The Joy Of Not Being Spanish

The Wicked camper travels east down the Bass Highway, in the direction of Penguin.

Rosamunda is driving. Unni is beside her. In the back are Marx, Terence and Stew.

Grandpa, says Terence.

What is it? says Marx, aroused from a reverie of sweet honey... and soft artisan chocolate.

What if you like something you're not meant to? asks Terence.

Marx shifts uncomfortably.

Stew grins.

Such as, says Marx stiffly.

Birds, says Terence. I sometimes don't like them, but sometimes I do.

The proper way to resolve a contradiction, says Marx, is through dialectic.

I don't have a phone, says Terence.

Dialectic is something you DO, says Marx. Through dialectic, contradictions are resolved at a higher level of truth.

I get it, says Stew. It's like arguing.

No, says Marx. Not like arguing.

Until someone wins, says Stew.

Until the truth is reached, says Marx.

I get it, says Terence.

But how do you know when you've reached it? asks Stew.

Everyone stops talking, says Terence.

.........

Sweezus and Surfing-With-Whales are cycling some distance behind the Wicked camper.

I dunno about going to Penguin, says Sweezus.

How come? says Surfing-With-Whales.

Dunno, says Sweezus. Like.... I just gave in too easily.

Gave in? says Surfing-With-Whales. It's on the WAY, man.

I'm the one who's older, says Sweezus, pursuing his demon.

Older than who? Oh. At last Surfing-With-Whales gets it.

Terence, says Surfing-With-Whales, is a cement head.

Yeah but that makes it worse, says Sweezus. I have to live with starting out as this cement head, that likes penguins.

And parrots, says Surfing-With-Whales. But not owls, he adds, helpfully.

Yeah, that's cool, says Sweezus. Not owls.

And anyway, says Surfing-With-Whales. Isn't he fucken Spanish?

Spanish! Yes Terence is Spanish! He's from Barcelona. The Sagrada Famiglia. And Sweezus himself is not Spanish.

The highest level of truth has been reached, through dialectic.

Sweezus feels liberated. He speeds up.

Surfing-With-Whales speeds up to match him.

They turn their heads to look at the coastline. Rugged cliffs, emerald waters, thrusting rocks, the odd  seabird gliding down on a thermal......

They continue to ride towards Penguin.