Oh look! said a woman sitting on the front row. Someone's left a couple of exhibits on these seats. Looks like... a Pacific Cultures stone amulet and... a shrunken head!
Baby Pierre looked at Frog.
Time to go, he said.
They slipped off their seats and hurried down the stairs, emerging on North Terrace under a darkening sky.
Hee hee, laughed Baby Pierre. She thought you were a shrunken head!
Why did she? said Frog, looking worried. Have I started to shrivel up?
Baby Pierre peered closely at the leathery skin of his friend.
Yes, he said. You have. But only a little. Don't worry.
I want to see, said Frog. I need a mirror.
There'll be a mirror at the Library, said Baby Pierre. Come on!
There won't, said Frog, glumly. There will only be books.
There will be toilets, said Baby Pierre, airily. And they always have mirrors.
Alright, said Frog, wondering how Baby Pierre had come by such knowledge.
They walked up North Terrace until they came at last to the State Library. The lights were on inside but a number of people were coming out, amongst them, a middle-aged lobster.
Look, said Frog. Perhaps that's your daddy!
No, said Baby Pierre. That can't be my daddy. He isn't red.
The lobster ambled past them, in a purposeful way.
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