says Mango. You are lucky. You're a bristlebird. You are endangered.
Baby B-B does not like the sound of endangered. He frowns and his eyes fill with tears.
Cheer up, says Mango. We're only ten hours away from your mother.
What if he's forgotten all about me? asks baby B-B.
Curse that Alice! thinks Mango. She has awakened all sorts of anxieties in baby B-B.
Your mother is not like just any old mother, says Mango brightly. I heard Unni tell Joshy that he was a poet.
What's a poet? sniffs baby B-B.
It's a person who remembers things in a particular way, and later describes them, says Mango, ( probably thinking of Wordsworth).
I can do that, says baby B-B.
No you can't, says Mango. It takes years of practice.
I remember things in a particular way, says baby B-B. I remember the camp fires and the marshmallow I choked on, then I remember the cherries.
Yes, but that's not a POEM, says Mango. You have to transform it.
Baby B-B begins to extemporise:
I was born into trouble
left in a coffee cup by my mother
so I'm going back to my mother
he is a poet like me
it's a long journey with mango
she flies all the time
except when she stops to reward me
there is a campfire
sparks fly upwards
and smoke
I choke
on a flake of burnt sugar
when I learn to speak
mango gives me cherries
she turns violet
like a hypothetical macaw
we're on a bus
with people
who get paid to kill chickens.
when we get off the bus we cheer ourselves up
by looking at green painted frogs
I don't know about you mango
but it isn't enough
not enough
to make me feel cheerful
That's not bad, says Mango.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Life Death Motherhood And Comic Frogs
The bus stops in Griffith.
Lily, James and Faruk get off, and head out to Baiada Poultry, to process chickens (and be underpaid).
The bus continues westward to Balranald.
Baby B-B is bored. No one to talk to.
Mango is fluttering up and down the bus, talking first to Margaret and Alice, then Fred and Monty, and then the driver, Barry Wurst.
You got family in Balranald? asks Barry.
No, says Mango. You?
No, says Barry. I'm from Narrandera.
Nice town, says Mango.
Yeah, says Barry. Balranald's nice as well. They've got the first telephone to be installed in Australia.
They've got a mineral sands mine. And comic frog structures......
No kidding, says Mango. We'll have to stop off and take a look, before we head to Adelaide.
Adelaide, says Barry Wurst. Never been there. Is it nice?
Never been, says Mango. I'm taking baby B-B there to meet his mother.
Is he travelling all right? asks Barry Wurst.
Oh yes, he's a happy little fellow, says Mango. He's no trouble.
There is a sharp cry from the back.
Baby B-B, bored and restless, has attempted flying.
Flap-flop.
There is a special art to flying in a moving bus.
He spends the rest of the journey to Balranald being nursed by Alice.
At last the bus pulls up at the bus stop in Balranald.
Mango and baby B-B say goodbye to Alice, and the driver Barry Wurst.
You're very quiet, baby B-B, says Mango.
Lots to think about, says baby B-B.
Don't we all, says Mango. I'm thinking about looking for frog structures. Barry says they're very comical. But you? You look so serious.
Alice told me everything, says baby B-B.
I don't believe that for a minute, says Mango. Not everything. What did she tell you?
She told me why I couldn't fly, says baby B-B. She told me what chicken processing means. She told me that a man can't be my mother.
Nonsense, says Mango. You will fly. It was simply that it's harder inside an inertial frame of reference.
And life and death, and motherhood? asks baby B-B. Are they nonsense?
Of course, says Mango. Let's forget about silly Alice, and go and find those funny frogs.
Lily, James and Faruk get off, and head out to Baiada Poultry, to process chickens (and be underpaid).
The bus continues westward to Balranald.
Baby B-B is bored. No one to talk to.
Mango is fluttering up and down the bus, talking first to Margaret and Alice, then Fred and Monty, and then the driver, Barry Wurst.
You got family in Balranald? asks Barry.
No, says Mango. You?
No, says Barry. I'm from Narrandera.
Nice town, says Mango.
Yeah, says Barry. Balranald's nice as well. They've got the first telephone to be installed in Australia.
