People Always Complaining

They head east towards Ulverstone.

Rosamunda and Arthur in the front seat, and the others squashed up in the back.

Can I sit on someone? asks Terence. 

You can sit on me, says Unni.

Goody, says Terence. Have you got any snacks?

No, says Unni. Sit still.

I don't sit still, says Terence. Am I tickling?

Yes a bit, says Unni. It's the feathers.

SHE put the feathers in, says Terence.

I thought you liked them, says Rosamunda, over her shoulder. 

Not when I'm sitting, says Terence. They stick in my crack.

Keep still, says Gaius. I'm trying to write a text message. P...O...P... drat!

Pop! says Terence. Who's that for?

Never you mind, says Gaius. Someone at the university. 

We stoppin' at a university? asks Surfing-With-Whales. 

Yes, says Rosamunda. Weren't you listening?

They drive through Ulverstone and out the other side.

We could have stopped there, says Arthur. We could have picked up some snacks.

And you could have gone to the chemist, says Rosamunda. Why didn't you say something?

Chemist? says Arthur.

For a new bandage, says Rosamunda. That one's a disgusting disgrace.

Disgrace? says Terence. Let me see it! 

He stands up on Unni's lap, unsteadily, and tries to look over Arthur's shoulder.

Get down, says Arthur. 

What happened? cries Terence. 

Fell out of bed, says Arthur. 

What is it? says Unni.

His knee is all FAT, says Terence. 

Goodness, says Unni. Why didn't you say? I've got a bandage. A clean one. And some liniment.

You've got EVERYTHING, says Terence. Even money from Christians.

Ha ha, laughs Unni. Not everything. Not yet.

But how do you get money from Christians? asks Terence. They're tiny poor people, always complaining.

What makes you think so? asks Unni. The Christians of Blaxland are nothing like that. They're big and well off and gullible.

Wow! says Terence, sitting down hard on a feather.