Clinging To Leg Hairs

I don't often regret things, says Arthur, but I shouldn't have done that.

I don't doubt it, says Humboldt. Your store of Sea Salt is greatly diminished.

Arthur picks up a few grains of Sea Salt, on his finger

Rubs two fingers together.

Sea Salt falls onto his leg.

Forming a zero.

Like it knows, says Arthur.

Everything in the universe teaches us something, says Humboldt.

Not everything, says Arthur.

What? says Humboldt. No, not everything. You need to read my book Cosmos. The message of which is: We must strive to grasp nature's essence under cover of its outer appearances.

Even when its outer appearances are zero, says Arthur.

Humboldt regards Arthur's knee.

Cheer up, says Humboldt. As your knee dries in the sun, more salt forms. Tiny salt crystals, clinging to leg hairs. Look closely at them.

Arthur looks closely at them.

Yes. Why had he not thought of it before? Sea Salt is sea salt.

Sweezus comes back with Leanne. They have surfed in together

Ah! My mentor! says Humboldt. Did you see my first try?

It was good, but don't get too cocky, says Leanne.

Of course not, says Humboldt.

Is this the famous Sea Salt? asks Leanne.

I told her it got lumpy, says Sweezus. Hey! What happened?

I was testing the bag, says Arthur. And it exploded.

With the Sea Salt still in it, says Humboldt. We're recovering what we can of  the Sea Salt, and augmenting it with salt from our legs, but the bag is quite shredded.

The plastic bag lies there.

Shredded. Unhappy.

An unnatural part of the cosmos.

Plastic! says Leanne. Disgusting.

Keeps things dry, says Sweezus. Anyway, it was recycled.

But what do you do when its no longer fit for purpose? asks Leanne.

Dunno, make bricks or something, says Sweezus.

The plastic bag perks up a little.

It has seen many bricks on its travels. They look natural. Solid. A new life beckons.

But the problem remains. How to package the Sea Salt?

How're you going to carry it? asks Leanne. Got any more plastic?

No, says Sweezus. We pick it up when we find it, but there's none out here.

None out here? There probably is, but Sweezus won't be looking while the surf's up.

I've got a lunch box, says Leanne. When I've eaten my lunch you can have it.

What is it made of? asks Humboldt.

Stainless steel, says Leanne. No, only kidding. It's plastic. I've been meaning to get rid of it and buy a Planetbox. This'll make me do it.

Great. That's sorted.

Leanne eats her lunch.

The rest of the afternoon passes in surfing and scraping off knee salt.