Genius And Watchi

Look, Arthur, says Terence. A watchi.

Arthur opens his eyes, and looks.

So does Reedy, at the other end of the sofa.

It's not a watchi, says Reedy, it's a Tamagotchi. My sister had one.

What are the buttons for? asks Arthur. He presses one.

DON'T, says Terence. My egg's hatching.

It's hatched, says Reedy. See, that's your baby. Those are it's eyes.

What do I do now? asks Terence.

Feed it and keep it happy, says Reedy. And pick up it's droppings.

I'm not doing that, says Terence. 

Then it dies, says Reedy.

Good, says Terence. 

Dinner! calls Carol. Come and sit down.

Arthur and Reedy get up and go to the table.

Terence sits on the sofa, with his baby. It hasn't dropped droppings. Not yet.

Beep! says the baby Tamagotchi.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

Louisa is busy explaining the ingredients of a bowl of  beetroot, carrot, kale and cranberry salad to Gaius, so she doesn't hear the question.

Reedy is helping himself to turkey and gravy. Nor does he.

Beep! Beep! goes the baby Tamagotchi. 

Terence presses a button. 

A milk bottle appears. The baby looks glum.

Drink it, says Terence.

NO! snaps the baby.

Why? asks Terence.

Why not? says the baby.

Why not what? asks Terence.

You should have asked me why not, says the baby. Not why.

What's wrong with why? asks Terence. 

Because you wanted to know why I won't drink the milk, says the baby. Why is for asking why I will drink it.

I don't think you're a real baby, says Terence.

Good deduction, says the baby. You're nearly as clever as me,

Babies aren't clever says Terence. 

Digital ones are, says the baby. If you feed me and give me activities and keep the discipline meter at 100 percent I'll grow into a Tamatchi and then a Mametchi. A Mametchi is the smartest Tamagotchi.

Woop, says Terence. If you don't do droppings I might think about it.

Deal, says the baby. But you'll have to hack into me.

How? asks Terence.

Open me and disable the droppings function, says the baby.

Okay, says Terence. I'll get one of them to help me. Hey!

What, little buddy? asks Sweezus, spearing a roasted potato.

Help me open this watchi and disable the droppings function, says Terence.

Holy cow! says Sweezus. What are you, a genius?

Terence looks proud.

And It Died

The next day. Christmas.

Louisa's mum's house.

Everyone rocks up.

Come in boys, says Carol. Welcome. Good to see you again. How long ago was it? Six years? 

Indeed, says Gaius. Louisa was just a schoolgirl.

Yes. she played the trumpet in the school band, says Carol. And there was some sort of mix-up when you all got off the ferry.

That was me and Arthur, says Sweezus. They thought I was David Suzuki and Arthur was Jacques Cousteau.

That's right, says Carol. And then the real David Suzuki and Jacques Cousteau turned up.

No, that wasn't them either, says Sweezus.

O, says Carol. I always thought it was.

Mum, says Louisa. You knew it wasn't.

Was I there? asks Terence. Who was I?

You were the Bright Red Object, says Louisa.

Terence had forgotten. 

Well, Terence, says Carol, Louisa has got you a present.

Yay! says Terence. 

Have you wrapped it? asks Louisa. 

I wrapped it, says Carol. She hands Terence a box, tied with a bright red ribbon.

Terence opens the box.

What is it? Yippee! A watch!

No, a Tamagotchi, says Louisa.

No kidding! says Sweezus. I haven't seen one of them for, like..... years. 

See the three buttons? says Louisa. Press that one. And you'll see your egg.

Terence presses it.

But he doesn't see an egg. He sees a ghost and a headstone.

That must be my last pet, says Louisa. I guess I stopped feeding it, and it died.

Can I smell turkey? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Carol. I hope it's not too birdy.

Not at all, says Gaius. A turkey is what it is.

I mean, to eat, says Carol. I have plenty of salads.

We are all a bit under the weather, says Gaius. We've been eating sweaty pastries and drinking beer all yesterday, last night and first thing this morning.

Is that why Arthur and Reedy have collapsed on the sofa? asks Carol.

Could be. 

Or perhaps there was just nowhere to fit them into the conversation.

