Haysoos

The fish and chips were eaten and the plates were washed. Everyone was sitting around the table chatting. Mrs Hume had begun to warm to Sweezus.

You know, she said, I would be inclined to believe it, if you were Spanish.

Believe what? asked Sweezus, suppressing a burp of repletion.

You name being Jesus, said Mrs Hume. A lot of Spanish are called Jesus.

They are, but they pronounce it Haysoos, said Sweezus.

Do they really? said Mrs Hume. And do they pronounce Joseph Hoseph?

Hosay, I think, but I don't really know, said Sweezus, not being Spanish myself.

What a pity, said Mrs Hume. I like the Spanish. Except for that Alberto Contador.

We don't like him either, said Farky, butting in. He's our main rival in the Tour de France.

That's no reason for not liking him, said Le Bon David.

There you go, David, said Mrs Hume. Philosophising in that shallow Velosophy way.

Mother, said Le Bon David. I hadn't finished my argument.

Well, said The VeloDrone. It's been lovely, Mrs Hume, but we've all had a very long day, including, no doubt, yourself. I think it's time for us to be thinking of going.

Everyone stood up.

Well, thank you David dear, for picking me up and driving me home, said Mrs Hume. And good luck all of you in the Tour de France. Oh, and when you go out, would one of you mind turning my pot? The one in the corner with the tree? You look strong, she said, looking at Sweezus.

Alright, said Sweezus. No worries. Bye Mrs Hume!

Le Bon David grinned at The VeloDrone as they stepped out into the night.

That went pretty well, he said.

It did, agreed The VeloDrone.