Hong Kong to Adelaide.
Eight hours fifty minutes.
Gaius eats water chestnut patties on jasmine rice.
His neighbour is tackling Chinese sausages.
Is this breakfast or lunch? asks the neighbour. I lose track.
It matters not, at high altitudes, says Gaius.
True, says the neighbour.
Munch, munch.
I see you are a bird man, says the neighbour.
A natural historian, says Gaius. With an interest in birds. The parrots you see here are not mine however. They have their own passports.
Even the toy one? asks the neighbour.
His name is Jinjing, says Gaius. I must say, I had some trouble with his passport, because he didn't match the photo.
I'm surprised he needed one, says the neighbour.
He needed one to get his own seat, says Terence.
Lucky bird, says the neighbour. And good luck to you. My name is Bing, by the way. Bing Barton, bird fancier.
Ah, says Gaius. Hence your interest.
Indeed, says Bing Barton. I've just been reading something in Science Daily, I wonder if you've read it?
Possibly not, says Gaius. I have been engrossed in my notes on the forty spotted pardalote, and the orange bellied parrot.
Two of the so-called difficult birds, says Bing Barton.
We're going to Tasmania to find them, says Terence.
To find them! says Jinjing.
It talks! says Bing Barton.
After a fashion, says Gaius. But do tell me what you were reading.
A fascinating article about bird brains, says Bing. It seems a big brain is not always helpful. A big gut can be far more useful in the higher latitudes, for example.
Can't we have both? asks P. krameri.
This is P. krameri says Gaius. An intelligent bird.
A bird brain, says Terence.
Thank you, Terence, says P. krameri.
Gut tissue and brain tissue are both energetically demanding, says Bing. A bird with a small brain and a large gut may have the advantage in extreme conditions.
What advantage? asks P. krameri.
They can eat anything, says Bing. Pine needles, even twigs if only twigs are on offer.
I must read that, says Gaius.
Do, says Bing. How were the water chestnut patties?
Highly digestible, says Gaius How were the sausages?
A bit spicy, says Bing.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Friday, August 30, 2019
If It Doesn't It Doesn't
They leave Mouldy with Chen and her mother, in Bite and Bite.
Mouldy's future looks rosy, says P. kameri.
Because of the red bike, says Terence.
He may well be spoilt, says Gaius.
Spoilt, says Jinjing.
Try saying something longer, says Terence.
Something longer, says Jinjing.
Never mind, says Gaius. I'm sure he is capable. Remember what he said as we were leaving?
No, says Terence. What did he say?
He said Your burger is ready, says Gaius.
But you didn't have a burger, says Terence.
No, says Gaius. The point is, he changed the determiner.
Jingjing looks confused.
He did not know he had changed the determiner. Is something wrong with his button?
Chen said, My burger is ready, says Gaius. And Jinjing said Your burger is ready.
So whose burger was it? asks Terence.
Gaius rolls his eyes. P. krameri answers.
Hers, says P. krameri. Not his. Therefore Jinjing has demonstrated linguistic intelligence.
Yay! says Terence. I knew I made a good swap.
Of course Mouldy could have said the same thing, and we wouldn't have been surprised, says Gaius.
Why? asks Terence.
Different expectations, says Gaius. My suggestion is, persevere with Jinjing.
Okay, says Terence. Jinjing, whose burger was it?
Was it? says Jinjing.
Yes, says Terence. It was. Your answer shows linguistic intelligence. Would you like your own seat on the plane?
Own seat on the plane, says Jinjing.
I suppose he can have his own seat, says Gaius. We have Mouldy's passport. But first, we should check the photo to see if the two look the same.
He takes out Mouldy's passport.
Holds it up next to Jinjing.
Same, says Terence.
No way, says P. krameri. Mouldy didn't have a button.
That's not in the photo, scoffs Terence.
Jinjing sneaks a sideways look at the passport photo.
He would love his own seat on the plane.
It should do, says Gaius. And if it doesn't it doesn't.
He's not worried, either way.
Mouldy's future looks rosy, says P. kameri.
Because of the red bike, says Terence.
He may well be spoilt, says Gaius.
Spoilt, says Jinjing.
Try saying something longer, says Terence.
Something longer, says Jinjing.
Never mind, says Gaius. I'm sure he is capable. Remember what he said as we were leaving?
No, says Terence. What did he say?
He said Your burger is ready, says Gaius.
But you didn't have a burger, says Terence.
No, says Gaius. The point is, he changed the determiner.
Jingjing looks confused.
He did not know he had changed the determiner. Is something wrong with his button?
Chen said, My burger is ready, says Gaius. And Jinjing said Your burger is ready.
So whose burger was it? asks Terence.
Gaius rolls his eyes. P. krameri answers.
Hers, says P. krameri. Not his. Therefore Jinjing has demonstrated linguistic intelligence.
Yay! says Terence. I knew I made a good swap.
Of course Mouldy could have said the same thing, and we wouldn't have been surprised, says Gaius.
Why? asks Terence.
Different expectations, says Gaius. My suggestion is, persevere with Jinjing.
Okay, says Terence. Jinjing, whose burger was it?
Was it? says Jinjing.
Yes, says Terence. It was. Your answer shows linguistic intelligence. Would you like your own seat on the plane?
Own seat on the plane, says Jinjing.
I suppose he can have his own seat, says Gaius. We have Mouldy's passport. But first, we should check the photo to see if the two look the same.
He takes out Mouldy's passport.
Holds it up next to Jinjing.
Same, says Terence.
No way, says P. krameri. Mouldy didn't have a button.
That's not in the photo, scoffs Terence.
Jinjing sneaks a sideways look at the passport photo.
He would love his own seat on the plane.
It should do, says Gaius. And if it doesn't it doesn't.
He's not worried, either way.
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Complex Sentiments
Hong Kong Airport.
One hour to stretch our legs, says Gaius. What would you like to look at?
I want to find Chen, says Terence.
Regretting the parrot swap? asks Gaius. It's too late now.
Mouldy needs a bicycle, says Terence. I forgot to tell Chen.
He'll tell her, says P. krameri.
Tell her, says Jinjing.
See, says Terence. Jinjing says tell her.
I have noticed something about your Jinjing, says Gaius.
What? asks Terence.
He does not have his own opinions, says Gaius.
He's a toy parrot, says P. krameri. He has toy opinions.
There she is! cries Terence.
It's Chen, with her mother. They are entering a café, Bite and Bite.
All right, says Gaius. We'll go to that café. I could do with a water.
They enter the cafe.
Chen is standing near the doorway, staring at two giant cut outs of a bear and a chicken.
Terence! says Chen. Guess what?
What? asks Terence.
We had to dismantle Mouldy, says Chen. They wouldn't let him through customs with feathers.
Tch! says Gaius I should have given you his passport.
Too late now, suckers! says Mouldy. I'm my own pebble again. And they bought me a bicycle.
A red one, says Chen. You can get them in any colour. He chose a red one.
Terence is miffed. Mouldy has a new bicycle, and he could have had any colour, and he chose red, Terence's favourite colour.
Does it have fluoroelastane wheels made out of o-rings? asks Terence.
Of course it does, says Mouldy.
Well, good luck, says Gaius. I'm just buying a water, then we'll be off. By the way, is there something wrong with Jinjing?
No, says Chen. Nothing is wrong with Jinjing.
He repeats what is said to him, says Gaius. But not the whole thing. Often only the last word or two.
Give him to me, says Chen. I'll alter his settings.
A clever child. She unzips the back of Jingijing and alters his settings.
Now try, says Chen.
Now try, says Jinjing.
Never mind, says Gaius. Terence will get used to handling Jinjing. I have no doubt that by the time we get back to Adelaide, Jinjing will be expressing more complex sentiments.
Yes, agrees Chen.
Her mother waves and points at the table.
Oh, my burger is ready. Goodbye Jinging, says Chen. Complex sentiments. Remember.
Your burger is ready, says Jinjing.
One hour to stretch our legs, says Gaius. What would you like to look at?
I want to find Chen, says Terence.
Regretting the parrot swap? asks Gaius. It's too late now.
Mouldy needs a bicycle, says Terence. I forgot to tell Chen.
He'll tell her, says P. krameri.
Tell her, says Jinjing.
See, says Terence. Jinjing says tell her.
I have noticed something about your Jinjing, says Gaius.
What? asks Terence.
He does not have his own opinions, says Gaius.
He's a toy parrot, says P. krameri. He has toy opinions.
There she is! cries Terence.
It's Chen, with her mother. They are entering a café, Bite and Bite.
All right, says Gaius. We'll go to that café. I could do with a water.
They enter the cafe.
Chen is standing near the doorway, staring at two giant cut outs of a bear and a chicken.
Terence! says Chen. Guess what?
What? asks Terence.
We had to dismantle Mouldy, says Chen. They wouldn't let him through customs with feathers.
Tch! says Gaius I should have given you his passport.
Too late now, suckers! says Mouldy. I'm my own pebble again. And they bought me a bicycle.
A red one, says Chen. You can get them in any colour. He chose a red one.
Terence is miffed. Mouldy has a new bicycle, and he could have had any colour, and he chose red, Terence's favourite colour.
Does it have fluoroelastane wheels made out of o-rings? asks Terence.
Of course it does, says Mouldy.
Well, good luck, says Gaius. I'm just buying a water, then we'll be off. By the way, is there something wrong with Jinjing?
No, says Chen. Nothing is wrong with Jinjing.
He repeats what is said to him, says Gaius. But not the whole thing. Often only the last word or two.
Give him to me, says Chen. I'll alter his settings.
A clever child. She unzips the back of Jingijing and alters his settings.
Now try, says Chen.
Now try, says Jinjing.
Never mind, says Gaius. Terence will get used to handling Jinjing. I have no doubt that by the time we get back to Adelaide, Jinjing will be expressing more complex sentiments.
Yes, agrees Chen.
Her mother waves and points at the table.
Oh, my burger is ready. Goodbye Jinging, says Chen. Complex sentiments. Remember.
Your burger is ready, says Jinjing.
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Come And Go Like Water
Which is the best parrot? asks Terence.
Best parrot, says Jinjing, in a parrot voice.
Mouldy, says Chen. Mouldy is the best parrot.
Want to swap parrots? asks Terence.
No, she doesn't, says Mouldy. You forget you don't own me.
Has Terence kidnapped you? asks Chen.
No, says Mouldy. I am independent. I have my own disguise and my own passport. Also my own bicycle. It's in the overhead locker.
Wow! says Chen. How do you ride it?
It's not his, says Terence.
Not his, says Jinjing.
Are YOU independent? asks Mouldy.
Independent, says Jinjing.
He isn't, says Chen. I would swap him for Mouldy, but Mouldy would have to agree, because he's independent.
What's on offer? asks Mouldy.
I live in Hong Kong with my parents, says Chen. It's very dangerous.
So I believe, says Gaius. Although let's hope the danger is temporary.
Mouldy likes danger, says Terence, And your parrot probably doesn't.
I'll answer for myself, says Mouldy. I do like danger. I learned that when I lived underwater.
I thought you learned acceptance, says P. krameri.
That too, says Mouldy. Anyway, what sort of danger?
The streets are full of policemen and umbrellas says Chen. The umbrellas have protesters under them. They come and go just like water.
That sounds like my cup of tea, says Mouldy, I will swap with Jinjing, if Jinjing is willing.
Jinjing is willing, says Jinjing.
Really?
It becomes increasingly obvious that Jingjing is faulty.
Best parrot, says Jinjing, in a parrot voice.
Mouldy, says Chen. Mouldy is the best parrot.
Want to swap parrots? asks Terence.
No, she doesn't, says Mouldy. You forget you don't own me.
Has Terence kidnapped you? asks Chen.
No, says Mouldy. I am independent. I have my own disguise and my own passport. Also my own bicycle. It's in the overhead locker.
Wow! says Chen. How do you ride it?
It's not his, says Terence.
Not his, says Jinjing.
Are YOU independent? asks Mouldy.
Independent, says Jinjing.
He isn't, says Chen. I would swap him for Mouldy, but Mouldy would have to agree, because he's independent.
What's on offer? asks Mouldy.
I live in Hong Kong with my parents, says Chen. It's very dangerous.
So I believe, says Gaius. Although let's hope the danger is temporary.
Mouldy likes danger, says Terence, And your parrot probably doesn't.
I'll answer for myself, says Mouldy. I do like danger. I learned that when I lived underwater.
I thought you learned acceptance, says P. krameri.
That too, says Mouldy. Anyway, what sort of danger?
The streets are full of policemen and umbrellas says Chen. The umbrellas have protesters under them. They come and go just like water.