Many Uses Of Mothers

 Louisa searches her house for a present for Terence.

Nothing.

She calls her mum, Carol, in Kingscote.

Mum! Have you got my old Tamagotchi?

Somewhere, says Carol. Why?

Can you bring it over? asks Louisa.

No, says Carol. I'm busy making a trifle.

Bugger, says Louisa. If I send some friends round, can you give it to them?

I suppose so, says Carol.

Could you wrap it up first? asks Louisa.

So it's a present for one of your friends, says Carol. 

Yes, they're coming to my house for Christmas dinner, says Louisa.

When? asks Carol.

Tomorrow lunch time, says Louisa.

But I'm expecting you here! says Carol.

Oh, says Louisa. I forgot.

Forgot your own mother, says Carol. And here I am with a turkey.

Turkey? says Louisa. Could you cook something a little less birdy?

What's it to you, if you're not coming? asks Carol.

We could all come, says Louisa. It'd save me an embarrassment. All I've got is sushi leftovers and popcorn.

Bring the popcorn, says Carol. How many friends are we talking?

Um... Sweezus, Arthur, Gaius and Reedy, says Louisa. And Terence, but he doesn't eat anything. At least he shouldn't. And there may be two ducks, but they'll find their own food.

I remember your friends, says Carol. It'll be nice to see them again. Where are they now?

Stokes Bay, says Louisa. In Reedy's caravan.

Cripes, they'll all be drunk, says Carol.

Let's hope not, says Louisa. I was planning to bring some wild gin.

Bring it anyway, says Carol.

So Christmas is sorted.

Louisa calls Arthur. 

Wha...? says Arthur. 

He sounds a bit out of it.

(Carol was right).

Crap Guardian

 In the stuffy interior of the blue caravan Sweezus's phone rings.

Woowa-uh! he wakes up.

Gaius? No way. Gaius is snoring, in a corner.

Terence! It must be!

Is that you little buddy? asks Sweezus. You in trouble?

Yes! says Terence. I'm outside.

I know you're outside, says Sweezus. Whereabouts exactly? 

OPEN THE DOOR! shouts Terence. I'm OUTSIDE!

Sweezus stumbles over Reedy and Arthur and lifts the door's wood-and-wire handle.

Bright light floods the caravan.

Terence steps inside.

Good, you're okay, says Sweezus. I was worried.

I wasn't worried, says Terence. I was something else. 

What was that? asks Sweezus.

I was up on the sand hill, says Terence. And I could see everything.

Cool, says Sweezus. So you got a perspective.

No, says Terence. I didn't. But Louisa said she'll find me a present.

Awesome, says Sweezus. So you've got something to look forward to, tomorrow.

But no parrots, says Terence.

Where are they? asks Sweezus.

Spinning on the water, says Terence.

Spinning, says Sweezus. Did they eat some of Reedy's mum's pastries?

No, says Terence. They're just spinning. 

You're better off without them, says Sweezus. I never liked birds.

You will one day, says Terence, because I do.

Wrong way round little buddy, says Sweezus. One day you won't, because I don't.

Shit man, says Reedy, who has been half awake listening. You his dad or something?

No way, says Sweezus. Sort of more like a crap guardian.

What's the difference? says Reedy.

Gaius sits up at this point. He too was half listening.

As to the ducks spinning, says Gaius, it's just what they do. They spin in pairs, on the water,  head to tail, and create a vortex which forces food up from the bottom.

That's freakin' clever, says Sweezus. Good on them.

See, says Terence.

 

Like A Bee-Sting

 How're they doing? asks Reedy.

Gone to look for fresh water, says Gaius. I gave Terence my phone.

I meant mum's pastries, says Reedy. Are they defrosted?

More than defrosted, says Gaius. We'd better eat them quickly.

I'll get a knife, says Reedy.

He cuts up the bienenstich, and hands it around.

Yum, says Sweezus. Tastes like a bee-sting.

It is a bee-sting, says Reedy.

You gave Terence your phone? says Arthur.

So he can call if he gets into trouble, says Gaius. 

Maybe we should call him, says Sweezus, licking honey and cream from his fingers.

He's with his Polynesias, says Gaius. He'll be all right.

You reckon they're reliable? asks Sweezus. 

