It was a long and sometimes wet ride from Dinan to Lisieux. Violetta was near the front, hoping to win points in the mid-race sprint. Gustave and Gaius were riding some distance behind.
Gaius: So you say she's brought her paints?
Gustave: Unfortunately, yes.
Gaius: Oh dear. From now on I shall be checking every chateau wall for SPLOSH!es.
Gustave: SPLOSH!es! Good one.
........
Meanwhile, Farky was recalling his dinner with Cadel Evans' dachshund, Molly, the night before. He thought it had been going rather well:
Molly: Thanks for inviting me, Farky. Most other dogs are too scared.
Farky: Why?
Molly: Because of Cadel. Remember 2008?
Farky: No, what happened?
Molly: At the end of the race, journalists were getting too close to us, and Cadel growled at them: Don't step on my dog, or I'll cut off your head.
Farky: Woooh! Extreme!
Molly: You know Cadel. It was a joke really. Or it became joke in retrospect. Cadel even got some 'Don't step on my dog' tee shirts made, and sold them online.
Farky: Leaving out the bit about cutting off heads.
Molly: Wisely, don't you think? Who would want to wear them if they said that?
Farky: I don't know. I bet some people would.
Molly: Thirteen year old boys, for example?
Farky: Why do you say that?
And Molly had then told him something that made his toes curl.
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