We Are Our Choices

Crikey! says Belle. Which one of you two is the fuckwit?

Sartre turns and looks over the back of his seat.

Has Sweezus defamed him?

That's the brilliance of the title, says Sweezus. I never say. So it's up to the reader.

Okay, says Belle. I'm going to read the whole thing.

She scans the first page, which is an introduction.

Okay right, just a nice bike ride in the country. Sartre hasn't ridden this far for quite some time. He says so. I ask him when he last rode a bicycle. He says in the war. I say what war was that? He laughs. He says there was only one war. I say which one though. He says world war two. I say gotcha. But he says it was the only one he was in.

The sun is hot. We stop for a drink in a cafe. I say tell me about the war. He says I was a prisoner for nine months in Nancy. I say oh, Nancy. Because I don't know where Nancy is. And he doesn't tell me. Before you were a prisoner, did you do any fighting? I ask him. No, he says, I served as a meteorologist. A meteorologist. How nuts is that? But I say, I suppose someone had to do it. He says yes, we are our choices. I say is that about the weather or being in prison in Nancy? But he doesn't laugh, because this time I've got him, and he isn't happy.

This is very good, Sweezie, says Belle. Balanced. I think papa and David will like it.

Yeah? says Sweezus. Cool. But hey, I want your opinion on something.....

He jumps out of his seat beside Sartre and sits down next to Belle, in the seat vacated by Terence and Baldy.

Terence and Baldy come back from the snack bar, with Arthur.

Terence has two Twix's, a Kit Kat and a Mars Bar. Baldy has a pain au chocolat in a brown paper bag.

Arthur has a pavé au jambon, a sandwich, a box of Pringles and a packet of cacahuétes.

And Sartre's ten euro note, crumpled up in his pocket.

You got a lot for ten euro, says Sartre.

Yes, says Arthur.

He told a LIE, says Terence.

Sartre looks interested.

Sit here, says Sartre, patting the empty seat beside him, meaning Arthur.

Too late. Terence has already sat down. And Baldy has squeezed in beside him.

Anything for me? enquires Gaius.

Peanuts, says Arthur.

Good man, says Gaius, taking the packet.

He rips it open. Several peanuts fall onto his copy of the Moreton Bay Council Planning Scheme.

Here are three chocolate bars, says Terence to Sartre.

Why do I see four? says Sartre.

Because two of them are Twix's says Terence. And the other two are different. You can pick one.

Hmm, which one? says Sartre. Twix, Kit Kat or Mars Bar?

Do I get one? asks Saint Roley.

Okay, says Terence.

Which one tastes most like a mollusc? asks Saint Roley.

The Mars Bar, says Terence. (He doesn't know).

And the next most is the Twix's says Baldy. (He doesn't know either).

Sartre is an intellectual with reasoning capabilities. He suspects they don't know.

But to be on the safe side he chooses the Kit Kat.