We'll see, says Gaius. 

How come you're so laid back? asks Sweezus.

Maybe it's the beer, says Gaius. May I have another one?

Yes he may. Reedy is well stocked with ales and lagers.

The combination of rich sticky pastries, copious ale and the stuffy air in the tiny blue caravan sends them gradually into a stupor, and no one calls Terence.

Terence has made for the sand hills. From higher up, he should have a good view.

His duck-parrots have disappeared already.

Up up climbs Terence.

The sand is soft, and squeaky.

At last he reaches a high point.

Now he can see everything. The blue caravan, back there. The ocean, over that way, and a stretch of flat water over there. That's where the stupid ducks are. He can see them spinning round in a circle, on the water. Head to tail.

Yuck, says Terence. What are they doing that for? They're RUBBISH parrots. I wish I had a real parrot. Or even Saint Roley.

How good would it be if Saint Roley flew overhead right now?

But he doesn't.

Saint Roley has reached the lighthouse at the tip of Kangaroo Island. He has landed. He has knocked on the door. Captain du Couedic has opened it and welcomed Saint Roley.

Come in, come in! You must join us for our holiday festivities! What's this? A chocolate bar?

Saint Roley follows him in. No, it's the thermometer Sweezus promised you. It needs washing.

So I see, says Captain du Couedic. Baudin is upstairs, drinking rum. Bring it!

They climb the stairs. 

Sit, says Captain du Couedic. Let me pour you a rum. Help yourself to the savouries. The toppings are pickled mussels, peeled sea urchins and crab. Oh, and those ones are lobster. Ha ha. A little Christmas indulgence.

So lobsters do sometimes eat other lobsters.

But only at Christmas.

That's good to know.

Good No Bad

 Your Polynesias don't look happy,  says Gaius.

Terence looks at his two duck-parrots.

I'm getting a present tomorrow, says Terence.

The two duck-parrots open their beaks to say something.

Two flies fly out.

You burped up FLIES! says Terence. How do you do that?

They snapped up the flies that were buzzing round the pastries, says Gaius.

They should have kept them in, says Terence.

We don't like flies, say the duck-parrots.

So why did you let them go? asks Terence.

It wasn't out of kindness, says one duck-parrot. 

Good, says Terence. No, bad.

Don't judge us, says the other duck-parrot.

I wasn't, says Terence. 

How is good-no-bad not judging? asks a duck parrot.

Because it's equal, says Terence.

He has thought this up quickly.

The duck-parrots don't buy it. They still don't look happy.

I imagine you two would like to find some fresh water and search for some plankton, says Gaius.

Yes we would, say the duck-parrots. 

What once seemed pedestrian now seems more appealing, adds one.

We do sometimes have adventures, says Gaius.

Let's have one right now! says Terence.

Why don't you all go in search of the nearest fresh water, says Gaius. I'll give you my phone, Terence, so if you get into trouble you can call Sweezus. How's that?

Yay! says Terence. Let's go boys!

We're not both boys, says one duck-parrot.

Let's go guys, says Terence.

She sighs. 

Off they go, regardless.

Gaius knocks on the door of the blue caravan, it opens, he goes inside, with the tray of defrosted pastries.

Promises

Reedy has raided the freezer.

He has brought out some frozen pastries, on a flat tray.

They look nice, says Louisa. What are they?

Bethmännchen and bienenstich, says Reedy.

He goes back inside the blue caravan.

Creak!

Terence watches the pastries sweat in the sun. 

This is the worst Christmas ever, says Terence.

It's not Christmas till tomorrow, says Louisa. I'll find you a present.

Yay! says Terence. 

We can't eat these, says Polynesia, looking at the pastries.

You certainly can't, says Gaius. Do you eat insects?

We do, says Polynesia.

Well, look closely, says Gaius. 

There are flies on the pastry.

That does it, says Louisa. I'm not eating those. Coming Terence?

Okay, says Terence. Coming, parrots?

Not yet, say both Polynesias, eying the flies.

Reedy comes out with two beers and a red drink in a tea cup.

This is for you, little guy, says Reedy. 

What is it? asks Terence.

Ribena, says Reedy. It's got Vitamin C.