They've got a mineral sands mine. And comic frog structures......
No kidding, says Mango. We'll have to stop off and take a look, before we head to Adelaide.
Adelaide, says Barry Wurst. Never been there. Is it nice?
Never been, says Mango. I'm taking baby B-B there to meet his mother.
Is he travelling all right? asks Barry Wurst.
Oh yes, he's a happy little fellow, says Mango. He's no trouble.
There is a sharp cry from the back.
Baby B-B, bored and restless, has attempted flying.
Flap-flop.
There is a special art to flying in a moving bus.
He spends the rest of the journey to Balranald being nursed by Alice.
At last the bus pulls up at the bus stop in Balranald.
Mango and baby B-B say goodbye to Alice, and the driver Barry Wurst.
You're very quiet, baby B-B, says Mango.
Lots to think about, says baby B-B.
Don't we all, says Mango. I'm thinking about looking for frog structures. Barry says they're very comical. But you? You look so serious.
Alice told me everything, says baby B-B.
I don't believe that for a minute, says Mango. Not everything. What did she tell you?
She told me why I couldn't fly, says baby B-B. She told me what chicken processing means. She told me that a man can't be my mother.
Nonsense, says Mango. You will fly. It was simply that it's harder inside an inertial frame of reference.
And life and death, and motherhood? asks baby B-B. Are they nonsense?
Of course, says Mango. Let's forget about silly Alice, and go and find those funny frogs.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Secret Light Communication
Here is a bus, travelling from Narrandera to Balranald, via Griffith.
Here is the driver, Barry Wurst.
Here are the passengers, Lily, James, Faruk, Margaret, Alice, Fred, Monty, Mango and baby B-B.
Mango and baby B-B are sitting near the back.
Comfy? asks Mango.
Eth, says baby B-B.
He is very comfy, because he has a whole seat to himself.
But he can't see through the window.
Lily leans across from her seat opposite.
Would your little baby like a cushion? asks Lily.
Yes, says Mango. Then he could see out of the window. Thanks.
Lily hands Mango a cushion.
Mango lifts baby B-B onto the cushion. Now he can see out of the window of the bus.
What can he see?
Australian scenery.
Going to Griffith? asks Lily.
No, says Mango. We're going to Balranald. What about you?
Me, Faruk and James are going to Griffith, says Lily. We've all got jobs at Baiada.
Baiada? What's Baiada? asks Mango.
Lily wishes now she hadn't said it.
Chickens, says Lily, vaguely.
Kickens, says baby B-B.
Oh how cute, says Lily. He's so little! And he can already say kickens.
Don't patronise him, says Mango. That wasn't very good. It's CHickens! CHickens!
CHickens, says baby B-B. What you do to CHickens?
He fixes Lily with a beady eye.
Um, says Lily. Processing mainly.
Luckily baby B-B is linguistically unable to pursue this further.
.......
Meanwhile in the Hotel le Montmartre, Paris, gendarme Pierre has come to a decision.
My apologies to you distinguished gentlemen, says Pierre. I have been given false information. You are free to go.
Thank you, says Gaius. But it is you who are in our apartment. You are free to go.
Of course, says Pierre. It has been an honour. I cannot wait to tell my wife.
Tell her what? asks Gaius.
That I have met you, says Pierre. David Hume, Carl Linnaeus, the great Voltaire, and you, Pliny the Elder. May I ask what you are working on at present?
Oh... err.... nothing much, says Gaius. Bird language skills, but not till I get home......
Know anything about the mantis shrimp? asks Pierre. That new research from Queensland?
Should I? asks Gaius. Well, yes, of course..... why are you asking?
Just that we policemen would be very interested in their means of secret light communication, says Pierre.
Hmm....hmm. says Gaius. Yes, top secret at the moment, but no doubt, in the future......
Okay, says Pierre. Just thought I'd ask. Au revoir, gentlemen.
He goes down the stairs.
What is it? says Gaius, turning to the others. What's so funny?
The secret light communication of the mantis shrimp, says Vello. Bet you can't wait to get home.
