Zigzags And Claws

The plane lands at Cairns airport.

Ageless is persona non grata with his companions.

He shuffles off.

Where are you going? asks Gaius.

For a walk, says Ageless. Outside.

Don't hurry back, says Kobo.

We fly out in an hour, says Gaius.

Ageless scrapes his way to the exit.

Now he's outside.

All airports look the same except for the artworks.

Ageless is drawn to silver termite mounds, covered in runes.

He  tries to decipher the meanings.

Zigzags. Crossed circles. Stars. Claws.

A man looms behind him.

A lobster!

Ageless bows.

Ageless lobster, says Ageless. Traveller, and misunderstood crustacean non grata.

Tom McDonald, aviator, says Tom McDonald. What have you done?

A rude joke, says Ageless. I upset my beloved, and the infant on whom her five fingered new friend was sitting.

I can't quite picture it, says Tom McDonald.

What if I told you the five fingered new friend was pink and made of rubber? says Ageless.

A rubber glove! says Tom McDonald.

Inflated, says Ageless. On the infant's lap.

Like five little willies, says Tom McDonald.

You think it's funny. I thought it was funny, says Ageless. But they didn't.

They wouldn't, says Tom McDonald. So they sent you outside?

I departed, says Ageless. I'm a loner.

I too am a loner, says Tom McDonald. See that sand ridge?

No, says Ageless. What sand ridge?

Over there, says Tom McDonald. You have to imagine it.

Ageless imagines a sand ridge, with Kobo sliding elatedly down it.

Ahh! ,,,,crik crik,,,,, cries Ageless.

What's this about? asks Tom McDonald. Now, imagine me taking off from the top of the sand ridge in a de Havilland Gypsy Moth, because that's the only place I can take off from.

I imagined something different, says Ageless.

How about beer barrels? asks Tom McDonald.

Ageless is taken aback.

No, not beer barrels, says Ageless. A creamy fossilised clam, her colour up, because she is excited, rolling and tumbling down the sand ridge, her skirts flying.

Not something I've ever seen, says Tom McDonald. A fossilised clam wearing skirts.

Allow me my fantasy,,,, says Ageless. Yours is beer barrels.

It's no fantasy, says Tom McDonald. It was in 1928, the early days. I could only take off and land between high tides. Once, in an emergency, I took off from beer barrels.

Beer barrels. You can't make that up.