He bustles about in the kitchen, emptying his fridge.
At the bottom of the crisper he finds a stinky old cucumber, half wrapped in plastic.
He squeezes the soggy cucumber out of the plastic and into his kitchen recycler, also made of plastic.
It occurs to him he could have just buried it in the garden. He is becoming too modern.
He looks for his notebook. Locates it. Looks for his pencils.
Damn! The pencils are missing. And the cheese knife is missing as well.
He tries calling Arthur, but Arthur's battery is flat, and he doesn't answer.
He calls Sweezus.
Hello, says Sweezus.
Is Arthur there? asks Gaius.
He is, but I'm not, says Sweezus. I'm in the office, trying to fix up my article on Vello, Diderot and Rousseau.
What was wrong with it? asks Gaius.
Rousseau was originally a musician, says Sweezus. Who knew?
Not me, says Gaius. Well, when you see Arthur tell him I need those two pencils and that cheese knife.
Nix on the cheese knife, says Sweezus. One of the Writers' Week ladies has got it. She said it was hers.
Drat, says Gaius. Well, ask Arthur to get me another one.
Where are you ? says Sweezus. At home?
Yes, says Gaius. I'm at home. What of it?
Don't you have your own cheese knife ? asks Sweezus.
I don't think so, says Gaius. But I'll look through my drawers. Thanks for the suggestion. You'll be quite an asset in Perth.
Did you ever think you might not need a cheese knife? says Sweezus, emboldened. You'll be looking for sea dragons. You might need a net.
Wonderful idea. And a diving suit, says Gaius. See what you can do.
Great, says Sweezus. I .....guess you're paying?
Yes indeed, says Gaius. I've just received my royalties cheque for the Natural History. It's still a best seller in Rome.
Sweezus sighs. If only he could write a best seller.
Okay, I'll tell Arthur. But he still hasn't said if he's coming.
Of course he's coming, says Gaius, ending the call.
I have a diving suit, says a voice from the window sill. Can I come?
Gaius turns round. Who on the window sill has a diving suit?
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