Ear Wasps

At Frutabar, Arthur drinks sticky fruit cocktails until he is sick.

So it ends up a good night for Arthur.

He composes a nightmarish poem. He's a drunken boat, lashed by furious waves:

Sweeter than the flesh of hard apples to children
the green water penetrated my hull
and washed me of spots of blue wine
and vomit, at times I saw what I thought I saw
the low sun, its mystic horrors.....

Humboldt only has a headache. Not even a bad one.

(He ate three gourmet sandwiches, nearly as many as Sweezus)

Come on! says Sweezus. Surfing! Salinas!

Urghh, says Arthur.

He looks pale.

Cheer up, says Humboldt. What will you do with all that money?

New bikes, says Sweezus, and new outfits.

Arthur appears to concur.

Lucky you, says Humboldt. I'm getting an unknown quantity. The ex-bicycle of Schopenhauer. As for a uniform, what do I wear?

Whatever, says Sweezus. Belle'll fix you up. You might get to wear Vello's.

Are we the same build? asks Humboldt.

You're both kind of skinny, says Sweezus. Height, yeah, no, not really. But with bike knicks, it doesn't matter how long the legs are.

Colours? asks Humboldt.

Cyclamen, says Arthur.

Sweezus laughs.

Good one, bro!

Why, is it funny? Humboldt's not keen on the colour.

The three cyclists leave the port of Guayaquil and head for Salinas.

It will take three hours, and forty five minutes. 

Let's return to Riobamba and see what has happened.

Was Terence given the scissors? Yes, and the hat is now ruined.

You wrecked it, says Mariposa. Looks like there's wasps coming out of your ears.

Terence is led to a mirror.

His expression is difficult to read, because he is deciding.

Does he want to look like there's wasps coming out of his ears?

They're not real ones.

Short wool strands of rainbow colours. Frizzing, like wasps.

On balance, he likes it.

Can I have the bits you cut off? asks Mariposa.

I CAN'T HEAR YOU! says Terence.

Mariposa turns his flaps up.

The wasps hover over his head.