Zoology, Theology And Psychoanalysis

Gaius, Schopenhauer and Captain Louttit have spent a challenging day in St Francis Xavier's discussing zoology and theology with Father Martin Aye Ngwe.

It is late afternoon, when Arthur enters.

Arthur! says Gaius. Have you brought the water?

Not exactly, says Arthur. But I know where to get it.

We all know where to get it, says Gaius. You were sent there. Where is the jug?

In here, says Arthur, unslinging his Sea World carry bag from his shoulder. Empty. I should have taken Schopenhauer's bicycle. It has a basket.

We should have thought of that, says Schopenhauer. I would not have minded. In fact, I would have happily gone myself.

Captain Louttit is becoming agitated. He is drying out.

Soon it will be too late, says Captain Louttit.

Nonsense, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. It is never too late in the eyes of God.

No, no, Martin, says Schopenhauer. You may know a great deal about zoology, but you have a blind spot when it comes to logic. Even assuming.....

There is a sound of squealing brakes outside St Francis Xavier. A Seahorse World van has skidded to a halt just near the door.

Rachelle Hawkins bursts in, holding aloft a clear plastic bag of saline solution, sealed at the top with a yellow plastic toggle.

Am I too late? cries Rachelle Hawkins.

No! cries Captain Louttit.

Thank goodness, cries Rachelle Hawkins, turning to Arthur. Where's that jug you had?

Arthur holds the sangria jug out to Rachelle, who places it next to Captain Louttit on the font, and begins to fill it slowly with saline solution.

Careful, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe. Don't spill any in the font.

It's harmless, says Gaius.

But unconsecrated, says Father Martin Aye Ngwe.

I'm not spilling it, don't worry, says Rachelle. I'm not wasting it in your silly font.

Even Schopenhauer is a little shocked to hear this. Surely one may hold opposing ideas in one's head at once.

Now Rachelle has finished pouring water, and has lifted Captain Louttit gently into the jug.

There now, Captain Louttit, says Rachelle. Relax and recover. Poor old you.

She sits down on a pew, next to Arthur who is transcribing his Sea Horse poem onto a postcard.

Did you pay for that postcard? asks Rachelle Hawkins.

Arthur keeps on writing. He is up to "sweet prolactin".

Sweet prolactin, says Rachelle. My! You have done your homework. A poet, are you? May I have a copy?

No, says Arthur. Not unless you pay.

..........

Sweezus checks his phone.  Arthur has replied to his message.

He has replied: ax unni.

What does that mean?

He tries calling, but Arthur's phone is now out of battery.

He calls Professor Freud.

Hello! says Freud. Depressed are we? After Easter?

Nup, says Sweezus. Got a mystery message. It's from Arthur.

Go on, says Freud. What is it?

ax unni, says Sweezus. What d'you reckon?

Axe Unni, says Freud. I'd say it was a death wish. You must warn her.

But what if it isn't? says Sweezus.

Does it have an E? asks Freud, suddenly twigging.

No, says Sweezus.

Aha! says Freud. I suspect he means 'ask Unni'. It's the funny way young people text these days.

Sweezus is embarrassed, being a young person. But he pretends he isn't

Thanks mate, says Sweezus.

Any time, says Freud.