My Teeth Are My Future

Where were we?

Gaius and Humboldt have waded into the river to rescue Terence who has floated away in a tinny.

But they quickly wade back again, having spotted a croc.

It's too bad, says Gaius. We'll just have to watch him.

Yes, see what happens, says Humboldt.

After all, Terence is impervious, says Gaius.

Let us hope so, says Humboldt.

They sit on the log again, and watch the tinny receding.

Worst case scenario..... says Gaius.

Is what? asks Humboldt. The croc leaps up and drags Terence from the tinny .

And breaks his own teeth, says Gaius.

Terence drowns, says Humboldt.

Not drowns, sinks, says Gaius.

But all the excuses in Weipa won't change the moral imperative.

What will they do?

Humboldt gets up and walks along the riverbank, on the off chance of finding a second free tinny.

Gaius keeps an eye on the crocodile.

Terence floats across the Embley River, looking up at the stars.

The bandy bandy smells crocodile.

Danger! Sss!

What is it? asks Terence.

He looks over the side of the tinny.

A dark object!

A CROC! hisses the bandy bandy.

A croc is a SHOE, says Terence. That isn't.

Sss! What are you saying?

Gaius wears them. Green ones. Sweezus says they're strictly for nerds.

Crocs are?

Yes. But that's too big. I think it's a monster.

It's looking! squeaks the bandy bandy.

Hello! says Terence.  Hello monster!

The crocodile raises its eyeballs. Then its snout. Then it says:

I was listening.

Me too, says Terence. It was probably an owl.

Listening to YOU, says the crocodile. What's this shoe business? I heard it was illegal.

An OWL, says Terence. Not an eagle.

Illegal, says the bandy. He's thinking of crocodile shoes, made of real crocodiles. They're illegal.

I'm the king, says Terence. I have a magic bracelet. Somewhere.

So what? asks the crocodile.

So nothing, says the bandy bandy. I was in it. It was meant to be a prison. But I got out easily.

Why tell me? asks the crocodile.

Dunno, says the bandy bandy.

In case you were going to bite me, says Terence. You've got really sharp teeth.

I won't, says the crocodile. Anyone can see you're made of cement. And my teeth are my future.

Not completely, says Terence.

Shut up! says the bandy bandy.

The shoes! says the crocodile. Green ones! The thought drives me insane!

They're not proper  shoes, says Terence. They're like... made of the same kind of thing they make tyres from.

Rubber? says the bandy bandy. Are you sure? I don't think so.

Fluoroelastane, says Terence, remembering what Baby Pierre's tiny bicycle tyres were made from.

The crocodile scoffs. Never heard of fluoroelastane.

Never. Not out here.

I don't know, then, says Terence. Maybe plastic?

Now you're talking, says the crocodile. That's good then. Plastic, eh? Actually... no it isn't. Must follow it up. Nice talking. I'll be on my way. Wait. Want a tow anywhere?

No thanks! says the bandy bandy.

Yes, says Terence. To the other side. We're finding bandy bandies.

You've already found one, says the crocodile.

Different ones, says Terence.

If you say so, says the crocodile. They all look the same, in my opinion.

Ssss! snorts the bandy bandy.  We don't ALL have inter-nasal scales.

The crocodile had never thought of looking at them that closely.