Vello is right.
Gaius is simply itching to get home.
Here is the driver, Barry Wurst.
Here are the passengers, Lily, James, Faruk, Margaret, Alice, Fred, Monty, Mango and baby B-B.
Mango and baby B-B are sitting near the back.
Comfy? asks Mango.
Eth, says baby B-B.
He is very comfy, because he has a whole seat to himself.
But he can't see through the window.
Lily leans across from her seat opposite.
Would your little baby like a cushion? asks Lily.
Yes, says Mango. Then he could see out of the window. Thanks.
Lily hands Mango a cushion.
Mango lifts baby B-B onto the cushion. Now he can see out of the window of the bus.
What can he see?
Australian scenery.
Going to Griffith? asks Lily.
No, says Mango. We're going to Balranald. What about you?
Me, Faruk and James are going to Griffith, says Lily. We've all got jobs at Baiada.
Baiada? What's Baiada? asks Mango.
Lily wishes now she hadn't said it.
Chickens, says Lily, vaguely.
Kickens, says baby B-B.
Oh how cute, says Lily. He's so little! And he can already say kickens.
Don't patronise him, says Mango. That wasn't very good. It's CHickens! CHickens!
CHickens, says baby B-B. What you do to CHickens?
He fixes Lily with a beady eye.
Um, says Lily. Processing mainly.
Luckily baby B-B is linguistically unable to pursue this further.
.......
Meanwhile in the Hotel le Montmartre, Paris, gendarme Pierre has come to a decision.
My apologies to you distinguished gentlemen, says Pierre. I have been given false information. You are free to go.
Thank you, says Gaius. But it is you who are in our apartment. You are free to go.
Of course, says Pierre. It has been an honour. I cannot wait to tell my wife.
Tell her what? asks Gaius.
That I have met you, says Pierre. David Hume, Carl Linnaeus, the great Voltaire, and you, Pliny the Elder. May I ask what you are working on at present?
Oh... err.... nothing much, says Gaius. Bird language skills, but not till I get home......
Know anything about the mantis shrimp? asks Pierre. That new research from Queensland?
Should I? asks Gaius. Well, yes, of course..... why are you asking?
Just that we policemen would be very interested in their means of secret light communication, says Pierre.
Hmm....hmm. says Gaius. Yes, top secret at the moment, but no doubt, in the future......
Okay, says Pierre. Just thought I'd ask. Au revoir, gentlemen.
He goes down the stairs.
What is it? says Gaius, turning to the others. What's so funny?
The secret light communication of the mantis shrimp, says Vello. Bet you can't wait to get home.
Vello is right.
Gaius is simply itching to get home.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Diverted From The Straight And Narrow
But what have I done? asks Carl Linnaeus, as gendarme Pierre gets out his handcuffs.
You have caused havoc all over Paris, says Pierre.
I have not, says Carl Linnaeus. I haven't left this room since the attacks.
That is not our information, says Pierre. You have been seen in many places, moaning and beating a drum.
Ah, says Gaius. This can be explained. What you saw was his wandering spirit.
Wandering spirit! cries Vello. What's this tosh?
Hear him out, says David, who has returned from extinguishing Vello's burning ember in the toilet.
This is a magical drum, says Linnaeus. By means of this drum my spirit wanders wherever it wishes, but I can hardly be blamed for what it does when it gets there.
Same, says Terence. My spirit is a parrot. He drops poo and feathers. I had to leave him behind.
He wasn't a parrot, says David. He was a crane.
Stick to the subject, snaps Vello. Why are we being pursued?
Pierre the gendarme is beginning to wonder: Who are these people?
He demands some identification.
Gaius goes first.
Alors! cries Pierre. You are Pliny the Elder!
David goes second.
David Hume. The famous Scottish empiricist! Mon dieu!
Carl Linnaeus goes third.
Hein? The Swedish father of taxonomy!
Vello goes last.
Merde! Voltaire! Pierre has been chasing the great French icon of the Enlightenment!
Pierre can't decide what to do.
........
Tied? asks baby B-B.