That sounds like my cup of tea, says Mouldy, I will swap with Jinjing, if Jinjing is willing.
Jinjing is willing, says Jinjing.
Really?
It becomes increasingly obvious that Jingjing is faulty.
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
A Twist Of Brown
Talk! says Terence, poking Jinjing with his sprouting finger.
Press my button, stupid, thinks Jinjing.
Don't use that finger, says P. krameri.
Too late. Terence's sprout has snapped off.
Mind if I eat it? asks P. krameri. I didn't get breakfast.
Terence looks at the sprout which had been growing nicely.
Wah! says Terence.
What is it? asks Gaius. Dear me. Your sprout has snapped off.
Fix it, says Terence.
There's no way I can re-attach it, says Gaius. You may as well let your parakeet eat it.
That's like eating ME, says Terence.
No it isn't, says Gaius. It was a sunflower seed attached to your hand by means of fish glue. To be honest, I'm surprised that it sprouted.
I'm not, says Terence. It burrowed inside. It was taking my goodness.
Imagination, says Gaius. Let me see.
He leans over to take a better look at the snapped off sprouting finger.
No harm done, says Gaius. And who knows, it may sprout again.
So I can eat this bit? asks P. krameri.
He receives no answer, because Chen has returned with a small pot of yogurt, her breakfast.
Have you put anything more on my list? asks Chen.
NO! says Terence. I've had a disaster.
Chen looks at his sunflower seed finger.
The seed is still there. And a fat white stalk, snapped off at one centimetre.
Where's the rest of it? asks Chen.
He's eaten it, says Mouldy, pointing at P. krameri.
It was wilting, says P krameri, by way of explaining.
Can I have Jinjing back? asks Chen.
He can't talk, says Terence. You said he could.
That's because you have to press his button, says Chen.
She shows Terence the button hidden under a wing.
Say something to him and he'll answer, says Chen.
Will my sprout sprout again? asks Terence.
Wait. I wasn't ready, says Chen.
She presses the button.
Will my sprout sprout again? repeats Terence.
Sprout again, answers Jinjing.
Yay! says Terence.
He looks at his snapped off sprout, expecting to see it re-sprouting.
But the end is shrivelling and turning into a twist of brown fibre.
Press my button, stupid, thinks Jinjing.
Don't use that finger, says P. krameri.
Too late. Terence's sprout has snapped off.
Mind if I eat it? asks P. krameri. I didn't get breakfast.
Terence looks at the sprout which had been growing nicely.
Wah! says Terence.
What is it? asks Gaius. Dear me. Your sprout has snapped off.
Fix it, says Terence.
There's no way I can re-attach it, says Gaius. You may as well let your parakeet eat it.
That's like eating ME, says Terence.
No it isn't, says Gaius. It was a sunflower seed attached to your hand by means of fish glue. To be honest, I'm surprised that it sprouted.
I'm not, says Terence. It burrowed inside. It was taking my goodness.
Imagination, says Gaius. Let me see.
He leans over to take a better look at the snapped off sprouting finger.
No harm done, says Gaius. And who knows, it may sprout again.
So I can eat this bit? asks P. krameri.
He receives no answer, because Chen has returned with a small pot of yogurt, her breakfast.
Have you put anything more on my list? asks Chen.
NO! says Terence. I've had a disaster.
Chen looks at his sunflower seed finger.
The seed is still there. And a fat white stalk, snapped off at one centimetre.
Where's the rest of it? asks Chen.
He's eaten it, says Mouldy, pointing at P. krameri.
It was wilting, says P krameri, by way of explaining.
Can I have Jinjing back? asks Chen.
He can't talk, says Terence. You said he could.
That's because you have to press his button, says Chen.
She shows Terence the button hidden under a wing.
Say something to him and he'll answer, says Chen.
Will my sprout sprout again? asks Terence.
Wait. I wasn't ready, says Chen.
She presses the button.
Will my sprout sprout again? repeats Terence.
Sprout again, answers Jinjing.
Yay! says Terence.
He looks at his snapped off sprout, expecting to see it re-sprouting.
But the end is shrivelling and turning into a twist of brown fibre.
Monday, August 26, 2019
Mr Regretful
Gais is eating his breakfast. Scrambled eggs and a bun.
Chen is sitting in the same seat as Terence, busily writing.
Green body
Red and black neck ring
Red beak
Sad
Is that me? asks P. krameri.
Yes, says Chen. Why are you sad?
Not so much sad, says P. krameri. Regretful.
Chen crosses out sad, and writes regretful.
But why? asks Chen. Don't you like flying?
I hardly notice, says P. krameri.
Do you want to go home?
No he DOESN'T, says Terence. He's got a new life coming.
New life coming, says P. krameri. But lacking tomatoes.
Chen writes tomatoes, then crosses it out.
Exactly, says P. krameri.
Now for the other one, says Chen. Where is it?
Mouldy, says Terence. He's here somewhere.
Mouldy pops out from under the blanket.
Oo! says Chen. This one is cuter!
Excuse me, says Mouldy. Cuter than what?
Mr Regretful, says Chen.
Write him down, says Terence. Wait. You need a new column.
I know, says Chen.
She draws up a new column for Mouldy.
It's thin.
I'll write short things, says Chen.
She examines Mouldy.
Green feathers
Red nails
Fish-smelly
Bare underneath.
Hey! says Mouldy. How do you know I'm bare underneath?
You sit flat, says Chen.
Mouldy is impressed with her observational powers.
Perhaps you should go back to your mother now, says Gaius. Your breakfast will be congealing.
Okay, says Chen. I'll leave my paper with Terence. He can fill in anything else he can think of.
She picks up her toy parrot.
Leave it, says Terence.
She puts the toy parrot down.
She heads up the aisle to eat her breakfast.
Terence now has the paper, with three columns filled in.
I bet you can't write, says P. krameri.
No, I can't READ, says Terence. What does the first column say?
It's about the toy parrot, says P.krameri. It's name is Jinjing.
What did she write about it? asks Terence.
Soft
Red
Green
Talks, says P krameri.
Talks, says Terence. That's impossible.
Maybe she imagines it, says Mouldy.
Jinjing is pained to hear this. But no way is he going to explain to these people that to hear him speak they must press a button.
Chen is sitting in the same seat as Terence, busily writing.
Green body
Red and black neck ring
Red beak
Sad
Is that me? asks P. krameri.
Yes, says Chen. Why are you sad?
Not so much sad, says P. krameri. Regretful.
Chen crosses out sad, and writes regretful.
But why? asks Chen. Don't you like flying?
I hardly notice, says P. krameri.
Do you want to go home?
No he DOESN'T, says Terence. He's got a new life coming.
New life coming, says P. krameri. But lacking tomatoes.
Chen writes tomatoes, then crosses it out.
Exactly, says P. krameri.
Now for the other one, says Chen. Where is it?
Mouldy, says Terence. He's here somewhere.
Mouldy pops out from under the blanket.
Oo! says Chen. This one is cuter!
Excuse me, says Mouldy. Cuter than what?
Mr Regretful, says Chen.
Write him down, says Terence. Wait. You need a new column.
I know, says Chen.
She draws up a new column for Mouldy.
It's thin.
I'll write short things, says Chen.
She examines Mouldy.
Green feathers
Red nails
Fish-smelly
Bare underneath.
Hey! says Mouldy. How do you know I'm bare underneath?
You sit flat, says Chen.
Mouldy is impressed with her observational powers.
Perhaps you should go back to your mother now, says Gaius. Your breakfast will be congealing.
Okay, says Chen. I'll leave my paper with Terence. He can fill in anything else he can think of.
She picks up her toy parrot.
Leave it, says Terence.
She puts the toy parrot down.
She heads up the aisle to eat her breakfast.
Terence now has the paper, with three columns filled in.
I bet you can't write, says P. krameri.
No, I can't READ, says Terence. What does the first column say?
It's about the toy parrot, says P.krameri. It's name is Jinjing.
What did she write about it? asks Terence.
Soft
Red
Green
Talks, says P krameri.
Talks, says Terence. That's impossible.
Maybe she imagines it, says Mouldy.
Jinjing is pained to hear this. But no way is he going to explain to these people that to hear him speak they must press a button.
Sunday, August 25, 2019
Would He Be In Pieces?
The cabin lights are turned on. Snooze time is over.
Gaius is surprised at how well he has slept.
Terence is under the blanket beside him.
How good he has been.
But wait, that is not Terence. It's his parakeet, P. krameri.
Where is Terence? asks Gaius.
No reply.
Gaius pokes P. krameri.
Squawk! P. krameri is startled awake.
Where is Terence?
I don't know, says P. krameri. Is it breakfast time yet?
Patience, says Gaius. When did you last see him?
I had a dream, says P krameri. He was in it.
That is not helpful, says Gaius.
I dreamed I was back in the Jardin des Plantes, says P. krameri. I was raiding the tomatoes. Isidore was flapping his hands, shouting Away Away!
And where was Terence? asks Gaius.
Luring me to a table, says P krameri. The overall tone of my dream was regretful.
Regretful? says Gaius. I will deal with that later. Just now I need to find Terence.
He went that way, says Mouldy.
Thank you, Mouldy, says Gaius. I should have asked you in the first place.
He stands up and heads down the aisle in the direction that Mouldy was pointing.
Four rows down, he spots Terence.
Terence has squeezed into a seat with a very small girl.
She has a toy parrot.
Ah, there you are, Terence! says Gaius.
Terence looks down.
Yes, here he is, it hardly needs saying.
You shouldn't move seats, says Gaius. What if we crashed?
Huh? says Terence.
No one would know who you were, says Gaius. They might think you were this little girl for instance.
Would he be in pieces? asks the very small girl.
Quite possibly, says Gaius. But I haven't come here to alarm you. Breakfast is coming.
I'm busy, says Terence. We both have parrots. We're swapping notes.
Very commendable, says Gaius. What differences have you noted?
The little girl's mother waves a piece of paper at Gaius.
All these, says the mother. Chen is so clever.
Like me, says Terence.
Would Chen like to see Terence's parrot? asks Gaius. It's a real parrot with a parrot passport. And then there is Mouldy. He is a pebble travelling on a parrot passport, I'm sure your daughter would be interested in the comparison.
Would you like to, Chen? asks her mother.
O yes, ma, says Chen.
She picks up her toy parrot and follows Gaius and Terence back to their seats.
Let's hope Chen doesn't miss out on breakfast.
Gaius is surprised at how well he has slept.
Terence is under the blanket beside him.
How good he has been.
But wait, that is not Terence. It's his parakeet, P. krameri.
Where is Terence? asks Gaius.
No reply.
Gaius pokes P. krameri.
Squawk! P. krameri is startled awake.
Where is Terence?
I don't know, says P. krameri. Is it breakfast time yet?
Patience, says Gaius. When did you last see him?
I had a dream, says P krameri. He was in it.
That is not helpful, says Gaius.
I dreamed I was back in the Jardin des Plantes, says P. krameri. I was raiding the tomatoes. Isidore was flapping his hands, shouting Away Away!
And where was Terence? asks Gaius.
Luring me to a table, says P krameri. The overall tone of my dream was regretful.
Regretful? says Gaius. I will deal with that later. Just now I need to find Terence.
He went that way, says Mouldy.
Thank you, Mouldy, says Gaius. I should have asked you in the first place.
He stands up and heads down the aisle in the direction that Mouldy was pointing.
Four rows down, he spots Terence.
Terence has squeezed into a seat with a very small girl.
She has a toy parrot.
Ah, there you are, Terence! says Gaius.
Terence looks down.
Yes, here he is, it hardly needs saying.
You shouldn't move seats, says Gaius. What if we crashed?
Huh? says Terence.
No one would know who you were, says Gaius. They might think you were this little girl for instance.
Would he be in pieces? asks the very small girl.
Quite possibly, says Gaius. But I haven't come here to alarm you. Breakfast is coming.
I'm busy, says Terence. We both have parrots. We're swapping notes.
Very commendable, says Gaius. What differences have you noted?
The little girl's mother waves a piece of paper at Gaius.
All these, says the mother. Chen is so clever.
Like me, says Terence.
Would Chen like to see Terence's parrot? asks Gaius. It's a real parrot with a parrot passport. And then there is Mouldy. He is a pebble travelling on a parrot passport, I'm sure your daughter would be interested in the comparison.
Would you like to, Chen? asks her mother.
O yes, ma, says Chen.
She picks up her toy parrot and follows Gaius and Terence back to their seats.
Let's hope Chen doesn't miss out on breakfast.
Saturday, August 24, 2019
A Torch For Five Minutes
Three hours of the eleven hours and forty five minutes have passed.