Drink it, and then we're leaving, says Louisa. 

Already? says Reedy. The pastries aren't even defrosted.

Flies, says Louisa.

What flies? asks Reedy.

Ducks ate them, says Louisa.

Well then, says Reedy.

Louisa finishes her beer. Okay. Now I'm going back to my place to get ready for Christmas. 

See ya. says Reedy. 

I'm going too, says Terence. And my parrots.

They're ducks, says Reedy. Is that what you're having? Ha ha! Only kidding.

You can all come, says Louisa. 

She sticks her head round the wooden door, and peers into the caravan.

Arthur and Sweezus are drinking beer, and picking at frozen baked apples.

My place tomorrow, for Christmas dinner, says Louisa. 

Cool, says Sweezus. What time?

Lunch time, says Louisa. Don't be late.

She heads for her bike on the other side of the sand hills.

Hey! She forgot me, says Terence.

Never mind, says Gaius. 

The Polynesia duck-parrots wonder how this is a life of adventure.

Blue Caravan

Ha ha, laughs Terence. One of you is Nothing.

Very good, says Gaius, also laughing.

The ducks don't get it.

Polynesia or Nothing, says Louisa.

We signed up for adventure, says Polynesia. 

Not this kind of nonsense, adds the other Polynesia.

It won't do, says Gaius. I imagine one of you is male and the other is female.

So do we, says Polynesia.

Reedy comes back from scanning the ocean.

No sharks visible, says Reedy. But they're tricky buggers.

Yeah, says Sweezus. We should call it a day. What d'ya reckon?

Okay, says Arthur. What'll we do?

Wanna come over to my mum's caravan? asks Reedy. She's left some food in the freezer. And there's beer in the fridge.

Where is it? asks Louisa.

Behind the sand hills, says Reedy. Mum's not in it. She's gone to visit some cousins in Adelaide.

We should be thinking of going back soon, says Gaius.

For Christmas? says Reedy. Better get moving. It's tomorrow.

Everyone freezes.

Tomorrow? How can that be?

Jeez, says Louisa. 

My birthday! says Terence. What am I getting?

Nothing little buddy, says Sweezus. 

Us, says Polynesia. 

Terence looks despondent.

What could be worse than a present you've already got?

Come to the caravan, says Reedy. 

Spogg seems to have vanished, which is lucky. It's a small caravan.

They tramp through the sand hills, the Polynesias half flying.

Hot soft sand. Long snaky grasses. Up down up down. 

There it is, an egg-shaped blue caravan with a wooden door made from three planks, a framed window with a metal grille, a pine cone stencilled on the wall next to a hand painted sign saying URLAUB.

Mum's German, says Reedy. Come inside.

They all cram inside. The small caravan lurches and settles.

Maybe some of us should sit outside, says Louisa. I don't mind. 

Yeah okay, says Reedy. I'll raid the freezer and bring out some food to defrost in the sun. You can keep an eye on it.

I'll sit outside with Louisa, says Gaius. 

What about us? ask the Polynesias.

Out! says Reedy. 

So Terence goes out too.

That's four in and four out of the caravan.

A good balance.

Polynesia Or Nothing

Follow me, says Terence. 

The pink-eared ducks look at one another.

We're in!

They follow Terence along the shore to a group of people.

Not Victor. He has left on police business.

Not Saint Roley. He has left on bird business

Hello Terence, says Gaius. I see you have found two new parrots.

The ducks look at one another again.

Fear not, ducks, says Gaius. I'm playing along with young Terence. I know a duck when I see one.

We understand, says the first duck, We have agreed to be taken on as parrots.

New parrots, little buddy? says Sweezus. They look cool.

Yes, says Terence. They have masks and zebra stripes and pink ears.

Those are not their real ears, says Gaius. Their real ears are lower.

The ducks look at one another for a third time.

Impressive.

I LOVE your pink ears, says Louisa.

Our real ears are lower, says the second duck.

I thought you agreed to this role play, says Louisa.

Excluding the ears, says the first duck.

Okay, says Louisa. I love your fake ears. 

We're not trying to be awkward, says the first duck.

Yeah, says Sweezus. Stick up for yourselves. You need ground rules with Terence.

Yes! says Terence. My rules are: do what I want.