TIRED, says Mango. No, I'm not. Do I look tired?
No-o, says baby B-B. Fah?
Yes, it is still very far, says Mango. Perhaps we should look at catching a bus to Balranald. It might save us some time.
They flutter across to the Narrandera bus station. It is now early morning.
Balranald? says the ticket office person. The bus trip takes six hours.
I could fly it in six hours, says Mango.
Bus goes via Griffith, says the ticket office person.
Blow that, says Mango.
I suppose you go straight as the crow flies, says the ticket office person.
Yes, says Mango. I do. Allowing for wind currents. Thanks anyway. You have a fine town. We enjoyed your fountain.
Did you see our fig tree? asks the ticket office person. It's one hundred years old.
No, we didn't, says Mango.
Pity, says the ticket office person.
Pity, says baby B-B.
Is that your baby? asks the ticket office person. It doesn't look much like you.
No, says Mango. I'm giving him a lift to Adelaide, to rejoin his mother. He's grown up so much on this journey.
Don't they all, says the ticket office person. Well, have a safe trip. Sure you won't take the bus? Couple of seats going begging.
How nice people are in the country!
Mango can't decide what to do.
You have caused havoc all over Paris, says Pierre.
I have not, says Carl Linnaeus. I haven't left this room since the attacks.
That is not our information, says Pierre. You have been seen in many places, moaning and beating a drum.
Ah, says Gaius. This can be explained. What you saw was his wandering spirit.
Wandering spirit! cries Vello. What's this tosh?
Hear him out, says David, who has returned from extinguishing Vello's burning ember in the toilet.
This is a magical drum, says Linnaeus. By means of this drum my spirit wanders wherever it wishes, but I can hardly be blamed for what it does when it gets there.
Same, says Terence. My spirit is a parrot. He drops poo and feathers. I had to leave him behind.
He wasn't a parrot, says David. He was a crane.
Stick to the subject, snaps Vello. Why are we being pursued?
Pierre the gendarme is beginning to wonder: Who are these people?
He demands some identification.
Gaius goes first.
Alors! cries Pierre. You are Pliny the Elder!
David goes second.
David Hume. The famous Scottish empiricist! Mon dieu!
Carl Linnaeus goes third.
Hein? The Swedish father of taxonomy!
Vello goes last.
Merde! Voltaire! Pierre has been chasing the great French icon of the Enlightenment!
Pierre can't decide what to do.
........
Tied? asks baby B-B.
TIRED, says Mango. No, I'm not. Do I look tired?
No-o, says baby B-B. Fah?
Yes, it is still very far, says Mango. Perhaps we should look at catching a bus to Balranald. It might save us some time.
They flutter across to the Narrandera bus station. It is now early morning.
Balranald? says the ticket office person. The bus trip takes six hours.
I could fly it in six hours, says Mango.
Bus goes via Griffith, says the ticket office person.
Blow that, says Mango.
I suppose you go straight as the crow flies, says the ticket office person.
Yes, says Mango. I do. Allowing for wind currents. Thanks anyway. You have a fine town. We enjoyed your fountain.
Did you see our fig tree? asks the ticket office person. It's one hundred years old.
No, we didn't, says Mango.
Pity, says the ticket office person.
Pity, says baby B-B.
Is that your baby? asks the ticket office person. It doesn't look much like you.
No, says Mango. I'm giving him a lift to Adelaide, to rejoin his mother. He's grown up so much on this journey.
Don't they all, says the ticket office person. Well, have a safe trip. Sure you won't take the bus? Couple of seats going begging.
How nice people are in the country!
Mango can't decide what to do.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Two Tales Of Two Wazzos
Gaius raises his arms as the gendarme bursts into the apartment.
The gendarme sniffs the air.
Je cherche la source de l'odeur, says the gendarme.
We seem to have run out of bathroom deodoriser, says Carl Linnaeus. And in any case.....it's not your business. Who are you?
Je m'appelle Pierre, says the gendarme. Branche spéciale. Eh voila! J'ai succedé d'apprendre deux oiseaux!
Wazzos? says Terence.
