Perfections And Unpalatable Truths

On the Indian Pacific, Baby Pierre is sharing his leg room with Brianna.

Brianna is pretty.

I like your colours, says Baby Pierre shyly.

Oh these, says Brianna.

Especially the yellow, says Baby Pierre. Although I don't normally like yellow.

It's not yellow, says Brianna. And anyway, I'm getting it polished. Ee ee ee! And not just the yellow. The cream and the grey as well. It's expensive.

Wow, says Baby Pierre. Should I get a polish? How expensive?

And time consuming, says Brianna, ignoring the question. And painful.

Painful, says Baby Pierre. Like tattoos?

Was your tattoo painful? asks Brianna. What is it? A tulip?

The Mark of the Claw, says Baby Pierre. And it's not a tattoo. I was born with it.

Oo-ee, says Brianna. So what do you know about PAIN?

Plenty, says Baby Pierre. I play Pedal Paintball. Once I even.......

I have to go through a process, says Brianna. Boil, bleach, wash, toothpaste, scrub, mineral oil, and finally, satin-finish polyurethane. Then I'll be perfect.

Yuck! Toothpaste! says Baby Pierre.

I KNOW! says Brianna. But it'll be worth it.

You're already perfect, says Baby Pierre.

Thank you, says Brianna, standing up and twirling on her umbo.

I like your hole, says Baby Pierre.

That's my drill hole, says Brianna. Now THAT was painful.

.......

In Beaufort Street, Gaius, Sweezus, Arthur and Kobo get off the shuttle bus.

Excellent, says Gaius. We're right opposite the museum. Now to find our hotel.

We could go in right now, says Arthur. It's open.

Perhaps you could, says Gaius. Make some enquiries. Ask about.

Ask about what? asks Arthur.

It's a little embarrassing, says Gaius. I've forgotten the name of the sea dragon woman. I think it's Nerida something. She's a senior research scientist.

I'll find her, says Arthur. Wait here.

Good man, says Gaius.

Gaius and Sweezus sit down on a low wall outside the museum. Kobo starts reading her Kindle.

Sweezus's phone rings.

Sweezus, says Sweezus.

It's me Terence, says Terence. I'm in Melbourne.

Woah, little dude, says Sweezus. What's up? Ray wouldn't tell me.

Ray's an IDIOT, says Terence. He told me this STORY.

What story? asks Sweezus.

About the future, says Terence. About me dying.

Fuck, says Sweezus. Where's Marx? I mean, where's grandpa?

I don't know, wails Terence.

Whose phone are you using? asks Sweezus.

A policeman's, says Terence.

Well, ask him to take you to the Marxism Conference, says Sweezus.

I did! It's not till EASTER! shouts Terence. That's a week off. A week and four days.....

Bugger, says Sweezus.

What's wrong? asks Gaius.

Nothing, says Sweezus.