The cabin lights have been dimmed, to encourage snoozing.
Gaius folds up his notes, and unfolds a thin blanket.
Have I got a blanket? asks Terence.
Doubtless, says Gaius. Yes, here it is.
Have I got a torch? asks Terence.
What do you need a torch for? asks Gaius.
To see, under the blanket, says Terence.
Don't put it over your head, says Gaius.
But I'm hatching Mouldy, says Terence.
What! The game has progressed this far?
It's a game, says P. krameri. Mouldy is being an egg.
As long as he's an egg quietly, says Gaius. It's snooze time.
Terence pulls the blanket over his head, and over Mouldy and over P. krameri.
Can I get you anything? asks a flight attendant.
A torch, says Terence.
You can borrow my torch for five minutes, says the flight attendant.
Isn't she lovely.
Now Terence has a torch under the blanket. He shines it on Mouldy to see if he's hatching.
He won't hatch, says P. krameri. He's too proud.
I'm not, mumbles Mouldy. I just don't know how to.
You come out, says P krameri. Even I know that.
Turn OVER, says Terence. Then you won't mumble. And you'll look like a parrot, and the egg will be gone.
It won't be gone, says Mouldy. It'll be under me. And I won't be able to forget it.
I thought you learned acceptance when you lived with the thrombolites, says P. krameri.
Sometimes it helps to be reminded.
Mouldy turns over. His green feathers are all stuck to his face, and his beak is askew, but he does feel more normal.
Five minutes is up, says the flight attendant, returning for her torch, after only four minutes.
But you can't blame her for that.
The cabin lights have been dimmed, to encourage snoozing.
Gaius folds up his notes, and unfolds a thin blanket.
Have I got a blanket? asks Terence.
Doubtless, says Gaius. Yes, here it is.
Have I got a torch? asks Terence.
What do you need a torch for? asks Gaius.
To see, under the blanket, says Terence.
Don't put it over your head, says Gaius.
But I'm hatching Mouldy, says Terence.
What! The game has progressed this far?
It's a game, says P. krameri. Mouldy is being an egg.
As long as he's an egg quietly, says Gaius. It's snooze time.
Terence pulls the blanket over his head, and over Mouldy and over P. krameri.
Can I get you anything? asks a flight attendant.
A torch, says Terence.
You can borrow my torch for five minutes, says the flight attendant.
Isn't she lovely.
Now Terence has a torch under the blanket. He shines it on Mouldy to see if he's hatching.
He won't hatch, says P. krameri. He's too proud.
I'm not, mumbles Mouldy. I just don't know how to.
You come out, says P krameri. Even I know that.
Turn OVER, says Terence. Then you won't mumble. And you'll look like a parrot, and the egg will be gone.
It won't be gone, says Mouldy. It'll be under me. And I won't be able to forget it.
I thought you learned acceptance when you lived with the thrombolites, says P. krameri.
Sometimes it helps to be reminded.
Mouldy turns over. His green feathers are all stuck to his face, and his beak is askew, but he does feel more normal.
Five minutes is up, says the flight attendant, returning for her torch, after only four minutes.
But you can't blame her for that.
Friday, August 23, 2019
The Rules Of Cannot But Be
On the Cathay Pacific flight from Paris to Hong Kong:
Now, says Gaius. This will be a long flight. Settle in.
Terence has noticed that there is no seat for Mouldy.
Never mind, says Gaius. I suppose they thought P. krameri would be in a cage.
So it's MY seat, says Mouldy.
Share it, says Gaius. It's wide enough for a parakeet and a pebble.
Yes, says Terence. That means you can both sit next to me and we can play cannot but be.
What's this? says Gaius.
A game you invented, says Terence. But you're not playing.
I don't recall inventing a game called cannot but be, says Gaius.
It was science, says Terence. You said of course it cannot but be.
I did? says Gaius. Very well, play cannot but be while I bone up on the forty spotted pardalote.
As a matter of interest, how many spots does it have ? asks P. krameri.
I'll let you know, says Gaius. It may be forty, but equally, forty may just be an average.
Okay, says Terence. Let's play!
He explains the rules of cannot but be to P. krameri and Mouldy.
Will they get it?
Let's see.
What would it be if there were two beetles? says Terence.
Don't know, says Mouldy. Two beetles?
Two bees, says Terence.
Mouldy looks puzzled.
P. krameri thinks he gets it.
Cannot but bee! says P. krameri.
Bees, says Terence. But you were close.
Mouldy snorts through his green stuck on feathers.
What? asks Terence.
Let's play something else, says Mouldy.
Okay, says Terence. I know. You be the egg.
Egg? says P. krameri. I hope this isn't what I'm thinking.
You're the bird, he's the egg, says Terence. But he has to turn over.
No way, says Mouldy. What about my false beak?
If you don't, you won't look like an egg, says Terence.
Gaius is finding it hard to concentrate on the characteristics of the forty spotted pardalote.
Fortunately, dinner is about to be served.
Already the delightful aroma of fried fish with sweetcorn sauce on jasmine rice is floating up the aisle towards him.
Now, says Gaius. This will be a long flight. Settle in.
Terence has noticed that there is no seat for Mouldy.
Never mind, says Gaius. I suppose they thought P. krameri would be in a cage.
So it's MY seat, says Mouldy.
Share it, says Gaius. It's wide enough for a parakeet and a pebble.
Yes, says Terence. That means you can both sit next to me and we can play cannot but be.
What's this? says Gaius.
A game you invented, says Terence. But you're not playing.
I don't recall inventing a game called cannot but be, says Gaius.
It was science, says Terence. You said of course it cannot but be.
I did? says Gaius. Very well, play cannot but be while I bone up on the forty spotted pardalote.
As a matter of interest, how many spots does it have ? asks P. krameri.
I'll let you know, says Gaius. It may be forty, but equally, forty may just be an average.
Okay, says Terence. Let's play!
He explains the rules of cannot but be to P. krameri and Mouldy.
Will they get it?
Let's see.
What would it be if there were two beetles? says Terence.
Don't know, says Mouldy. Two beetles?
Two bees, says Terence.
Mouldy looks puzzled.
P. krameri thinks he gets it.
Cannot but bee! says P. krameri.
Bees, says Terence. But you were close.
Mouldy snorts through his green stuck on feathers.
What? asks Terence.
Let's play something else, says Mouldy.
Okay, says Terence. I know. You be the egg.
Egg? says P. krameri. I hope this isn't what I'm thinking.
You're the bird, he's the egg, says Terence. But he has to turn over.
No way, says Mouldy. What about my false beak?
If you don't, you won't look like an egg, says Terence.
Gaius is finding it hard to concentrate on the characteristics of the forty spotted pardalote.
Fortunately, dinner is about to be served.
Already the delightful aroma of fried fish with sweetcorn sauce on jasmine rice is floating up the aisle towards him.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
Too Precious!
Next morning.
Farewell, my friend, says Isidore. Safe journey.
Thank you, says Gaius. Say goodbye, Terence.
Goodbye, says Terence. You made the best poem.
Mouldy scowls, behind his glued on green feathers.
I shall continue to work on it, says Isidore. I wasn't happy with the maths.
Nor was I, mutters Mouldy.
WHAT? says Terence.
Nothing, says Mouldy.
Mouldy didn't like it, says P. krameri. Because he was last and he ended up zero.
There you see, says Isidore. Mouldy had the impression that he ended up zero. Which is not the case.
Never mind, says Gaius. We must hurry to the station, so we don't miss our train.
....
On the train.
Are we there yet? asks Terence.
Where yet? says Gaius.
There yet, says Terence.
We're on the train to Charles de Gaulle Airport, says Gaius. When we get there, we'll get off the train, Then you will know we are there, as will your parakeet, and Mouldy.
That was a good answer, says Terence.
P. krameri also thinks it was a good answer.
But Mouldy is grappling with the mathematics of zero, and doesn't.
....
At Charles de Gaulle Airport.
On time, says Gaius, looking at the departure board.
Can we go to a café? asks Terence.
No, says Gaius. We'll get free food on board.
Yay! says Terence. Free food for my parrot and my best friend Mouldy.
Best friend? says Mouldy. What about him?
He's my best parrot, says Terence. And you've both got seats, because you're intimate objects.
Animate objects, says Gaius. That reminds me, have I remembered their passports?
He checks his pockets. He has.
They proceed though security.
Aerosols shaving cream laptops, says the security officer
None of those, says Gaius.
Go through, says the officer.
Gaius goes through the scanning gate, followed by Terence.
What's this? asks another officer, pointing at Terence's finger.
It used to be a finger, says Terence. Then it broke off. Then I swapped claws with Baby BB. Then his claw broke off. Then Gaius glued a seed on with fish glue. Then it started sprouting.
Luckily French people love cute children.
Which Terence is not. But sometimes he gives that impression.
The guard pats him through.
With his cute little parakeet, and his pet rock with green feathers stuck on, and red false nails for a beak.
C'est trop précieux!
Farewell, my friend, says Isidore. Safe journey.
Thank you, says Gaius. Say goodbye, Terence.
Goodbye, says Terence. You made the best poem.
Mouldy scowls, behind his glued on green feathers.
I shall continue to work on it, says Isidore. I wasn't happy with the maths.
Nor was I, mutters Mouldy.
WHAT? says Terence.
Nothing, says Mouldy.
Mouldy didn't like it, says P. krameri. Because he was last and he ended up zero.
There you see, says Isidore. Mouldy had the impression that he ended up zero. Which is not the case.
Never mind, says Gaius. We must hurry to the station, so we don't miss our train.
....
On the train.
Are we there yet? asks Terence.
Where yet? says Gaius.
There yet, says Terence.
We're on the train to Charles de Gaulle Airport, says Gaius. When we get there, we'll get off the train, Then you will know we are there, as will your parakeet, and Mouldy.
That was a good answer, says Terence.
P. krameri also thinks it was a good answer.
But Mouldy is grappling with the mathematics of zero, and doesn't.
....
At Charles de Gaulle Airport.
On time, says Gaius, looking at the departure board.
Can we go to a café? asks Terence.
No, says Gaius. We'll get free food on board.
Yay! says Terence. Free food for my parrot and my best friend Mouldy.
Best friend? says Mouldy. What about him?
He's my best parrot, says Terence. And you've both got seats, because you're intimate objects.
Animate objects, says Gaius. That reminds me, have I remembered their passports?
He checks his pockets. He has.
They proceed though security.
Aerosols shaving cream laptops, says the security officer
None of those, says Gaius.
Go through, says the officer.
Gaius goes through the scanning gate, followed by Terence.
What's this? asks another officer, pointing at Terence's finger.
It used to be a finger, says Terence. Then it broke off. Then I swapped claws with Baby BB. Then his claw broke off. Then Gaius glued a seed on with fish glue. Then it started sprouting.
Luckily French people love cute children.
Which Terence is not. But sometimes he gives that impression.
The guard pats him through.
With his cute little parakeet, and his pet rock with green feathers stuck on, and red false nails for a beak.
C'est trop précieux!
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
The Mathematics of Departure
Gaius has been making phone calls.
He has not heard the poems.
Your turn, says Terence.
To do what? asks Gaius.
Make a poem, says Terence.
No time, says Gaius. We depart for Adelaide tomorrow.
That's tomorrow, says Terence. WE all made one.
That's more Arthur's field, says Gaius. I have good news by the way. Arthur may join us in Tasmania.
Don't you know how to do a poem? persists Terence.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, says Gaius. Although I disagree with the sentiments.
P. krameri, Mouldy and Terence look at one another.
If they could raise their eyebrows they would.
Why make a poem you disagree with?
Isidore comes in, with two documents.
Parrot passports, says Isidore. No trouble at all.
Excellent, says Gaius. We depart tomorrow for Adelaide, sort out a few things, then off to Tasmania to help save the orange bellied parrot and the forty spotted pardalote from extinction.
I envy you, say Isidore.
Why not come with us? says Gaius.
Yes, says P. krameri. Why not come with us?
Perhaps you are unaware how pleased I will be to be rid of you, says Isidore.
Indeed, P. krameri was unaware of the extent of his feelings.
You attacked my tomatoes, says Isidore.
A parakeet has to eat, says P. krameri.
You will find no tomatoes in my vicinity, says Gaius. Poisonous fruits that they are.
Squawk! says P. krameri.
Nonsense, says Isidore. They are perfectly edible.
Your turn to make up a poem, says Terence.
Me? says Isidore. My hobby is mathematics.
Gaius made a rubbish one, says Terence. Want to hear it?
No, he doesn't, says Gaius.
I do, says Isidore, smiling.