Two birds, whispers David. He thinks he has apprehended two birds.
Not real ones, says Pierre. It is merely a saying. To kill two wazzos, with one Pierre.
Very funny, says David. And which of us are they?
This one, says Pierre, pointing at Vello, clutching the stick with the incriminating ember.
And this one, adds Pierre, glaring at Carl, who is dressed like a Sami, and holding a magical drum.
I admit it looks rather suspicious, says Gaius, but I can vouch for all of my friends here.
That is not enough, says Pierre. This one has terrorized the dignitaries and honoured guests of Paris COP21 with a burning coal stick.
And still would be! cries Vello. But the ringleaders have already departed.
It is only your own Prime Minister you should be poking, says Pierre. Not other people's.
Vello just got carried away, says David. He won't do it again. I'm dousing his coal in the toilet.
He seizes the stick and the burning ember and heads for the toilet.
Give it a minute, says Carl.
.........
It is night time when Mango flies over Narrandera.
Flap...flap...flap
She has been flying for days now, and feels a bit tired.
She drops down in the Memorial Gardens, and comes to rest on a fountain.
Baby B-B wakes up in his leather contraption, hearing the trickle of water.
Sometimes dreams overlap us.
Sorry, Mango, says baby B-B.
What for dear? asks Mango.
Didn't I pee?
No dear, you didn't, this is a fountain. Were you dreaming?
Yes, I was dreaming of mother.
What is he like, your mother? I have not met him.
He has blue eyes and unruly hair.
Joshy has, too. He is like my mother.
But is Joshy your mother?
No. Just LIKE my mother. What do you think of the fountain?
Baby B-B has a look. It is very ornate, and appears to be made of ceramic.
It's the Hankinson Royal Doulton fountain, says Mango. There are only two in the world.
Where are dey? asks baby B-B.
One of them is right here! says Mango. Isn't that lucky.
Baby B-B can't help but wonder where the other one* might be.
* answer: Pakistan.
(not many people know that)
The gendarme sniffs the air.
Je cherche la source de l'odeur, says the gendarme.
We seem to have run out of bathroom deodoriser, says Carl Linnaeus. And in any case.....it's not your business. Who are you?
Je m'appelle Pierre, says the gendarme. Branche spéciale. Eh voila! J'ai succedé d'apprendre deux oiseaux!
Wazzos? says Terence.
Two birds, whispers David. He thinks he has apprehended two birds.
Not real ones, says Pierre. It is merely a saying. To kill two wazzos, with one Pierre.
Very funny, says David. And which of us are they?
This one, says Pierre, pointing at Vello, clutching the stick with the incriminating ember.
And this one, adds Pierre, glaring at Carl, who is dressed like a Sami, and holding a magical drum.
I admit it looks rather suspicious, says Gaius, but I can vouch for all of my friends here.
That is not enough, says Pierre. This one has terrorized the dignitaries and honoured guests of Paris COP21 with a burning coal stick.
And still would be! cries Vello. But the ringleaders have already departed.
It is only your own Prime Minister you should be poking, says Pierre. Not other people's.
Vello just got carried away, says David. He won't do it again. I'm dousing his coal in the toilet.
He seizes the stick and the burning ember and heads for the toilet.
Give it a minute, says Carl.
.........
It is night time when Mango flies over Narrandera.
Flap...flap...flap
She has been flying for days now, and feels a bit tired.
She drops down in the Memorial Gardens, and comes to rest on a fountain.
Baby B-B wakes up in his leather contraption, hearing the trickle of water.
Sometimes dreams overlap us.
Sorry, Mango, says baby B-B.
What for dear? asks Mango.
Didn't I pee?
No dear, you didn't, this is a fountain. Were you dreaming?
Yes, I was dreaming of mother.
What is he like, your mother? I have not met him.
He has blue eyes and unruly hair.
Joshy has, too. He is like my mother.
But is Joshy your mother?
No. Just LIKE my mother. What do you think of the fountain?
Baby B-B has a look. It is very ornate, and appears to be made of ceramic.
