We Reject Option Three

Have we stopped? asks Pinky?

Not only stopped, says Kobo. The heavens are higher.

Does that mean we've sunk? asks Pinky.

Let us ask Ageless, says Kobo. Ageless! Why are we lower?

Because the tide turned, says Ageless. Don't fret now. 

But I don't see..... says Kobo.

And the pasta wheels have softened, says Ageless, if you must know.

Then you should drag us, says Kobo.

That is option four, says Ageless. First I shall try option three. 

What is option three? asks Pinky. 

Wait here for assistance, says Ageless. Do you hear vibrations?

I certainly feel them, says Kobo. They emanate from me.

You excite me, my beloved, says Ageless. Move over. We'll vibrate together in the plum box.

He clambers into the plum box.

You won't like my vibrations, says Kobo. 

I like them, says Pinky. I'm vibrating too.

Ageless is in no mood for subtext. 

He squeezes between them.

Feel the anger? says Kobo.

The disdain? adds Pinky.

I'm not insensitive, says Ageless. I know that you ladies are disappointed. But who bought the pasta wheels? Not me. Not you either. We are the victims.

We are not victims! says Kobo. We simply reject option three.

One iota of encouragement, says Ageless, and I'll pull you.

Harassment, says Kobo.

Oh! Do something! cries Pinky.

They are floating. The waves have lapped up and surrounded the plum box. The pasta wheels have dropped away to be eaten in the morning by seagulls. It's the last gasp of option three.

But ah!

Humboldt is racing towards them.

Rolling up his trousers.

Wading in.

Retrieving the plum box.

Really! says Humboldt. This has to stop.

What has to? asks Kobo.

This whole absurd interlude! says Humboldt. Gaius is far too indulgent. The bandy bandies have fled. This was their plum box. And my trousers are wet.

Silently they return to the point of departure.