But Gaius won't repeat it. Too embarrassing. And not his own work.
Dulky-dorum-morum-bolorum, says Terence.
Luckily, Isidore doesn't make the connection.
All right, says Isidore. I'll have a go, and since you're all leaving tomorrow, you'll all be in it.
He jots down a few notes, because of the expected complexity.
The Mathematics of Departure (begins Isidore)
From the set of all visitors [ 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Remove the subset of all humans [ 1.]
Gaius is gone
[2.3.4.]
From the set of all visitors [2.3.4.]
Remove the subset of all cement infants [2.]
Terence is gone
[3.4.]
From the set of all visitors [3.4.]
Remove the subset of all parakeets [3.]
P. kameri is gone
[4.]
From the set of all visitors [4.]
Remove the subset of all pebbles [4.]
Mouldy is gone.
[0]
I say, says Gaius. Mathematical poetry, That's impressive.
Not really, says Isidore. I had to sacrifice the purity of the mathematics for the general poetic structure.
Yes, well done, says Gaius.
He has not heard the poems.
Your turn, says Terence.
To do what? asks Gaius.
Make a poem, says Terence.
No time, says Gaius. We depart for Adelaide tomorrow.
That's tomorrow, says Terence. WE all made one.
That's more Arthur's field, says Gaius. I have good news by the way. Arthur may join us in Tasmania.
Don't you know how to do a poem? persists Terence.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, says Gaius. Although I disagree with the sentiments.
P. krameri, Mouldy and Terence look at one another.
If they could raise their eyebrows they would.
Why make a poem you disagree with?
Isidore comes in, with two documents.
Parrot passports, says Isidore. No trouble at all.
Excellent, says Gaius. We depart tomorrow for Adelaide, sort out a few things, then off to Tasmania to help save the orange bellied parrot and the forty spotted pardalote from extinction.
I envy you, say Isidore.
Why not come with us? says Gaius.
Yes, says P. krameri. Why not come with us?
Perhaps you are unaware how pleased I will be to be rid of you, says Isidore.
Indeed, P. krameri was unaware of the extent of his feelings.
You attacked my tomatoes, says Isidore.
A parakeet has to eat, says P. krameri.
You will find no tomatoes in my vicinity, says Gaius. Poisonous fruits that they are.
Squawk! says P. krameri.
Nonsense, says Isidore. They are perfectly edible.
Your turn to make up a poem, says Terence.
Me? says Isidore. My hobby is mathematics.
Gaius made a rubbish one, says Terence. Want to hear it?
No, he doesn't, says Gaius.
I do, says Isidore, smiling.
But Gaius won't repeat it. Too embarrassing. And not his own work.
Dulky-dorum-morum-bolorum, says Terence.
Luckily, Isidore doesn't make the connection.
All right, says Isidore. I'll have a go, and since you're all leaving tomorrow, you'll all be in it.
He jots down a few notes, because of the expected complexity.
The Mathematics of Departure (begins Isidore)
From the set of all visitors [ 1. 2. 3. 4.]
Remove the subset of all humans [ 1.]
Gaius is gone
[2.3.4.]
From the set of all visitors [2.3.4.]
Remove the subset of all cement infants [2.]
Terence is gone
[3.4.]
From the set of all visitors [3.4.]
Remove the subset of all parakeets [3.]
P. kameri is gone
[4.]
From the set of all visitors [4.]
Remove the subset of all pebbles [4.]
Mouldy is gone.
[0]
I say, says Gaius. Mathematical poetry, That's impressive.
Not really, says Isidore. I had to sacrifice the purity of the mathematics for the general poetic structure.
Yes, well done, says Gaius.
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Says The Pretty
Make a poem for Terence, says P. krameri.
Okay, says Mouldy. I never made one before. How do you start off?
Depends, says P. krameri. Do you want it funny or sad? Do you want to pay him back for the knees thing?
Yes, says Mouldy. All of that.
I'm waiting, says Terence.
Mouldy thinks quickly.
Funny, sad and the knees thing.
Can't get started? asks P. krameri. Just be natural.
Another thing! Be natural.
He is always natural. But wait! Not at the moment he isn't.
Inspiration strikes him.
He speaks, through the red beak of false nails.
Let me kiss you, says the Mouldy
No, says the Pretty
Why not? asks the Mouldy
I fear getting pincered, says the Pretty
And you haven't brushed your teeth.
The Mouldy is dejected
Terence comes by.
Perhaps I'll kiss him, says the Pretty.
She tries.
Terence goes weak at the knees.
I WOULDN'T! says Terence.
Payback, says Mouldy. How did you like it otherwise?
I like the Pretty, says P. krameri.
Me too, says Terence. I'd let her kiss me.
She's my Pretty, says Mouldy. If I say so, she will never.
What does she look like? asks Terence.
Like.... Lavender, says Mouldy.
Huh, says Terence.
But with a body, and lips, adds Mouldy.
Even that's not much to go on.
Okay, says Mouldy. I never made one before. How do you start off?
Depends, says P. krameri. Do you want it funny or sad? Do you want to pay him back for the knees thing?
Yes, says Mouldy. All of that.
I'm waiting, says Terence.
Mouldy thinks quickly.
Funny, sad and the knees thing.
Can't get started? asks P. krameri. Just be natural.
Another thing! Be natural.
He is always natural. But wait! Not at the moment he isn't.
Inspiration strikes him.
He speaks, through the red beak of false nails.
Let me kiss you, says the Mouldy
No, says the Pretty
Why not? asks the Mouldy
I fear getting pincered, says the Pretty
And you haven't brushed your teeth.
The Mouldy is dejected
Terence comes by.
Perhaps I'll kiss him, says the Pretty.
She tries.
Terence goes weak at the knees.
I WOULDN'T! says Terence.
Payback, says Mouldy. How did you like it otherwise?
I like the Pretty, says P. krameri.
Me too, says Terence. I'd let her kiss me.
She's my Pretty, says Mouldy. If I say so, she will never.
What does she look like? asks Terence.
Like.... Lavender, says Mouldy.
Huh, says Terence.
But with a body, and lips, adds Mouldy.
Even that's not much to go on.
Thursday, August 15, 2019
My Original Mouth
How long do I have to wear this fake beak? asks Mouldy.
Until we get back to Australia, says Gaius.
You shouldn't have glued it on, says Mouldy. I could have had the photo and then taken the beak off until I had to show the passport.
Does it bother you? asks Gaius.
Yes, says Mouldy. What if I want to use my original mouth?
Yes, says Terence. He might want to kiss someone
More to the point, I might want to brush my teeth, says Mouldy.
Before you kiss someone, says Terence.
I doubt if Mouldy will be wanting to kiss anyone before we arrive at the airport, says Gaius. He will just have to put up with the beak.
Yes, you will, Mouldy, says Terence. I have to put up with mine.
You don't have one, says Mouldy.
My claw, says Terence. It needs putting up with.
He raises his sunflower seed claw which Gaius recently glued on with fish glue.
YAY! It's sprouting!
Look at THIS! cries Terence.
Well, says Gaius. I didn't expect that!
Doesn't bode well, says Isidore.
No, agrees Gaius.
But they say nothing further about what a sprouting claw means for the future.
No need to alarm Terence.
I"ll go and see about the parrot passports, says Isidore.
And I must make a few phone calls, says Gaius.
Terence and Mouldy look at one another.
Cheer me up, says Mouldy.
Okay, says Terence. I'll make up a song about your beak.
But that's what's depressing me, says Mouldy.
Shut up and listen, says Terence.
A long silence and then......
La la la three good things
About Mouldy's beak
His voice is longer
His smell is stronger.
If you kiss him
His knees will go weak.
That's two good things, says Mouldy.
Three, says Terence.
Knees will go weak, says Mouldy. That's not a good thing.
I never said it was, says Terence.
You just did, says Mouldy.
That was the SONG, says Terence.
Until we get back to Australia, says Gaius.
You shouldn't have glued it on, says Mouldy. I could have had the photo and then taken the beak off until I had to show the passport.
Does it bother you? asks Gaius.
Yes, says Mouldy. What if I want to use my original mouth?
Yes, says Terence. He might want to kiss someone
More to the point, I might want to brush my teeth, says Mouldy.
Before you kiss someone, says Terence.
I doubt if Mouldy will be wanting to kiss anyone before we arrive at the airport, says Gaius. He will just have to put up with the beak.
Yes, you will, Mouldy, says Terence. I have to put up with mine.
You don't have one, says Mouldy.
My claw, says Terence. It needs putting up with.
He raises his sunflower seed claw which Gaius recently glued on with fish glue.
YAY! It's sprouting!
Look at THIS! cries Terence.
Well, says Gaius. I didn't expect that!
Doesn't bode well, says Isidore.
No, agrees Gaius.
But they say nothing further about what a sprouting claw means for the future.
No need to alarm Terence.
I"ll go and see about the parrot passports, says Isidore.
And I must make a few phone calls, says Gaius.
Terence and Mouldy look at one another.
Cheer me up, says Mouldy.
Okay, says Terence. I'll make up a song about your beak.
But that's what's depressing me, says Mouldy.
Shut up and listen, says Terence.
A long silence and then......
La la la three good things
About Mouldy's beak
His voice is longer
His smell is stronger.
If you kiss him
His knees will go weak.
That's two good things, says Mouldy.
Three, says Terence.
Knees will go weak, says Mouldy. That's not a good thing.
I never said it was, says Terence.
You just did, says Mouldy.
That was the SONG, says Terence.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Mouldy Makeover
I'll give it a go, says Mouldy. What sort of parrot should I look like.
Like him, says Terence, pointing at P. krameri.
Next you're going to be asking me for feathers, says P. krameri.
Correct, says Terence. We need green, black and red ones. Mainly green.
My green ones are my best ones, says P. krameri. How many?
Fifty, says Terence.
No way, says P. krameri.
You will only need one, says Gaius. Mouldy is small, and he won't need any at the back.
Hey! says Mouldy. None at the back?
Ha ha, laughs P. krameri.
It's not funny, says Terence. Give me a feather.
Keep your hair on, says P. krameri.
He twists around and pecks out a feather. By no means his best one.
Wonderful, says Gaius. Isidore, do you have any scissors?
Would a professor of zoology be without scissors? Of course not.
Isidore fetches his scissors which are engraved with his name.
Nice scissors, says Gauis, snipping the feather into tiny pieces.
Gift of the Museum, says Isidore. For long service.
Very practical, says Gaius. Now, come here Mouldy. We won't glue them on yet.
Why? asks Terence.
We may need to rearrange them, says Gaius.
Mouldy keeps still while Gaius and Isidore try the short lengths in various positions.
I was supposed to be doing it, says Terence.
Let them, says P. krameri. They know what they're doing.
A-choo! says Mouldy. Keep them away from my NOSE!
What does everyone think? asks Gaius. Does he look like a parrot?
A parrot with no beak, says Terence.
I have just the thing, says Isidore.
He goes into the bathroom and comes back with two bright red false nails.
Useful for experiments in imprinting, he says, by way of an explanation for having false nails in his bathroom.
Of course, says Gaius. None of us thought otherwise. Right! A mirror!
Isidore fetches a mirror.
Oo! says Mouldy. I look like a parrot!
From the front, says Terence.
I'll just glue them on now, says Gaius.
He takes out his fish glue, and deftly glues on the feathers and the bright red false nails.
Now for a photo, says Isidore. Then I can get on with obtaining the two parrot passports.
Click! Click!
Two parrot photos.
P. krameri looks somewhat superior, in his.
Like him, says Terence, pointing at P. krameri.
Next you're going to be asking me for feathers, says P. krameri.
Correct, says Terence. We need green, black and red ones. Mainly green.
My green ones are my best ones, says P. krameri. How many?
Fifty, says Terence.
No way, says P. krameri.
You will only need one, says Gaius. Mouldy is small, and he won't need any at the back.
Hey! says Mouldy. None at the back?
Ha ha, laughs P. krameri.
It's not funny, says Terence. Give me a feather.
Keep your hair on, says P. krameri.
He twists around and pecks out a feather. By no means his best one.
Wonderful, says Gaius. Isidore, do you have any scissors?
Would a professor of zoology be without scissors? Of course not.
Isidore fetches his scissors which are engraved with his name.
Nice scissors, says Gauis, snipping the feather into tiny pieces.
Gift of the Museum, says Isidore. For long service.
Very practical, says Gaius. Now, come here Mouldy. We won't glue them on yet.
Why? asks Terence.
We may need to rearrange them, says Gaius.
Mouldy keeps still while Gaius and Isidore try the short lengths in various positions.
