Terence is talking to Nose, in the kitchen.
I used to live in a palace, says Terence. I had a parrot.
What kind of parrot? asks Nose.
A pigeon, says Baby Pierre.
A pigeon isn't a parrot, says Nose.
Do you think you know better than Terence? asks Lavender.
Yes, says Nose. I used to live in the country. We learned about nature.
My palace had nature, says Terence. Saint Joseph hated the nature.
Of all moments, Griff chooses this to come in.
HA! says Griff. Caught you out in a blasphemy! Sit down, young man.
Okay, says Terence. He sits.
Griff hardly knows where to begin.
Karl Marx aka Grandpa, or Evil Saint Joseph?
He makes a quick calculation.
God pips Saint Joseph.
Assuming you believe yourself to be a cement version of the infant Jesus, says Griff.
No, says Terence.
I have not finished my sentence, says Griff.
Can we listen? asks Lavender.
Certainly, says Griff. Where are you?
She's there, says Baby Pierre. You just can't see her.
Can Nose listen? asks Lavender.
Yes, says Griff. Now, be silent. Terence, do you believe God is your father?
The cement one, says Baby Pierre.
No, not the cement one, says Griff. He would be what we call a false idol.
Okay, says Terence. And is there a parrot?
What do you mean by a parrot? asks Griff.
DOES HE HAVE A PARROT? asks Terence. For taking messages.
Let us stick to the logical argument, says Griff. Forget the parrot.
Wah! says Terence. I've forgotten the parrot!
Remember the balloon one? asks Baby Pierre.
It popped, says Terence.
Silence! says Griff. The point I am trying to make is, God is your father.
And all the air flew out, says Terence. It went all floppy.
I'm listening, says Nose.
At least someone is, says Griff. You understand, do you, a bandicoot?
Yes, says Nose. Karl Marx must be Terence's daddy.
Father, says Griff. And of course, he isn't. But yes, you have understood. MARX CANNOT BE TERENCE'S GRANDPA!
Ha ha, laughs Lavender.
Shut up Lavender, says Baby Pierre.
Don't worry, says Terence. My Grandpa is smarter than this guy.
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