Choosing Kierkegaard

Kobo was furious. Now what? Had Baby Pierre got himself locked in a dark cupboard by Mr Lee, who thought he was an interesting conglomerate?

Or was Baby Pierre, just like his so-called daddy, having her on? That bus trip to the city, the people in tinselly hats, the three boys with their bowl full of livers, couldn't really have happened, could it? So where was that naughty Baby Pierre?

She had two options now. Forget about it, or ask Lavender to help. She decided to ask Lavender.

Lavender was perching nearby on the window sill on the other side of a pale blue saki jar filled with white roses.

Lavender, said Kobo, would you mind catching the bus into town and going in to the museum to check up on Ageless and Baby Pierre? They either need rescuing, or kicking.

Yay! said Lavender. You mean I can go on my own?

Yes, said Kobo. There's no one else here to ask, except Pierre and the Manifest Stone, who are both utterly useless.

I heard that, Kobo! said Pierre. You are the one who is utterly useless, not me. You've corrupted my Baby Pierre. You've alienated your boyfriend. You can't even see out of your shell. And as for the Manifest Stone how dare you criticise the All-Knowing?

The Nothing-Doing, you mean, said Kobo, rudely. Anyway Lavender's going. Now Lavender....

But Lavender had already gone.

Right, said Kobo, now shut up Pierre, and leave me alone.

A pleasure, dear sister, said Pierre.

Now, said Kobo loudly, the only way to deal with these disturbingly ambiguous events is to read something philosophical while I'm waiting. Let me see. I believe I shall choose Kierkegaard.

What a wanker you are, said Pierre.