Hold it, says Sweezus. Your parrots sometimes jack up. You need to find out what they will and won't do. And what their skills are.

What? says Terence.

And what our names are, says the first duck.

Malachorhynchus membrabaceus, says Gaius.

Call those NAMES? says the second duck.

No, says Terence. You need PARROT names.

We'll choose them, says the second duck.

I choose Polynesia, says the first duck.

Me too, says the second.

You can't both be Polynesia, says Terence.

But the ducks are adamant. Polynesia or nothing.

Do Not Intervene

Saint Roley has returned to Stokes Bay. 

Any luck? asks Gaius.

A ruddy turnstone and two pink-eared ducks, says Saint Roley. None of them suitable.

So you are the better parrot, says Gaius.

Metaphorically speaking, says Saint Roley. 

Of course, says Gaius. 

Where has Victor gone? asks Saint Roley.

Following a lead, says Gaius. He finally realised that the robber might have been the cleaner. He's going to examine the CCTV footage.

Will Arthur be on it? asks Saint Roley.

I imagine so, says Gaius.

Saint Roley hops over to Arthur, who is dabbing paw paw ointment onto his toe.

Do you still have that thermometer? asks Saint Roley.

Yes, says Arthur.

Would you like me to take it to Captain du Couedic, at the lighthouse? asks Saint Roley.

Why? asks Arthur. 

Something to do, says Saint Roley.

Okay, says Arthur. 

He takes the thermometer out of his pocket. It no longer looks like a normal thermometer. The chocolate tapenade and the paw paw ointment have combined to make a thick paste to which are stuck several dirty white feathers that Arthur collected years ago in Paris.

Urr, says Arthur. Better wipe it first.

Saint Roley goes down to the water, with the feathery thermometer.

He glances this way and that, thinking: Will it all come off in the water? Should he use sand?

He notices that Terence is still where he left him, some way up the beach. Two ducks are with him.

Good, thinks Saint  Roley. Or is it? But no. I will not intervene. 

Saint Roley flaps away discreetly, with the dirty thermometer. He will clean it up later.

Terence doesn't notice. He is interviewing the ducks.

The interview goes well. 

The ducks are a monogamous couple. They long for adventure. They can find their own food.

(Not that Terence was asking) 

Yay! They have zebra stripes, masks and pink-ears!

Into The Vortex

Saint Roley flies inland, looking for wetlands.

He spots a short stretch of water, and lands nearby.

Why am I doing this? thinks Saint Roley.

A pink-eared duck floats past, followed by another.

Here's a good spot, says the duck.

Let's do it, says the other. No wait, there's another bird here.

Don't let me stop you, says Saint Roley.

No, we're not doing it while you're here, says the second duck.

Then I'll be off, says Saint Roley, but first may I ask you a question?

Make it quick, says the first pink-eared duck.

Has either of you ever longed for adventure? asks Saint Roley.

All the time, says the first pink-eared duck.

Yes, says the other one.

Okay, says Saint Roley. That was my question. Now I'm off to deliver a thermometer.

You're a delivery bird? asks the first pink-eared duck. 

No, says Saint Roley. It's a favour.

You don't even have a thermometer, says the second duck.

I have to go and pick it up from my friends in Stokes Bay, says Saint Roley. 

So why are you here asking questions? asks the second duck.

That's what I ask myself, says Saint Roley. Why do I bother?

Bother to do what? asks the second duck. You may as well tell us.

There's an infant back there at Stokes Bay who wants a new parrot, says Saint Roley. A pink-eared duck was suggested. 

The ducks laugh.

Yes, says Saunt Roley. It is funny. That's why I'm not going to ask you. But it was pleasant to meet you.

And you, says the first pink-eared duck. 

Saint Roley flies back to Stokes Bay, At least he has a plan now.

The ducks have two options.

1. Continue with what they were planning to do (vortexing).

2. Apply for the job as a parrot.

Look Of A Killer

I told you not to do it, says the ruddy turnstone.

Sorry, says Terence.

The midges have all flown away.

He has nice manners, says the ruddy turnstone.

Tell him, says Saint Roley. Not me.

You have nice manners, says the ruddy turnstone.

What are they? asks Terence.