I was supposed to be doing it, says Terence.
Let them, says P. krameri. They know what they're doing.
A-choo! says Mouldy. Keep them away from my NOSE!
What does everyone think? asks Gaius. Does he look like a parrot?
A parrot with no beak, says Terence.
I have just the thing, says Isidore.
He goes into the bathroom and comes back with two bright red false nails.
Useful for experiments in imprinting, he says, by way of an explanation for having false nails in his bathroom.
Of course, says Gaius. None of us thought otherwise. Right! A mirror!
Isidore fetches a mirror.
Oo! says Mouldy. I look like a parrot!
From the front, says Terence.
I'll just glue them on now, says Gaius.
He takes out his fish glue, and deftly glues on the feathers and the bright red false nails.
Now for a photo, says Isidore. Then I can get on with obtaining the two parrot passports.
Click! Click!
Two parrot photos.
P. krameri looks somewhat superior, in his.
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Two Parrot Passports
Well, Mouldy, says Gaius. We thought we had lost you.
I was under the table, says Mouldy. In the café. Amongst all the feet.
Not mine, says Terence.
I could see yours above me, says Mouldy. Then they went off.
That was when I went to the railing, to get a new parrot, says Terence.
Me, says P. krameri.
Were you scared? asks Terence.
Of course not, says Mouldy. I've been left behind before. Remember Lake Clifton?
And we came back for you, says Terence. You were in the water.
Learning acceptance, says Mouldy.
Acceptance! You don't have much get up and go, says P krameri.
At that stage I didn't have a bicycle, says Mouldy.
You still don't, says Terence. It's not yours.
Biscuits? says Isidore.
Yes please, says Gaius.
Isidore goes into the kitchen for biscuits.
I miss my friends, says Mouldy. When are we going back to Australia?
We must talk about that, says Gaius. There might be a problem with P. krameri.
What's this? A problem? asks Isidore coming back with a plate of almond macarons.
We could get him a parrot passport, says Gaius. But that might take some time.
I can organise a parrot passport, says Isidore. One of the advantages of working at the Museum of Natural History.
He can't wait to get rid of me, says P. krameri.
Not at all, says Isidore, offering him a biscuit.
P. krameri takes the biscuit.
Mouldy wants one, says Terence.
Mouldy is offered a biscuit.
Not a BISCUIT! says Terence. A parrot passport.
The biscuits are withdrawn.
Almond macarons. Mouldy would have liked one.
Mouldy travels as an inanimate object, says Gaius. As such, he does not need a passport.
What are the advantages of travelling as an animate object? asks Mouldy.
You get your own seat, says Terence.
I could get two parrot passports, says Isidore. If that would be useful.
Might be more trouble than it's worth, says Gaius. We'd need to make Mouldy look like a parrot.
I'll do it! cries Terence.
Mouldy wonders if it is worth letting Terence make him look like a parrot, to get his own seat.
I was under the table, says Mouldy. In the café. Amongst all the feet.
Not mine, says Terence.
I could see yours above me, says Mouldy. Then they went off.
That was when I went to the railing, to get a new parrot, says Terence.
Me, says P. krameri.
Were you scared? asks Terence.
Of course not, says Mouldy. I've been left behind before. Remember Lake Clifton?
And we came back for you, says Terence. You were in the water.
Learning acceptance, says Mouldy.
Acceptance! You don't have much get up and go, says P krameri.
At that stage I didn't have a bicycle, says Mouldy.
You still don't, says Terence. It's not yours.
Biscuits? says Isidore.
Yes please, says Gaius.
Isidore goes into the kitchen for biscuits.
I miss my friends, says Mouldy. When are we going back to Australia?
We must talk about that, says Gaius. There might be a problem with P. krameri.
What's this? A problem? asks Isidore coming back with a plate of almond macarons.
We could get him a parrot passport, says Gaius. But that might take some time.
I can organise a parrot passport, says Isidore. One of the advantages of working at the Museum of Natural History.
He can't wait to get rid of me, says P. krameri.
Not at all, says Isidore, offering him a biscuit.
P. krameri takes the biscuit.
Mouldy wants one, says Terence.
Mouldy is offered a biscuit.
Not a BISCUIT! says Terence. A parrot passport.
The biscuits are withdrawn.
Almond macarons. Mouldy would have liked one.
Mouldy travels as an inanimate object, says Gaius. As such, he does not need a passport.
What are the advantages of travelling as an animate object? asks Mouldy.
You get your own seat, says Terence.
I could get two parrot passports, says Isidore. If that would be useful.
Might be more trouble than it's worth, says Gaius. We'd need to make Mouldy look like a parrot.
I'll do it! cries Terence.
Mouldy wonders if it is worth letting Terence make him look like a parrot, to get his own seat.
Monday, August 12, 2019
Dangerous Island
Back at Isidore's apartment, Gaius chats to the parakeet (P. krameri).
Gaius: Tasmania was interesting
P. krameri: A dangerous island. What did you do there?
Gaius: We visited Dismal Swamp. And a cheese factory. I made copious notes. Would you like to see them?
P. krameri: Later. Did Terence travel with you?
Gaius: Yes he did, now you mention it. He befriended a baby penguin in the township of Penguin.
P krameri: That encourages me. Did the friendship continue?
Gaius: No, the penguin remained in Penguin with its parents. It was unable to travel
P krameri: Being too young?
Gaius: No, being a penguin themed bin, like his parents. Jolly family. Keen on jokes.
P. krameri: Ah, travel. Delightful incidental meetings with strangers.
Gaius: Indeed. Have you travelled much?
P. krameri: No.
Isidore enters, with Terence, followed by Mouldy, wheeling the bicycle.
Well, that was embarrassing! says Isidore.
Dear me, says Gaius. What happened?
I was accused of kidnap and child-beating, says Isidore. I had to pull rank. And all for a pebble.
I'll reheat the coffee, says Gaius.
He heads for the kitchen..
We were talking about Tasmania, says P. krameri.
I went there, says Terence.
You made friends with a bin, says P. krameri.
I did NOT, says Terence.
P. krameri believes it's a dangerous island, says Gaius, coming back with more coffee.
For some, it is, says Isidore. Consider the orange-bellied parrot and the forty-spotted pardalote. Both seriously endangered.
But not penguins, says Terence. They're really brave.
He is slowly remembering his good friend Baby Bin Penguin.
And his funny penguin jokes.
Where do penguins go swimming? asks Terence.
Ha ha! I remember this one, says Gaius.
Don't say it, says Terence.
I won't, says Gaius. Isidore?
I don't know, says Isidore.
Nor me, says P. krameri.
Mouldy is not even listening.
The South Pole, says Terence.
Why is nobody laughing?
I think you mean the South Pool, says Gaius.
Isidore laughs. The South Pool. That's funny!
What's the difference? thinks Terence.
Gaius: Tasmania was interesting
P. krameri: A dangerous island. What did you do there?
Gaius: We visited Dismal Swamp. And a cheese factory. I made copious notes. Would you like to see them?
P. krameri: Later. Did Terence travel with you?
Gaius: Yes he did, now you mention it. He befriended a baby penguin in the township of Penguin.
P krameri: That encourages me. Did the friendship continue?
Gaius: No, the penguin remained in Penguin with its parents. It was unable to travel
P krameri: Being too young?
Gaius: No, being a penguin themed bin, like his parents. Jolly family. Keen on jokes.
P. krameri: Ah, travel. Delightful incidental meetings with strangers.
Gaius: Indeed. Have you travelled much?
P. krameri: No.
Isidore enters, with Terence, followed by Mouldy, wheeling the bicycle.
Well, that was embarrassing! says Isidore.
Dear me, says Gaius. What happened?
I was accused of kidnap and child-beating, says Isidore. I had to pull rank. And all for a pebble.
I'll reheat the coffee, says Gaius.
He heads for the kitchen..
We were talking about Tasmania, says P. krameri.
I went there, says Terence.
You made friends with a bin, says P. krameri.
I did NOT, says Terence.
P. krameri believes it's a dangerous island, says Gaius, coming back with more coffee.
For some, it is, says Isidore. Consider the orange-bellied parrot and the forty-spotted pardalote. Both seriously endangered.
But not penguins, says Terence. They're really brave.
He is slowly remembering his good friend Baby Bin Penguin.
And his funny penguin jokes.
Where do penguins go swimming? asks Terence.
Ha ha! I remember this one, says Gaius.
Don't say it, says Terence.
I won't, says Gaius. Isidore?
I don't know, says Isidore.
Nor me, says P. krameri.
Mouldy is not even listening.
The South Pole, says Terence.
Why is nobody laughing?
I think you mean the South Pool, says Gaius.
Isidore laughs. The South Pool. That's funny!
What's the difference? thinks Terence.
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Cruel So-Called Uncle
Come, says Isidore. It's time I returned you to Gaius.
Wait, says Terence. I came here for two reasons and I've only done one.
What were they? asks Isidore, looking at his watch.
Mystery of the ocean, says Terence. That was easy.
Easy? says Isidore.
Too easy, says Terence. Next time I'm in the ocean I'll know that the mystery is PLANKTON.
I imagine you're not allowed in the ocean, says Isidore.
I'll know from the edge, says Terence.
And the other one? asks Isidore.
I left Mouldy here. He's got Baby Pierre's bicycle, and if I go back without it, Baby Pierre will knock my brains out.
Was Mouldy at your lunch table in Les Belles Plantes? asks Isidore.
Is that the same as under? asks Terence.
Obviously not, says Isidore. You should have said something sooner. I suppose we'll have to go back.
Yay! says Terence.
They head back to the café.
......
In Les Belles Plantes, there are people sitting at the relevant table.
Ask them, says Terence.
All right, says Isidore. How shall I put it?
Just put it, says Terence. Say, can I look and see if Mouldy's under your table.
I'll pretend you lost your toy, says Isidore.
Ha ha, laughs Terence. Mouldy, my lost toy.
Isidore approaches the table with Terence.
A thousand apologies for interrupting you in the middle of your late luncheon, says Isidore, but my nephew here...
You said I wasn't your nephew! says Terence.
....has lost his toy, says Isidore. Possibly under this table.
And if I don't get it back I'll get my BRAINS knocked out! says Terence.
The people at the table push their chairs back to let the cruel so-called uncle crawl under their table to look for the toy of the unfortunate nephew.
Wait, says Terence. I came here for two reasons and I've only done one.
What were they? asks Isidore, looking at his watch.
Mystery of the ocean, says Terence. That was easy.
Easy? says Isidore.
Too easy, says Terence. Next time I'm in the ocean I'll know that the mystery is PLANKTON.
I imagine you're not allowed in the ocean, says Isidore.
I'll know from the edge, says Terence.
And the other one? asks Isidore.
I left Mouldy here. He's got Baby Pierre's bicycle, and if I go back without it, Baby Pierre will knock my brains out.
Was Mouldy at your lunch table in Les Belles Plantes? asks Isidore.
Is that the same as under? asks Terence.
Obviously not, says Isidore. You should have said something sooner. I suppose we'll have to go back.
Yay! says Terence.
They head back to the café.
......
In Les Belles Plantes, there are people sitting at the relevant table.
Ask them, says Terence.
All right, says Isidore. How shall I put it?
Just put it, says Terence. Say, can I look and see if Mouldy's under your table.
I'll pretend you lost your toy, says Isidore.
Ha ha, laughs Terence. Mouldy, my lost toy.
Isidore approaches the table with Terence.
A thousand apologies for interrupting you in the middle of your late luncheon, says Isidore, but my nephew here...
You said I wasn't your nephew! says Terence.
....has lost his toy, says Isidore. Possibly under this table.
And if I don't get it back I'll get my BRAINS knocked out! says Terence.
The people at the table push their chairs back to let the cruel so-called uncle crawl under their table to look for the toy of the unfortunate nephew.
Saturday, August 10, 2019
She Won't Smell Me
Are you really my uncle? asks Terence.
No, says Isidore. What a question.
My parrot said it, says Terence.
He lied, says Isidore.
Where is he? asks Terence.
In my apartment with Gaius, says Isidore. You should be thankful.
I'm not thankful, says Terence. Why?
Because he flew back to let us know where you were, says Isidore.
He lied, says Terence.
Not in this case, says Isidore, but he misled me, with regard to Nénette.
He's a terrible parrot, says Terence. I wish Nénette was a parrot. She taught me how to vomit.
One does not learn how to vomit, says Isidore. One simply does it.
Wrong, says Terence. I've never done it. But she showed me how to do it. Want to see?
NO! says Isidore. I do not. You smell bad enough anyway. Nénette may be troubled by your odour.
