Tick And Treasure

Let us imagine that Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt have cycled back to Guayaquil, where they have loaded the borrowed bikes on the train.

This, (let us further imagine), was after a short debate about whether they ought to.

Arthur: What if we kept them and got them converted?

Sweezus: Mountain bikes to racing bikes! No way.

Humboldt: And they were not yours to begin with. The children will need them for school.

Debate over. We all know the importance of school.

Let us now imagine that the tardy trio have made their way to the Guayaquil airport.

Say, by taxi.

And they have paid for the taxi with a Sea Salt prognostication.

Taxi driver: That will be fifty five dollars.

Arthur: Would you prefer to know what's in your future?

Taxi driver: Yes. Will I get married?

Arthur: It's fifty five dollars.

And let us imagine the Sea Salt predicted that the taxi driver would get married, by forming a tick.

Now let us imagine that Arthur has obtained three cut price airline tickets to Nantes. The flight leaves immediately.

It's the same flight that Gaius is on, with Terence and Saint Roley.

Terence wants to sit next to Sweezus.

Hi, little dude, says Sweezus. That your new hat?

Yes, says Terence. I got it for going to Hawaii.

How was Hawaii? asks Sweezus.

There was a VOLCANO! says Terence.

Not near you, says Sweezus.

It WAS, says Terence.

Okay, says Sweezus. Is that why the ends of your ear flaps frizzed out?

I don't remember, says Terence.

He's not going to say that he ruined it himself because Saint Roley said he looked like a beautiful woman.

Okay.

Let's say the thirteen hour flight is over. They have landed in Nantes.

Belle and Vello and David are waiting at the airport, having just arrived from Adelaide, via Dubai.

Sweezie! cries Belle. You made it! Arthur! Hi! Terence you look AMAZING! What a cool hat. And is this your new parrot?

This is Alexander von Humboldt, says Gaius.

Ha ha! laughs Vello. He doesn't look like a parrot.

She means me, says Saint Roley.

You don't look like a parrot, says David (ever the empiricist).

I'm not a parrot, says Saint Roley. I've been acting in loco parentis. But perhaps now I'm not needed. I should like to return to Saint Malo where I lost my dear brother.

Bye, says Terence.

I am Alexander von Humboldt, says Humboldt. You must be the famous Vello. I hear you have piles. Very painful.

Vello looks sour.

They make their way to the baggage carousel where the bikes are revolving in flat packs.

One for David. One for Gaius. One for Humboldt. And two others.

Surprise, guys! says Belle. I had your racing bikes sent over from Newcastle.

Brillant! You're the best, Belle,  says Sweezus.

She's a treasure, says Vello.

She is. That's one thing we don't need to imagine.