Today is the day of the gruelling double climb up Alpe-d'Huez.
Sweezus is struggling up Alpe-d'Huez for the second time.
Surfing-With-Whales rides up behind.
Hey, says Surfing-with-Whales. How about Froomey?
Yeah, says Sweezus. It sucks. You know what? I hope a French guy wins today.
I'm a French guy, says Surfing-With-Whales. Arthur Rimbaud, that's me.
I keep forgetting, says Sweezus. How'd you go yesterday. Get his money?
Yep, says Surfing-With-Whales.
They believed you? says Sweezus. That's cool.
No, they didn't believe me, says Surfing-with-Whales. The dude knew about Arthur. His blue eyes and all that. He was going to report me.
Yeah? says Sweezus. So how come....?
He went out and I nicked it. says Surfing-With-Whales. The whole Lost Property Box. Yeah. It's okay. No one knows who I am.
Awesome, says Sweezus. What else was in it?
Three watches, an ipod, odd socks, leg grips and some weird photos, says Surfing-With-Whales. And Arthur's gold coins.
So he's got them back, says Sweezus.
Not yet, says Surfing-with-Whales.
They ride on up the cursed Alpe-d'Huez, thinking about how Arthur has not got his coins back. Not yet.
They pass two drooping members of Team Saxo-Tinkoff.
They spot the yellow jersey of Froome, behind blue Team Sky.
Way up the track they can see the breakaway, toiling. Is one of them perhaps a French guy?
They no longer care.
What were the weird photos? asks Sweezus.
Looked like sausages, says Surfing-With-Whales. Sausages squashed on the road.
Sheez! says Sweezus. Evidence. You should warn Ageless.
No way! says Surfing-With-Whales.
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