The rangotang? says Terence. SHE won't smell me.
She might, says Isidore. She does very well for a fifty year old.
Are we there yet? asks Terence.
Nearly, says Isidore.
They arrive at the orangutan enclosure.
Nénette sits beside a blue box with her collection of rags, hoping.
How do we know she is hoping?
She had a birthday last month, with a strawberry cake, and ever since has been hoping.
Isidore speaks to a keeper.
Is she all right?
Yes, of course, says the keeper. Look she's coming over.
Nénette moves slowly towards the boundary of her enclosure.
Hello old dear, says Terence. Can you smell me?
Nénette only understands French.
But she can smell the odour which wafts up from Terence's new claw.
She wrinkles her nose and moves to back to her original position.
Malheureusement, pas de gâteau aux fraises.
See, says Terence.
But really, that doesn't prove anything.
No, says Isidore. What a question.
My parrot said it, says Terence.
He lied, says Isidore.
Where is he? asks Terence.
In my apartment with Gaius, says Isidore. You should be thankful.
I'm not thankful, says Terence. Why?
Because he flew back to let us know where you were, says Isidore.
He lied, says Terence.
Not in this case, says Isidore, but he misled me, with regard to Nénette.
He's a terrible parrot, says Terence. I wish Nénette was a parrot. She taught me how to vomit.
One does not learn how to vomit, says Isidore. One simply does it.
Wrong, says Terence. I've never done it. But she showed me how to do it. Want to see?
NO! says Isidore. I do not. You smell bad enough anyway. Nénette may be troubled by your odour.
The rangotang? says Terence. SHE won't smell me.
She might, says Isidore. She does very well for a fifty year old.
Are we there yet? asks Terence.
Nearly, says Isidore.
They arrive at the orangutan enclosure.
Nénette sits beside a blue box with her collection of rags, hoping.
How do we know she is hoping?
She had a birthday last month, with a strawberry cake, and ever since has been hoping.
Isidore speaks to a keeper.
Is she all right?
Yes, of course, says the keeper. Look she's coming over.
Nénette moves slowly towards the boundary of her enclosure.
Hello old dear, says Terence. Can you smell me?
Nénette only understands French.
But she can smell the odour which wafts up from Terence's new claw.
She wrinkles her nose and moves to back to her original position.
Malheureusement, pas de gâteau aux fraises.
See, says Terence.
But really, that doesn't prove anything.
Friday, August 9, 2019
A Tactless Question
Isidore spots Terence and makes his way to the table.
An unpleasant aroma floats in the air.
Fish glue fumes, and whatever it is on that girl's tee shirt.
And the other girl. Her tee shirt smells too.
Yes? says the mother. Can I help you?
Excuse me , says Isidore. Is this infant annoying you?
A little, says the mother. He came back with Nénette.
Nénette! where is she? asks Isidore. Have I missed her?
Here. My daughter Nénette, says the mother.
Ah! says Isidore. It all makes sense now.
I'm glad you think so, says the mother. Are you in charge?
I am a professor of zoology at the Museum of Natural History, says Isidore.
Are you in charge of Octopus 2, the yellow container? asks the mother. It caused my daughter to vomit.
I'm so sorry, says Isidore. Only one? Looks as though it made both your daughters vomit.
I didn't go in, says Nénette's sister.
Ah! says Isidore, who is not a professor of zoology for nothing. Then perhaps it was something they ate.
Neither of my daughters has learned anything, says the mother. I wished them to learn that the ocean absorbs one quarter of the carbon dioxide emitted by human activities, at the price of increasing the acidification of our oceans, which is a threat to planktons and consequently the entire food web.
Perhaps if your other daughter had gone in, says Isidore, and the daughter who went in had not gone in with Terence.
She MADE me, says Terence.
Madam, says Isidore to the mother, did you pay eight euros for Terence? I shall organise an immediate refund.
No. It seems he got in for nothing, says the mother.
Because I was your nephew, says Terence. My parrot said.
Come with me, Terence, says Isidore. I'll take you back to my apartment. First though, I must check on Nénette.
I can look after my daughter, says the mother. Both of them. Come, Nénette. Come, Zarafa.
Before you go, says Isidore, may I ask why you named your daughters after our iconic orangutan, and our long dead but well-loved giraffe?
But no, it seems he may not ask. The family stalks off.
It was a tactless question.
We get all sorts here, says Isidore.
That's good, says Terence.
An unpleasant aroma floats in the air.
Fish glue fumes, and whatever it is on that girl's tee shirt.
And the other girl. Her tee shirt smells too.
Yes? says the mother. Can I help you?
Excuse me , says Isidore. Is this infant annoying you?
A little, says the mother. He came back with Nénette.
Nénette! where is she? asks Isidore. Have I missed her?
Here. My daughter Nénette, says the mother.
Ah! says Isidore. It all makes sense now.
I'm glad you think so, says the mother. Are you in charge?
I am a professor of zoology at the Museum of Natural History, says Isidore.
Are you in charge of Octopus 2, the yellow container? asks the mother. It caused my daughter to vomit.
I'm so sorry, says Isidore. Only one? Looks as though it made both your daughters vomit.
I didn't go in, says Nénette's sister.
Ah! says Isidore, who is not a professor of zoology for nothing. Then perhaps it was something they ate.
Neither of my daughters has learned anything, says the mother. I wished them to learn that the ocean absorbs one quarter of the carbon dioxide emitted by human activities, at the price of increasing the acidification of our oceans, which is a threat to planktons and consequently the entire food web.
Perhaps if your other daughter had gone in, says Isidore, and the daughter who went in had not gone in with Terence.
She MADE me, says Terence.
Madam, says Isidore to the mother, did you pay eight euros for Terence? I shall organise an immediate refund.
No. It seems he got in for nothing, says the mother.
Because I was your nephew, says Terence. My parrot said.
Come with me, Terence, says Isidore. I'll take you back to my apartment. First though, I must check on Nénette.
I can look after my daughter, says the mother. Both of them. Come, Nénette. Come, Zarafa.
Before you go, says Isidore, may I ask why you named your daughters after our iconic orangutan, and our long dead but well-loved giraffe?
But no, it seems he may not ask. The family stalks off.
It was a tactless question.
We get all sorts here, says Isidore.
That's good, says Terence.
Thursday, August 8, 2019
All This Could Have Been Avoided
Why so alarmed? asks Gaius.
Nénette must have escaped her enclosure, says Isidore. I must go at once.
I'll stay here and keep Gaius company, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
Isidore rushes out.
Perhaps I should have gone with him, says Gaius.
No, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
You seem certain, says Gaius.
I am certain, says P. krameri. Relax. Finish your coffee.
Who or what is Nénette? asks Gaius.
A child covered in vomit, or a geriatric orangutan says P. krameri. Take your pick.
I imagine Isidore thinks it's the latter, says Gaius. And from your attitude, I imagine it isn't.
Quite right, says the parakeet (P. krameri). By the way, my friends call me P. krameri.
An excellent name, says Gaius.
I've always thought so, says P. krameri. By the way, is that a teaspoon?
Yes it is, says Gaius.
So all this could have been avoided, says P. krameri.
It's often the way, says Gaius.
Meanwhile Isidore has hopped off the Metro and raced to the Jardin des Plantes. He has entered the Belles Plantes café, expecting the worst.
That dear old Nénette will be blundering into chairs and tables, bewildered, seeking her morning croquette.
Looking for her herbal tea, her team of kindly doctors.
Old age's comforts.
But what does Isidore see?
No geriatric orangutan, but people, eating soft boiled eggs with asparagus, and semi cooked tuna with ginger lime sauce, and drinking Folle Envie.
At one table, a woman speaks crossly.
Such a WASTE of eight euros!
At the same table, a girl (Nénette) in a yellowing tee shirt, another girl (her sister), and Terence who is waving his claw in the air, creating fish fumes.
Nénette must have escaped her enclosure, says Isidore. I must go at once.
I'll stay here and keep Gaius company, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
Isidore rushes out.
Perhaps I should have gone with him, says Gaius.
No, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
You seem certain, says Gaius.
I am certain, says P. krameri. Relax. Finish your coffee.
Who or what is Nénette? asks Gaius.
A child covered in vomit, or a geriatric orangutan says P. krameri. Take your pick.
I imagine Isidore thinks it's the latter, says Gaius. And from your attitude, I imagine it isn't.
Quite right, says the parakeet (P. krameri). By the way, my friends call me P. krameri.
An excellent name, says Gaius.
I've always thought so, says P. krameri. By the way, is that a teaspoon?
Yes it is, says Gaius.
So all this could have been avoided, says P. krameri.
It's often the way, says Gaius.
Meanwhile Isidore has hopped off the Metro and raced to the Jardin des Plantes. He has entered the Belles Plantes café, expecting the worst.
That dear old Nénette will be blundering into chairs and tables, bewildered, seeking her morning croquette.
Looking for her herbal tea, her team of kindly doctors.
Old age's comforts.
But what does Isidore see?
No geriatric orangutan, but people, eating soft boiled eggs with asparagus, and semi cooked tuna with ginger lime sauce, and drinking Folle Envie.
At one table, a woman speaks crossly.
Such a WASTE of eight euros!
At the same table, a girl (Nénette) in a yellowing tee shirt, another girl (her sister), and Terence who is waving his claw in the air, creating fish fumes.
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
Little To Do After Being Eaten
Inside the yellow container, the children look for clues left by mysterious marine creatures.
It's too easy.
Giant squid legs, says Nénette. And a fake sea serpent. That's pretty pathetic.
Buttons! says Terence.
There wouldn't be buttons, says Nénette.
But Terence is right.
There are buttons. Choose your own larvae.
Nénette chooses one. Terence chooses another.
An interactive cartoon unfolds on the wall inside the yellow container.
About eating, mainly.
Plankton.
Some eat, some get eaten
After being eaten, there's little else to do.
I'm going, says Terence. This is boring, and I remembered something.
What? asks Nénette.
Mouldy, says Terence. I left him in the café.
Did the plankton remind you? asks Nénette.
Yes, says Terence. How do we get out of here?
There doesn't seem to be an exit.
I know! says Nénette. I'll vomit.
....
The container door is closed.
The parakeet (P. krameri) leans against it, chatting to the attendant.
It was an unfortunate series of events, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
So it seems, says the attendant. But I think you should let them know.
Perhaps you're right, says the parakeet (P. krameri). Wait here, will you?
Of course, it's my job, says the attendant.
P. krameri flies away to Montmartre to let Isidore know.
....
This is what happened.
The door of the yellow container opened.
Nénette was bundled out.
Followed by Terence.
Where's my parrot? asked Terence.
Wait here, said the outside attendant. He'll be back shortly.
Find this kid's mother, said the inside attendant.
No need, said Nénette. I know where she is. Which way is the café?
......
Gaius and Isidore are still chatting..
P. krameri knocks on the door.
Gaius looks up as P. krameri flies in.
Where is young Terence?
He's okay. He's in the Belles Plantes café with Nénette, says P. krameri.
Isidore looks alarmed.
Nénette! Loose in his cafe?
It's too easy.
Giant squid legs, says Nénette. And a fake sea serpent. That's pretty pathetic.
Buttons! says Terence.
There wouldn't be buttons, says Nénette.
But Terence is right.
There are buttons. Choose your own larvae.
Nénette chooses one. Terence chooses another.
An interactive cartoon unfolds on the wall inside the yellow container.
About eating, mainly.
Plankton.
Some eat, some get eaten
After being eaten, there's little else to do.
I'm going, says Terence. This is boring, and I remembered something.
What? asks Nénette.
Mouldy, says Terence. I left him in the café.
Did the plankton remind you? asks Nénette.
Yes, says Terence. How do we get out of here?
There doesn't seem to be an exit.
I know! says Nénette. I'll vomit.
....
The container door is closed.
The parakeet (P. krameri) leans against it, chatting to the attendant.
It was an unfortunate series of events, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
So it seems, says the attendant. But I think you should let them know.
Perhaps you're right, says the parakeet (P. krameri). Wait here, will you?
Of course, it's my job, says the attendant.
P. krameri flies away to Montmartre to let Isidore know.
....
This is what happened.
The door of the yellow container opened.
Nénette was bundled out.
Followed by Terence.
Where's my parrot? asked Terence.
Wait here, said the outside attendant. He'll be back shortly.
Find this kid's mother, said the inside attendant.
No need, said Nénette. I know where she is. Which way is the café?
......
Gaius and Isidore are still chatting..
P. krameri knocks on the door.
Gaius looks up as P. krameri flies in.
Where is young Terence?
He's okay. He's in the Belles Plantes café with Nénette, says P. krameri.