Saying sorry, says the ruddy turnstone. Not many people do that.

I say it when I kill things, says Terence. Or if I get caught.

Very wise, says the ruddy turnstone. It's disarming.

Terence looks at his arms.

You don't have the look of a killer, says the ruddy turnstone.

It was an accident, says Terence. That's why I need a new parrot.

Let me think, says the ruddy turnstone. Who would make a good parrot? 

A red bird, says Terence. Or a green and red bird. Or a blue and yellow one. Not a balloon one.

He is thinking of parrots he's had.

What about a pink-eared duck? asks the ruddy turnstone.

YES! cries Terence. 

Are there any around here? asks Saint Roley.

Not on the beach, says the ruddy turnstone. A few have been spotted inland.

Let's go! says Terence.

I'll go, says Saint Roley. It'll be quicker. What do these pink-eared ducks look like? 

Brown back, zebra side stripes, white face, black eye patches, pink ears, says the ruddy turnstone. And a shovel shaped bill.

Don't tell it I stepped on the last one, says Terence. And it died.

I won't mention it, says Saint Roley.

He flies off, heading inland.

I had hoped you'd go too, says the ruddy turnstone.

I'll wait here with you, says Terence.

Don't turn over any stones, says the ruddy turnstone. Let me do it.

Okay, says Terence, kicking a heap of dried sea grass.

More midges emerge and zoom off.

Bitter Better Bird

Terence catches up with Saint Roley, not far down the beach.

A better bird, mutters Saint Roley.

Where? asks Terence. Is it that one?

He points to a ruddy bird, which is some distance away, turning stones.

No bird is better than any other, says Saint Roley.

Wrong! says Terence. A dead one isn't better.

True, says Saint Roley. I shouldn't only think of myself. I'm just smarting from what Gaius said.

He can't make you be my parrot, says Terence. What if I ask you nicely?

Ask me nicely, says Saint Roley.

Will you be my parrot until I find a better one? asks Terence.

That's the same question, says Saint Roley. I object to the word better.

How about bitter? asks Terence.

I am, says Saint Roley. It seems no one has noticed my attempts at self improvement.

Or butter? asks Terence.

Tss! says Saint Roley. Let us proceed and find out if that bird is a better one.

They approach the bird, a stocky wader with orange-red legs.

Hello, says Saint Roley. It's a fine day for turning rocks over. 

Any day is a fine day for turning rocks over, says the wader.

Can I do it? asks Terence.

No, says the wader. Not unless you like eating larval flies and midges.

I like finding them, says Terence.

Let him do it, says Saint Roley.

Who are you? asks the wader. And who is he?

I am Saint Roley, says Saint Roley, and this is Terence. He is seeking a better bird, to be his new parrot.

There are no better birds, says the wader.

That's what I say, says Saint Roley. And therefore any bird that was willing would suit the position.

I am not willing, says the bird. I don't even live here. I'm from the far northern regions.

There you are, Terence, says Saint Roley. This bird is no better.

But Terence isn't listening. He is turning rocks over, exposing hundreds of midges, which are flying away.

The Slice Up

Did you kill Baby-Glossy? asks Louisa.

Certainly not, says Victor. I'm a policeman.

Terence said you cut him in half, says Louisa.

I did, but he was already dead, says Victor.

I can attest to that, says Gaius. I buried him earlier.

So what happened? asks Sweezus.

It was an accident, says Terence. By me.

Bad luck, says Sweezus. I bet you stepped on him. 

Right! says Terence. I was jumping down off a bench and he was where I landed.

So you need a new parrot, says Sweezus.

And you think it should be me, says Saint Roley.

Gaius said, says Terence.

It would only be temporary, says Gaius. Until he finds a better one.

A better one! says Saint Roley. I'll find him a better one. Terence, come with me.

Saint Roley stalks off down the beach. Terence follows.

Victor starts questioning Arthur.

Victor (whipping out his plastic bag of evidence): Do you recognise this thermometer?

Arthur: I left it with Gaius. 

Victor: Can you explain how you came by it?

Arthur: The cleaner at the chemist.

Victor: Cleaner?

Arthur: He gave it to me.

Victor: Just the one?

Arthur: Just the one. 

