Thinking Pessimism Through

Surfing-With-Whales walks up the ramp, dripping, and dragging his surfboard.

Well! How did that go? says Lauren.

He looks at her darkly.

Uh-oh! He knows!

Where'd you go? he glowers.

You won't believe this, dear, says Lauren. We left Ageless and the Catcher behind at Café Bombora, and when we went back to find them they'd gone off on a tour of the Coorong. So we had to....

Yeah right, mum, says Surfing-With-Whales. And I suppose Mr Chino Pants went too.

Please don't call him Mr Chino Pants, says Lauren. He's a serious person.

Surfing-With-Whales brushes past her and throws open the van doors. Chucks his surf board in.

Bro! says Sweezus, who is already in the back seat with the back pack. When are we eating?

Dunno, says Surfing-With-Whales. Everywhere closes at five.

Shit, says Sweezus.

Never mind, says Lauren. Come back to our place for pizza.

Cool, says Sweezus. Awesome. Thanks Lauren.

You too, Friedy, says Lauren.

Pi-zz-a? says Nietzsche, like a person who has never had pizza.

Yeah PIZZA, says Surfing-With-Whales. I s'pose you've never had it.

No, says Nietzsche. But I know what it is. Will it have pineapple on it?

It will have whatever you like on it, says Lauren. Anchovies, sun-dried tomato, goat's cheese. Come on then, load your bikes in. Let's go.

Surfing-With-Whales gets into the driver's seat, beside Nietzsche.

He waits for Nietzsche to get out and sit in the back seat. But Nietzsche doesn't.

Oh man! The guy's scribbling, on a tissue. One from the glove box. And yeah, the glove box is open. Fuck. It'll never shut now. What's the stupid dude writing?

He glances across without turning his head much.

Whoever has endeavoured, as I have, to think pessimism through to its depths....rip.... and liberate it from...rip....damn.....half-christian half-german narrowness and simplicity......

Hey, that's kind of .....good.

And then there's a squiggle. It looks like a back view of his mother. Gross! But, it may not be.

Surfing-With-Whales turns the key in the ignition. The van roars off in the direction of Port Noarlunga, which is where his mum lives, as does he, in the whale-spotting season.