Isidore looks alarmed.
Nénette! Loose in his cafe?
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
Queue For The Yellow Container
Hey! says Terence. This isn't the ocean.
They are back at Le Jardin des Plantes.
Never said it was, says the parakeet.
Mystery of the Ocean, says Terence. You said it.
And what does Mystery mean? asks the parakeet.
Terence knows the answer.
Singing.
Not singing, says the parakeet. Why did you say that?
Not singing exactly, says Terence. But you can sing if you like.
Why would I? asks the parakeet.
While you think about the Mystery, says Terence.
Sing then, says the parakeet.
Terence sings:
Where is the ocean where is it
Where?
That was short, says the parakeet.
You can keep on singing it, says Terence. And it doesn't have to be the ocean. It can be Where is my toolbox?
Wow! says the parakeet. I must remember that. Where is my toolbox?
I hid it, says Terence.
I don't have a tool box, says the parakeet.
Saint Joseph did, says Terence.
By now they have arrived at the Paleontology Gallery and stopped in front of a yellow container.
There is a queue of young children, aged four to eleven, outside the container, about to go in.
Hello, says one of the children. Come in with me. My sister started vomiting, so I have to go in by myself.
Where's the ocean? asks Terence.
It's the seabed, says the child. Not the ocean. We have to look for clues left by mysterious creatures.
Told you, says the parakeet.
Okay, says Terence. I'll go in with her.
I'm Nénette, says the child.
He's Terence, says the parakeet. I'm P. krameri.
No way, says Terence.
Are you coming in too? asks Nénette.
Seen it before, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
Tickets please, says a ticket attendant.
Nénette gives him her ticket.
The attendant looks at Terence.
What? says Terence.
He doesn't need a ticket, says the parakeet (P. krameri) to the attendant. He's a nephew of Isidore's.
D'accord, says the attendant. Welcome to Octopus 2.
Woo hoo! The young oceanauts enter the yellow container.
They are back at Le Jardin des Plantes.
Never said it was, says the parakeet.
Mystery of the Ocean, says Terence. You said it.
And what does Mystery mean? asks the parakeet.
Terence knows the answer.
Singing.
Not singing, says the parakeet. Why did you say that?
Not singing exactly, says Terence. But you can sing if you like.
Why would I? asks the parakeet.
While you think about the Mystery, says Terence.
Sing then, says the parakeet.
Terence sings:
Where is the ocean where is it
Where?
That was short, says the parakeet.
You can keep on singing it, says Terence. And it doesn't have to be the ocean. It can be Where is my toolbox?
Wow! says the parakeet. I must remember that. Where is my toolbox?
I hid it, says Terence.
I don't have a tool box, says the parakeet.
Saint Joseph did, says Terence.
By now they have arrived at the Paleontology Gallery and stopped in front of a yellow container.
There is a queue of young children, aged four to eleven, outside the container, about to go in.
Hello, says one of the children. Come in with me. My sister started vomiting, so I have to go in by myself.
Where's the ocean? asks Terence.
It's the seabed, says the child. Not the ocean. We have to look for clues left by mysterious creatures.
Told you, says the parakeet.
Okay, says Terence. I'll go in with her.
I'm Nénette, says the child.
He's Terence, says the parakeet. I'm P. krameri.
No way, says Terence.
Are you coming in too? asks Nénette.
Seen it before, says the parakeet (P. krameri).
Tickets please, says a ticket attendant.
Nénette gives him her ticket.
The attendant looks at Terence.
What? says Terence.
He doesn't need a ticket, says the parakeet (P. krameri) to the attendant. He's a nephew of Isidore's.
D'accord, says the attendant. Welcome to Octopus 2.
Woo hoo! The young oceanauts enter the yellow container.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Rule One Ignore Ultimatums
Terence and the parakeet are outside.
Where did you drop it? asks Terence.
From the window, says the parakeet.
Which window? asks Terence.
That one, says the parakeet. Up there.
It's still half open, says Terence.
Bang!
It closes, as he is watching.
Isidore must have stood up, walked across to the window and closed it.
He'll be closing the door, too, says the parakeet.
Good, says Terence. That means we can do what we want.
Which is? asks the parakeet.
Find the SPOON, says Terence. Are you stupid?
No, says the parakeet. But you are. You could do anything.
Find the spoon first, says Terence. Then after, we can have an adventure.
There it is, says the parakeet, spotting the spoon.
Pick it up, says Terence.
Too late. A woman has picked up the spoon.
My lost spoon! says the woman. How did it get here?
She walks back with the spoon, to where it came from.
Now I'm sad, says Terence. I really wanted that spoon.
And I wanted you to have it, says the parakeet. You had a chance to pick it up. But did you? No, you told me to do it. And before I could do it, she did it.
One more chance, says Terence. Or I drop you.
Pfrrt! says the parakeet. One more chance and I drop YOU.
It's a power game. Terence likes it. Rule One. Ignore ultimatums.
Now for an adventure, says Terence.
How about.....Mystery of the Ocean! says the parakeet.
Terence's eyes widen. The ocean! Where he's not allowed, normally.
Come, says the parakeet grandly. To get there, we must take the Metro.
Where did you drop it? asks Terence.
From the window, says the parakeet.
Which window? asks Terence.
That one, says the parakeet. Up there.
It's still half open, says Terence.
Bang!
It closes, as he is watching.
Isidore must have stood up, walked across to the window and closed it.
He'll be closing the door, too, says the parakeet.
Good, says Terence. That means we can do what we want.
Which is? asks the parakeet.
Find the SPOON, says Terence. Are you stupid?
No, says the parakeet. But you are. You could do anything.
Find the spoon first, says Terence. Then after, we can have an adventure.
There it is, says the parakeet, spotting the spoon.
Pick it up, says Terence.
Too late. A woman has picked up the spoon.
My lost spoon! says the woman. How did it get here?
She walks back with the spoon, to where it came from.
Now I'm sad, says Terence. I really wanted that spoon.
And I wanted you to have it, says the parakeet. You had a chance to pick it up. But did you? No, you told me to do it. And before I could do it, she did it.
One more chance, says Terence. Or I drop you.
Pfrrt! says the parakeet. One more chance and I drop YOU.
It's a power game. Terence likes it. Rule One. Ignore ultimatums.
Now for an adventure, says Terence.
How about.....Mystery of the Ocean! says the parakeet.
Terence's eyes widen. The ocean! Where he's not allowed, normally.
Come, says the parakeet grandly. To get there, we must take the Metro.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
Always Trust Birds
Who shut the window? asks the parakeet.
Me, says Terence.
Why? asks the parakeet. You knew I was coming back in.
Making it harder, says Terence.
It was a beautiful spoon, says the parakeet, talking it up.
Go back and get it, says Terence. Then I'll forgive you.
No, says the parakeet. You had your chance.
I'll get it myself, says Terence. Keep them talking.
Okay, says the parakeet.
Terence tiptoes to the door.
The parakeet flies to a tiny coffee table, between two armchairs, where Gaius and Isidore are drinking their coffee.
Thanks for opening the window, says the parakeet.
You can thank Gaius, says Isidore. I wasn't going to.
Thank you, Gaius, says the parakeet.
Anything for a quiet life, says Gaius. If Terence is thwarted, he tends to go off on a tangent.
He's gone off on one now, says the parakeet.
It's true, the apartment door is ajar. Terence is missing.
Go after him, will you, says Gaius. He can't have got far.
Will the door be open when we return? asks the parakeet.
No, says Isidore. You'll have to knock.
The parakeet flies out after Terence.
Perhaps you should go too, says Isidore. After all, he is but an infant.
I trust birds, says Gaius. Always have.
Isidore looks doubtful. They don't think like we do.
All the more reason, says Gaius. You used to lecture on ornithology, didn't you.
I did, says Isidore. And before that I had an interest in mathematics.
Mathematics? says Gaius. A fascinating subject.
Fascinating, says Isidore. And unchanging.
Surely not, says Gaius. There must always be new discoveries.
Yes and no, says Isidore. Why only last year a new geometrical shape was discovered.
Why yes and no? asks Gaius.
The shape already existed in nature, in some insects, such as beetles. says Isidore. Put simply, it's a prismatoid to which one extra mid level vertex has been added.
Gaius can't picture it.
Draw one for me, says Gaius.
Isidore takes a small notepad and pencil from his top pocket, and draws a scutoid.
Behold the scutoid, says Isidore. Without it, complex life on earth may never have happened.
They both look at the scutoid.
Not much good on its own, says Isidore. But packed together, cells of this shape facilitate tissue curvature.
Well I never, says Gaius.
And what about you? asks Isidore.
Me? says Gaius. Tour de France of course, but before that I was in Western Australia looking for a new species of peacock spider. Found one too. But it has been claimed by the Chinese. Before that I was doing some work with the bandy bandies in Weipa. Their habitat is endangered.......
The two old friends chat on, forgetting the time.
Terence and his bird are not back yet.
Me, says Terence.
Why? asks the parakeet. You knew I was coming back in.
Making it harder, says Terence.
It was a beautiful spoon, says the parakeet, talking it up.
Go back and get it, says Terence. Then I'll forgive you.
No, says the parakeet. You had your chance.
I'll get it myself, says Terence. Keep them talking.
Okay, says the parakeet.
Terence tiptoes to the door.
The parakeet flies to a tiny coffee table, between two armchairs, where Gaius and Isidore are drinking their coffee.
Thanks for opening the window, says the parakeet.
You can thank Gaius, says Isidore. I wasn't going to.
Thank you, Gaius, says the parakeet.
Anything for a quiet life, says Gaius. If Terence is thwarted, he tends to go off on a tangent.
He's gone off on one now, says the parakeet.
It's true, the apartment door is ajar. Terence is missing.
Go after him, will you, says Gaius. He can't have got far.
Will the door be open when we return? asks the parakeet.
No, says Isidore. You'll have to knock.
The parakeet flies out after Terence.
Perhaps you should go too, says Isidore. After all, he is but an infant.
I trust birds, says Gaius. Always have.
Isidore looks doubtful. They don't think like we do.
All the more reason, says Gaius. You used to lecture on ornithology, didn't you.
I did, says Isidore. And before that I had an interest in mathematics.
Mathematics? says Gaius. A fascinating subject.
Fascinating, says Isidore. And unchanging.
Surely not, says Gaius. There must always be new discoveries.
Yes and no, says Isidore. Why only last year a new geometrical shape was discovered.
Why yes and no? asks Gaius.
The shape already existed in nature, in some insects, such as beetles. says Isidore. Put simply, it's a prismatoid to which one extra mid level vertex has been added.
Gaius can't picture it.
Draw one for me, says Gaius.
Isidore takes a small notepad and pencil from his top pocket, and draws a scutoid.
Behold the scutoid, says Isidore. Without it, complex life on earth may never have happened.
They both look at the scutoid.
Not much good on its own, says Isidore. But packed together, cells of this shape facilitate tissue curvature.
Well I never, says Gaius.
And what about you? asks Isidore.
Me? says Gaius. Tour de France of course, but before that I was in Western Australia looking for a new species of peacock spider. Found one too. But it has been claimed by the Chinese. Before that I was doing some work with the bandy bandies in Weipa. Their habitat is endangered.......
The two old friends chat on, forgetting the time.
Terence and his bird are not back yet.
Saturday, August 3, 2019
Unproductive In Montmartre
Isidore, Gaius, Terence and the parakeet take the Metro to Montmartre, the location of Isidore's apartment.
A busy square. A carousel. Cobbles. A lobby. A lift to the second floor.
Nice apartment, says Gaius.
I like it, says Isidore. From this window, I have a view of the square.
Gaius looks though the window.
I stayed somewhere near here a few years ago, says Gaius. There was a climate conference. I was billeted with Carl Linnaeus. Funny fellow. He came in a beaded leather costume, and carried a magical drum.
Was I there? asks Terence.
Probably, says Gaius. I don't remember.
Come into the kitchen, says Isidore. I'll make coffee.
Gaius and Isidore go into the kitchen.
He doesn't remember! says Terence.
Do you? asks the parakeet.
No, says Terence. But I remember the carousel.
Then you were here, says the parakeet.
You're smarter than Gaius! says Terence. I'm going to give you a task.
Go ahead, says the parakeet.
Fly out of the window and fly back in, says Terence.
Isn't that unproductive? asks the parakeet.
What does that mean? asks Terence.
Pointless, says the parakeet. Perhaps I could bring you back something.
Yes, says Terence. Bring me back something.
The parakeet flies out of the window, to look for a suitable thing.
He flies down to the cobbled square, and perches on the back of a chair outside a café.