Reedy: What about the one you used to poke the filling back into the sushi?

Victor: You don't get to ask questions, Reedy. What about it, Arthur?

Arthur: The other one's for Captain du Coeudic. When he gets it, it'll be paid for.

Victor: I'll need to see the receipt.

Arthur: Sure, no problem.

Victor puts his evidence away. 

He has done his duty and achieved a postponement.

And everyone seems to have forgotten that he sliced up Baby-Glossy.

Brainstorms

What'd he say? asks Sweezus, when Saint Roley returns to the shore.

He expects to make a killing, says Saint Roley.

In a good way or a bad way? asks Sweezus.

Good way, says Saint Roley. I told him about the Jaffas.

What about the sea weed? asks Louisa.

Yes, he asked about that, says Saint Roley. I skirted the subject.

Cool, says Sweezus. Thanks. You bought us some time. Is he still out there?

No, says Saint Roley. He's probably gone off to order more seaweed.

The unwanted ingredient, says Sweezus. 

We can work with it, says Arthur.

Yeah? says Sweezus. 

Think outside the box, says Arthur.

Okay, says Sweezus. Start thinking.

Red sushi socks, says Arthur.

Like what, knitting? asks Sweezus.

Fab idea, says Louisa. Or weaving. Then we don't need such long fibres.

Mind if I put my oar in? says Reedy.

Go ahead, says Sweezus. 

People like FOOD, says Reedy. We would've binged on choc-orange sushi.

Yeah, says Spogg. But people also need socks.

It doesn't have to be socks, says Arthur. Could be something harder.

Harder, as in shoes? asks Louisa. I don't think so.

That seaweed brick you boiled up was pretty hard, says Sweezus. We could make plates and sell them.

Plates? says Arthur. No one buys plates.

You'd be surprised, says Louisa.

The brainstorming has been useful.

Now Victor and Gaius wheel their bicycles onto the sand.

Terence, who has been let out of Gaius's back pack, runs towards Sweezus.

Guess what!

What? asks Sweezus. 

Saint Roley has to be my new parrot! says Terence.

Saint Roley looks up. What's this?

He had been thinking of leaving.

Baby-Glossy died! says Terence. I don't have a parrot.

He DIED! says Louisa. What happened?

Victor cut him in half, says Terence.

I don't believe it! says Louisa. 

Victor walks up. Hello all. Nice day for surfing. I have a few questions for Arthur. 

He stops talking.

Why is everyone looking at him as though he's a criminal?

Irrelevant Cows

Saint Roley flutters down.

How do your friends like the new sushi?

They don't, says Sweezus. But that's because of the paw paw.

You don't say? says Saint Roley. Well, that is a problem.

We know, says Louisa. But we can fix it.

Yeah, says Spogg. If it just had the orange without the paw paw.

And more chocolate, says Reedy.

But not the red hairy seaweed, says Spogg.

Yeah, it'd taste like a Jaffa, says Reedy. I used to love them.

Me too, says Spogg. You can't get them these days.

Saint Roley looks back out to sea.

You know who's out there?

Sweezus and Arthur look too.

Great White Teacher is making a show of himself beyond the break, along with his sidekicks.

He asked me about the sushi, says Saint Roley. I said I'd find out.

Bugger, says Sweezus. Okay, tell him the taste test went well.

Which it didn't, says Reedy. 

Are you going back out? asks Sweezus.

Not if there's sharks, says Reedy.

So tell him, says Sweezus, to Saint Roley.

All right, says Saint Roley.

He flies out to where Great White Teacher is waiting.

What news? asks Great White Teacher.

Sweezus says it went well, says Saint Roley. The tasters made some useful suggestions.

Good, says Great White Teacher. Did they specifically mention my seaweed?

O yes, says Saint Roley. It seems it doesn't have quite the effect on humans that it has on cows.

As in? asks Great White Teacher.

Saint Roley wishes he hadn't mentioned it. But no. He can do this for Sweezus. It won't be a lie.

It reminded them of Jaffas, says Saint Roley. And they used to love Jaffas.

Jaffas, eh? says Great White Teacher. What are they?

Sweets, I think, says Saint Roley.