It's the Hankinson Royal Doulton fountain, says Mango. There are only two in the world.
Where are dey? asks baby B-B.
One of them is right here! says Mango. Isn't that lucky.
Baby B-B can't help but wonder where the other one* might be.
* answer: Pakistan.
(not many people know that)
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
I'm In Here!
Mango flies through the late evening light in a westerly direction.
She is heading for Balranald, and making good time.
Flap...flap...flap.
Baby B-B dozes, safe in his leather contraption, dreaming of meeting his mother, and not saying Balls.
His dream goes like this:
Him (baby B-B): Ma-ma!
Arthur (his mother): Hello.
Him: I can talk now.
Arthur: Say something.
Him: Not balls.
Arthur: Good boy. What would you like most in the world?
Him: To snuggle down in your pocket.
Arthur: Okay. You can do that.
His mother (Arthur) gently places him (baby B-B) into his ( Arthur's) feather lined pocket. He (baby B-B), wriggles this way and that to avoid being poked by the needles.
Flap...flap...flap.....
Night falls.
........
Meanwhile, in Paris:
There is a knock on the door at the Hotel le Montmartre.
Knock-knock-knock. Rapid knocking.
Gaius opens the door.
Vite! Let us in, says Vello. The gendarmes are coming!
He and David dash in, followed by Terence.
What have you done? asks Gaius, aghast. What are you wearing? What's that smell?
Vello is dressed in bike shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Common enough attire.
And on his feet, wheeled sneakers, that emit sparks of light when he moves.
The smell comes from a stick with a smouldering coal attached to the pointy end, which he seems not to know what to do with.
Put that stick down, says Gaius.
Can't, says Vello. Might start a fire.
Douse it in the toilet , says David, sensibly.
I need the toilet, says Terence.
Douse it first, says David. I hear someone running up the stairs.
Thud-thud-thud.
It's the sound of a policeman (or gendarme) running up the stairs.
Vello runs to the toilet. He tries to open the door.
Oh no! Carl Linnaeus is in there!
I'm in here, says the muffled voice of Carl Linnaeus.
Damn!
There is a loud authoritarian knock on the door.
KNOCK!
Gaius has little choice but to open the door.
Levez vos bras! says the gendarme.
She is heading for Balranald, and making good time.
Flap...flap...flap.
Baby B-B dozes, safe in his leather contraption, dreaming of meeting his mother, and not saying Balls.
His dream goes like this:
Him (baby B-B): Ma-ma!
Arthur (his mother): Hello.
Him: I can talk now.
Arthur: Say something.
Him: Not balls.
Arthur: Good boy. What would you like most in the world?
Him: To snuggle down in your pocket.
Arthur: Okay. You can do that.
His mother (Arthur) gently places him (baby B-B) into his ( Arthur's) feather lined pocket. He (baby B-B), wriggles this way and that to avoid being poked by the needles.
Flap...flap...flap.....
Night falls.
........
Meanwhile, in Paris:
There is a knock on the door at the Hotel le Montmartre.
Knock-knock-knock. Rapid knocking.
Gaius opens the door.
Vite! Let us in, says Vello. The gendarmes are coming!
He and David dash in, followed by Terence.
What have you done? asks Gaius, aghast. What are you wearing? What's that smell?
Vello is dressed in bike shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Common enough attire.
And on his feet, wheeled sneakers, that emit sparks of light when he moves.
The smell comes from a stick with a smouldering coal attached to the pointy end, which he seems not to know what to do with.
Put that stick down, says Gaius.
Can't, says Vello. Might start a fire.
Douse it in the toilet , says David, sensibly.
I need the toilet, says Terence.
Douse it first, says David. I hear someone running up the stairs.
Thud-thud-thud.
It's the sound of a policeman (or gendarme) running up the stairs.
Vello runs to the toilet. He tries to open the door.
Oh no! Carl Linnaeus is in there!
I'm in here, says the muffled voice of Carl Linnaeus.
Damn!
There is a loud authoritarian knock on the door.
KNOCK!
Gaius has little choice but to open the door.
Levez vos bras! says the gendarme.
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