Three Practical Men

The postal van rumbles past the wet trousers, and stops at the post office.

It unloads two large packages, which sit there till dawn.

The packages are addressed to Gaius Plinius Secundus, care of Weipa.

The postmaster calls Roderick Coconut, who knows everyone.

I know that fellow, says Roderick Coconut. Leave it to me.

.......

Early morning, at the campsite.

Humboldt has woken early. He has crept out to rescue his trousers.

Morning! says someone.

Morning, says Humboldt, unpegging his trousers.

The trousers are dry.

Been swimming? asks Roderick Coconut.

No, says Humboldt.

Wise, says Roderick Coconut. How's the new bandies?

They seem to have abandoned us, says Humboldt.

Probably for the best, says Roderick Coconut.

Is this a social call? asks Humboldt. You're welcome to come in for breakfast.

Don't mind if I do, says Roderick. I'm delivering these packages to your mate. You can help me.

They lift the two packages from Roderick's truck and carry them into the cabin.

Presents! cries Terence.

What are these? asks Gaius. Oh, I know. They'll be from Sweezus.

........

They are from Sweezus. Two hundred pairs of green Crocs.

You setting up shop here? asks Roderick Coconut.

No, says Gaius. It's ridiculous, but these Crocs have been crowd funded and are to be  distributed amongst the local crocodiles. Obviously, they'll get two pairs each.

Very thoughtful, says Roderick Coconut. Did you consult them?

One of them, says Gaius. Terence did.

Hmm, says Roderick Coconut.

He goes over to Terence, who is scratching lines on the table.

What's this? says Roderick.

A drawing of the plum box, says Terence. This is Kobo and this is Pinky. This is their hair.

I didn't think they had hair, says Roderick, remembering Kobo and Pinky from earlier.

And this is their fist, says Terence. And these are their bosoms.

Do you know about this? asks Roderick Coconut.

What? asks Gaius.

The bosoms, on the table, says Roderick Coconut.

It's all right, says Gaius. It's a fantasy.

Not the scratchings, says Roderick. They're real enough. You'll be up for a new table.

Terence! says Gaius. You should have used paper!

There isn't any paper, says Terence.

There is now, says Humboldt. Each pair of Crocs is wrapped in white tissue.

Too late. The table is ruined.

But there are three practical men in the cabin.

Someone'll fix it.