Spies a teaspoon. That will do, surely. It's shiny except for a beard of dried froth.
He picks up the teaspoon and flies up to the window.
The window is shut!
Terence is inside, making signals.
The signals say: I can't open the window.
That much is clear.
The next signal says: What did you bring me?
The parakeet turns this way and that, demonstrating the spoon.
Terence disappears for a minute.
Isidore comes to the window.
He doesn't make signals, but his face says: I should prefer not to open the window.
Then it appears to listen to a reasoned suggestion:
Now his face says: All right. I shall open the window.
He opens the window, just wide enough for a parakeet, but not also a spoon.
The parakeet drops the spoon and squeezes in through the gap of open window.
You failed, says Terence.
YOU failed, says the parakeet. You don't get the spoon.
A busy square. A carousel. Cobbles. A lobby. A lift to the second floor.
Nice apartment, says Gaius.
I like it, says Isidore. From this window, I have a view of the square.
Gaius looks though the window.
I stayed somewhere near here a few years ago, says Gaius. There was a climate conference. I was billeted with Carl Linnaeus. Funny fellow. He came in a beaded leather costume, and carried a magical drum.
Was I there? asks Terence.
Probably, says Gaius. I don't remember.
Come into the kitchen, says Isidore. I'll make coffee.
Gaius and Isidore go into the kitchen.
He doesn't remember! says Terence.
Do you? asks the parakeet.
No, says Terence. But I remember the carousel.
Then you were here, says the parakeet.
You're smarter than Gaius! says Terence. I'm going to give you a task.
Go ahead, says the parakeet.
Fly out of the window and fly back in, says Terence.
Isn't that unproductive? asks the parakeet.
What does that mean? asks Terence.
Pointless, says the parakeet. Perhaps I could bring you back something.
Yes, says Terence. Bring me back something.
The parakeet flies out of the window, to look for a suitable thing.
He flies down to the cobbled square, and perches on the back of a chair outside a café.
Spies a teaspoon. That will do, surely. It's shiny except for a beard of dried froth.
He picks up the teaspoon and flies up to the window.
The window is shut!
Terence is inside, making signals.
The signals say: I can't open the window.
That much is clear.
The next signal says: What did you bring me?
The parakeet turns this way and that, demonstrating the spoon.
Terence disappears for a minute.
Isidore comes to the window.
He doesn't make signals, but his face says: I should prefer not to open the window.
Then it appears to listen to a reasoned suggestion:
Now his face says: All right. I shall open the window.
He opens the window, just wide enough for a parakeet, but not also a spoon.
The parakeet drops the spoon and squeezes in through the gap of open window.
You failed, says Terence.
YOU failed, says the parakeet. You don't get the spoon.
Friday, August 2, 2019
Disturbed Habitats
I'm back, says the parakeet.
See this? says Terence.
Seen it, says the parakeet. I found it, remember?
What did you think it was? asks Terence.
A claw, says the parakeet.
It's a SEED, says Terence. I'm getting it stuck on with fish glue.
Seed, claw, what's the difference? says the parakeet.
You're a rubbish parakeet, says Terence.
I can't accept that, says the parakeet. I was prepared to take up your offer, but now I'm not going to.
What offer? asks Terence.
To be your parrot, says the parakeet.
That will still happen, says Isidore.
Gaius looks up from the fish glue, which is slow to start oozing. Must have hardened, near the lid. Not screwed on properly.
Isidore looks encouraging.
Of course, says Gaius. A rose-ringed parakeet will be an excellent companion for Terence.
Why? asks Terence.
It doesn't matter why, says the parakeet. I'm refusing.
Because, says Gaius, they are not endangered. They are noisy. They can be taught to speak. And they adapt successfully to disturbed habitats.
The parakeet softens.
So does the glue.
Excuse me a minute, says Gaius. I must act quickly.
He grasps Terence's hand, and the fish glue.
The seed, Isidore.
The seed is placed in the space that once contained Terence's finger, and more recently the claw of his blood brother, Baby BB.
When can I water it? asks Terence.
Not yet, says Gaius. The glue must set hard.
Do you expect it to sprout? asks the parakeet.
Yes, says Terence. And I expect you to ask me if you can eat it.
And you'll say no, says the parakeet. I already know what you're like.
Terence waves his new claw in the air to speed up the drying.
The parakeet sniffs.
Phoo! I can smell it.
No! You can't smell it. says Terence.
That must have been a dream you had, says the parakeet. I can certainly smell it.
Terence sniffs. Yes. It's smelly. One to the parakeet.
He waits.
Okay, says the parakeet. We'll have a trial period.
Good, says Isidore. Now Gaius, where are you staying in Paris?
Nowhere at present, says Gaius.
Then you must stay with me a few days, says Isidore. It will be good to catch up.
Belle returns from the toilets.
Mademoiselle, your charge now has a new parrot, says Isidore.
Lovely, says Belle. But he'll be Gaius's charge for the rest of the month. I'm heading to Ferney with some girlfriends.
Really? says Gaius. Never mind, I suppose we can cope.
Isidore smiles with his mouth, but his eyes say: So the parakeet will be in my apartment. That is annoying.
See this? says Terence.
Seen it, says the parakeet. I found it, remember?
What did you think it was? asks Terence.
A claw, says the parakeet.
It's a SEED, says Terence. I'm getting it stuck on with fish glue.
Seed, claw, what's the difference? says the parakeet.
You're a rubbish parakeet, says Terence.
I can't accept that, says the parakeet. I was prepared to take up your offer, but now I'm not going to.
What offer? asks Terence.
To be your parrot, says the parakeet.
That will still happen, says Isidore.
Gaius looks up from the fish glue, which is slow to start oozing. Must have hardened, near the lid. Not screwed on properly.
Isidore looks encouraging.
Of course, says Gaius. A rose-ringed parakeet will be an excellent companion for Terence.
Why? asks Terence.
It doesn't matter why, says the parakeet. I'm refusing.
Because, says Gaius, they are not endangered. They are noisy. They can be taught to speak. And they adapt successfully to disturbed habitats.
The parakeet softens.
So does the glue.
Excuse me a minute, says Gaius. I must act quickly.
He grasps Terence's hand, and the fish glue.
The seed, Isidore.
The seed is placed in the space that once contained Terence's finger, and more recently the claw of his blood brother, Baby BB.
When can I water it? asks Terence.
Not yet, says Gaius. The glue must set hard.
Do you expect it to sprout? asks the parakeet.
Yes, says Terence. And I expect you to ask me if you can eat it.
And you'll say no, says the parakeet. I already know what you're like.
Terence waves his new claw in the air to speed up the drying.
The parakeet sniffs.
Phoo! I can smell it.
No! You can't smell it. says Terence.
That must have been a dream you had, says the parakeet. I can certainly smell it.
Terence sniffs. Yes. It's smelly. One to the parakeet.
He waits.
Okay, says the parakeet. We'll have a trial period.
Good, says Isidore. Now Gaius, where are you staying in Paris?
Nowhere at present, says Gaius.
Then you must stay with me a few days, says Isidore. It will be good to catch up.
Belle returns from the toilets.
Mademoiselle, your charge now has a new parrot, says Isidore.
Lovely, says Belle. But he'll be Gaius's charge for the rest of the month. I'm heading to Ferney with some girlfriends.
Really? says Gaius. Never mind, I suppose we can cope.
Isidore smiles with his mouth, but his eyes say: So the parakeet will be in my apartment. That is annoying.
Thursday, August 1, 2019
Dazzle And Go
Lunch is over.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket are the first to depart.
Are you sure, Sprocky? asks Grace Swan. You don't know a lot about surfing.
Sweezus looks at Sprocket.
Sprocket makes a face that he hopes will be interpreted as meaning: Mothers know nothing.
This is Sweezus's opinion exactly.
And Arthur's.
They go.
He should have asked ME, says Terence.
You couldn't go surfing, says Belle. You'd sink to the bottom.
But he didn't even ask me, says Terence. And he didn't help me get a new parrot.
New parrot? says Isidore. I'm sure I could provide one.
Yay! says Terence. Which one?
The one that found your lost claw, says Isidore. He is not attached to our zoo. And he likes you.
Where is he? asks Gaius.
Flown off again, says Isidore. He's a free agent.
Terence is reminded of his found claw.
He looks hard at it.
Let me see, says Vello. Hum. Looks more like a seed.
Does it? says David. Let me see.
The two philosophers stare at the seed.
Terence waits for their opinion.
Bite it, says David. It's the only way to be certain.
No, don't bite it, says Belle. If it's Terence's claw he won't want it broken.
But it might be a SEED! wails Terence.
If it's a seed it will grow, says Belle.
How long will that take? asks Terence.
Ask Gaius, says Belle.
What's this? asks Gaius.
Is this a seed? asks Terence.
It's a sunflower seed, says Gaius. Do you concur, Isidore?
I do, says Isidore. But it will make a fine claw. And imagine it sprouting.
Terence imagines it sprouting.
He imagines his new claw held aloft in the air, against the blue sky. A parrot spots it. And flutters down to examine it further. May I eat this? asks the parrot. No way, says Terence. It is the claw of my blood brother, Baby BB. Wow! says the parrot. May I smell it? No, says Terence. You may not even smell it. But you may come with me wherever I go, and do jobs for me. I used to live in a palace. The parrot is dazzled by this information and says yes....
While Terence is dreaming this ideal scenario, Isidore heads back to the terrace, hoping to spot the rose-ringed parakeet that raids his kitchen garden tomatoes. This is his chance to be rid of it.
Gaius is rummaging around in his back pack, looking for fish glue.
Tch! says Gaius. I wonder if Arthur has it.....No, here it is!
He starts screwing the lid off.
Time to go, says David. Coming, Vello?
I shall wait here for Isidore, says Gaius.
Me too, says Terence.
But Vello will take care of the bill, I trust? says Gaius.
Do you doubt it? says Vello.
Of course not, says Gaius. Just a timely reminder.
Vello walks off to pay for the lunch, muttering about rudeness.
Isidore comes back with a parakeet whom he has dazzled with certain information.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket are the first to depart.
Are you sure, Sprocky? asks Grace Swan. You don't know a lot about surfing.
Sweezus looks at Sprocket.
Sprocket makes a face that he hopes will be interpreted as meaning: Mothers know nothing.
This is Sweezus's opinion exactly.
And Arthur's.
They go.
He should have asked ME, says Terence.
You couldn't go surfing, says Belle. You'd sink to the bottom.
But he didn't even ask me, says Terence. And he didn't help me get a new parrot.
New parrot? says Isidore. I'm sure I could provide one.
Yay! says Terence. Which one?
The one that found your lost claw, says Isidore. He is not attached to our zoo. And he likes you.
Where is he? asks Gaius.
Flown off again, says Isidore. He's a free agent.
Terence is reminded of his found claw.
He looks hard at it.
Let me see, says Vello. Hum. Looks more like a seed.
Does it? says David. Let me see.
The two philosophers stare at the seed.
Terence waits for their opinion.
Bite it, says David. It's the only way to be certain.
No, don't bite it, says Belle. If it's Terence's claw he won't want it broken.
But it might be a SEED! wails Terence.
If it's a seed it will grow, says Belle.
How long will that take? asks Terence.
Ask Gaius, says Belle.
What's this? asks Gaius.
Is this a seed? asks Terence.
It's a sunflower seed, says Gaius. Do you concur, Isidore?
I do, says Isidore. But it will make a fine claw. And imagine it sprouting.
Terence imagines it sprouting.
He imagines his new claw held aloft in the air, against the blue sky. A parrot spots it. And flutters down to examine it further. May I eat this? asks the parrot. No way, says Terence. It is the claw of my blood brother, Baby BB. Wow! says the parrot. May I smell it? No, says Terence. You may not even smell it. But you may come with me wherever I go, and do jobs for me. I used to live in a palace. The parrot is dazzled by this information and says yes....
While Terence is dreaming this ideal scenario, Isidore heads back to the terrace, hoping to spot the rose-ringed parakeet that raids his kitchen garden tomatoes. This is his chance to be rid of it.
Gaius is rummaging around in his back pack, looking for fish glue.
Tch! says Gaius. I wonder if Arthur has it.....No, here it is!
He starts screwing the lid off.
Time to go, says David. Coming, Vello?
I shall wait here for Isidore, says Gaius.
Me too, says Terence.
But Vello will take care of the bill, I trust? says Gaius.
Do you doubt it? says Vello.
Of course not, says Gaius. Just a timely reminder.
Vello walks off to pay for the lunch, muttering about rudeness.
Isidore comes back with a parakeet whom he has dazzled with certain information.
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