Indulgence, Unease and Serenity

But this water is orange, says Freud. And Terence is blue. I'll obtain some fresh water.

I want this water, says Terence.

Terence is lowered into the basin of orange water.

How we indulge children these days!

Some blue paint washes off.

.......

The water is brown, and Terence is several shades paler, but his shorts are still monochrome blue.

You had better get out now, advises Gaius. One should not stay too long under water

I don't want to, says Terence. Look at my beach shorts! They're not clean yet.

Kong Fu-Zi heaves himself up from his camp chair, and leans over the basin.

Take them off, suggests Kong Fu-Zi.

Terence struggles.

He can't get the shorts off.

Let me, let me! cries Baby Pierre.

........

To cut a long story short, let us return to the scene five minutes later.

Terence is resting on the grass under a Box Mistletoe.

Baby Pierre is riding his tiny bicycle round and around in the basin. Sloosh, sloosh!

The water is black.

And the shorts are in tatters.

........

Terence has been given a Panadol by Professor Freud, who always keeps some in his tool box.

So he is not crying.

He is looking up into the tree.

He sees a Rainbow Lorikeet, looking down at him contemplatively.

Plop! Even so, Terence won't cry.

......

All the grownups are sitting outside the van, on camp chairs, drinking cups of hot tea.

It's not much of a business plan, observes Victor. How do you expect to make money?

I don't expect to make money, says Freud. There are things more important than money.

Agreed, says Victor. But a business plan, I mean, I ask you......

I find myself in agreement, says Kong Fu-Zi. Your business plan is salubrious. I have spent a delightful afternoon snoozing, and dreaming of home.

Exactly, says Freud. And I have washed my curtains.

And WE got into TROUBLE! says Baby Pierre, from the depths of the basin.

So who is unhappy? asks Freud. No one.

Gaius feels this is wrong. He is uneasy about something. What is it?

I am uneasy about something, says Gaius. I just can't pinpoint it.

That often happens, says Freud. Relax. It'll come.

Gaius relaxes. It comes.

Ah yes, Victor, says Gaius. The lady! Who is she? I have been racking my brains. Kong Fu-Zi doesn't know any ladies.

What lady? asks Freud.

The lady who set Victor onto us, says Gaius. The lady who claimed the Platonic Ideal had been stolen.

Stolen? Is there a reward? asks Freud.

No, there isn't, says Victor. And my lips are professionally sealed.

...

Terence looks up at the Lorikeet.

The Lorikeet looks down on him.

You are remarkably serene, says the Lorikeet. Don't you hate me?

I will soon, says Terence. A tear forms in his little blue eye.