Late Redemption

Saturn's sausages! says Gaius. Have you never ridden a bicycle?

Not as such, says Humboldt.

But you were so good on the scooter, says Gaius.

I expect to be good on a bicycle, says Humboldt. Element five. Look at the world with more than reasonable optimism.

Very commendable, says Gaius. Well, I suppose Schopenhauer's bike is out of the question.

What are you talking about? asks Humboldt.

I was thinking you could borrow it, says Gaius. But it doesn't fit your optimistic outlook.

The bicycle has a pessimistic outlook? says Humboldt. How bizarre. Could I re-educate it? Where is it?

In my garden shed, gathering cobwebs in Adelaide, says Gaius. But if you wish, I can have it sent over to France.

Do, says Humboldt. But meanwhile, I suppose I should practise.

I can't believe what I'm hearing, says the waxworm. He can't ride a bicycle. He's going in the Tour de France. He supposes he should practise.

You reckon that's far fetched? says Sweezus.

I do, says the waxworm.

You eat plastic, says Sweezus.

Does he? says Arthur, swallowing the last piece of his tánta wawa.

As a means to an end, says the waxworm.

Arthur would eat plastic as a means to an end, if the end was worth it.

He turns to the waxworm.

We have a business proposition, says Arthur.

Do we? says Sweezus. What is it?

Every package of Sea Salt comes with a waxworm, that eventually eats it, says Arthur.

Salt! Never! says the waxworm.

Not the salt. The plastic, says Arthur. We recycle plastic harvested from the sea. This is next level.

Yeah. Super next level, says Sweezus. Brill! The package that eats itself.

But not too rapidly, says Arthur.

I understand that, says the waxworm. The salt must not ebb away before being used for its purpose.

Sweezus is impressed with the waxworm's quick grasp of business.

What is its purpose? asks the waxworm.

Prognostication, says Sweezus.

I have a prognostication for you, says Gaius. The bulk of the waxworms are out in the garden. They will be shortly be eaten by frogs.

Saint Roley, perched on the window sill, sees Piffy and Pi-face dining on waxworms.

The waxworms taste awful. He should know. He ate one, and regrets it.

He flies out, to redeem himself, by saving the last few.