Failing To Smell His Divinity

Gaius, Shu and Louisa ride their bikes along Hog Bay Road towards Kingscote.

Louisa is leading.

Can I have lesson three now? asks Terence, who is bored with the scenery.

(trees and grass, trees and grass, road, trees, grass, sky)

Okay, says Louisa. Pick up the trumpet and inhale fully.

What's fully? says Terence.

As much as you can, says Louisa. NO! you silly. AIR, not the trumpet.

You're a bad teacher, says Terence. And I hate lesson three.

Lets just talk, says Louisa. Where's your mother?

In Barcelona, sitting over a doorway, says Terence. Where's yours?

At home, says Louisa. Extracting lavender oil. It's her business.

Yuck, says Terence. That's disgusting.

It's lovely, says Louisa. We sell it to tourists. It smells divine.

Like me, says Terence.

Louisa sniffs, but the air moves too fast for her to smell (or fail to smell) Terence's divinity.

Have you got any pets? asks Louisa.

Yes, says Terence. I have a parrot.

Where is it? asks Louisa.

Kidnapped, says Terence.

Holy moly! says Louisa. Who by?

Dries, says Terence. He's a drama counsellor.

TRAUMA counsellor, says Gaius, who has been following, and is also bored by the trees.

Why would he kidnap a parrot? asks Louisa.

It's not a parrot, it's a baby bristlebird, says Gaius.

I SAID that, says Terence.

So......he's endangered, says Louisa.

YES! says Terence. Dries wants to FORCE him to learn Twenty Names, and he can only say eighteen.

He refuses to say the other two, says Gaius. It's a battle of wills.

Wow, says Louisa. You guys live interesting lives. It's pretty boring on Kangaroo Island. We make honey, and grow lavender, and ...yeah well, I suppose we have pests.

Such as feral pigs, I suppose? ventures Gaius.

Oh way more than just feral pigs, says Louisa. Feral cats, feral deer, feral ferrets, feral goats, feral peacocks......

Peacocks! says Terence, peering into a passing stand of boring bushes. But he doesn't see one single feather.

Ssu-K'ung Shu is pedalling some way behind the others, not joining in.

He is amusing himself by recalling a Middle Tang poem by his friend Liu Zongyuan.

Dwelling By A Stream.

I had so long been troubled by an official hat and robe
That I am glad to be an exile here in this wild south land....

At this point, a heavy breathing sound makes him turn round.

The Flying Pigeon draws level. The rider throws back his dark hood........