Ha ha, laughs Great White Teacher. Sweets! So much for cow farts! We're going to make a killing.

Mm, says Saint Roley.

He flies back to let Sweezus know that Great White Teacher expects to make a killing. 

Paw Paw Flaw

What d'ya reckon? asks Sweezus.

Reedy takes a second bite of the red hairy sushi.

Yeah.... says Reedy. It's okay. What's in the filling?

Something greasy, says Spogg. It's coated my palate.

Maybe that's the chocolate, says Sweezus.

Or the olive oil, says Louisa.

Nah, says Spogg, tastes like paw paw.

No way, says Sweezus. How about orange?

Yeah orange, says Spogg, but also paw paw.

Yeah, says Reedy.

Okay, but would you eat it again? asks Sweezus. 

I don't reckon, says Spogg. Have you got any water?

Here, says Louisa, offering him some water.

He drinks.

I can't understand why it tasted of paw paw, says Louisa.

Um, says Arthur. There's paw paw ointment in my pocket.

Where the thermometer was! says Louisa. I asked you to wash it!

I washed it, says Arthur. But it's greasy. It might not have come off.

What's this got to do with the sushi? asks Reedy.

I'm awfully sorry, says Louisa, but the filling oozed out on our way here and I pushed it back in with Arthur's thermometer which was contaminated by paw paw ointment in his pocket.

Epic fail! says Spogg. Burrrp!

Even more epic fail, says Reedy. Wasn't it supposed to stop you burping and farting?

That was cows, says Sweezus.

Great, says Reedy. 

I didn't fart, to be fair, says Spogg.

Paino Shocklat

Meanwhile, Sweezus, Arthur and Louisa have arrived at Stokes Bay.

Where are they? asks Louisa. 

Maybe that's them out there, says Sweezus. I'll paddle out and see.

Okay, says Louisa. Tell them it's best eaten fresh.

Maybe don't tell them, says Arthur.

Yes, maybe don't, says Louisa. Let's check it.

She unwraps the red hairy sushi. 

Chocolate tapenade oozes out from both ends of the roll.

Give it here, says Arthur. You go, bro.

Yeah I'll go, says Sweezus. You fix the filling.

Sweezus paddles out to the break.

Got a knife? asks Louisa.

Got a thermometer, says Arthur.

He pulls out the thermometer, which glints in the sunshine.

But not as much as might be expected, if it were clean.

Yuck, says Louisa. Go and wash it.

So that is what is happening when Saint Roley flies in.

He flies over Sweezus who has not yet reached Spogg and Reedy.

He lands next to Arthur, who is washing the thermometer.

Hello, says Saint Roley. How did they like it?

They haven't tried it yet, says Arthur. The filling's oozed out.

Ah, says Saint Roley, and you're washing the thermometer because?

It was dirty, says Arthur. And Louisa wants to use it to poke the filling back in.

Better hurry, says Saint Roley. They're coming.

Arthur looks up.

They are.

Want me to delay them? asks Saint Roley.

Yes, says Arthur. We could use a few extra minutes.

He wipes the thermometer on his shorts, and heads back to Louisa.

Saint Roley flies out over the water and lands on the blunt end of Sweezus's board.

Shit! says Sweezus. 

It's me, says Saint Roley. Are these your surfing friends?

Yeah, says Sweezus. Reedy, Spogg, this is Saint Roley.

You're kidding, says Spogg.

No, says Sweezus. I've known him for like, ever. He's French. From Saint Malo.

No way! says Reedy. Bonjon!

There is no such French as bonjon, says Saint Roley. 

What? says Reedy. I remember bonjon from year eight. It means like hello or something.

Nah, says Spogg. That's bonjoo. Bonjon is like a croissant with jam and cream. They have them for breakfast.

Rarely, says Saint Roley. It's more likely to be pain au chocolat.

Hear that? says Reedy. Paino shocklat.

Well it was nice to meet you, says Saint Roley. I mustn't delay you. Were you heading in for lunch? I smell something wafting over the waves.

Yeah, says Sweezus. That'll be our new revised sushi.

I'm starving, says Reedy.

Enjoy, says Saint Roley. 

They paddle to shore, where Louisa has done a great job of remoulding the sushi.

 

Three Spelling Errors

This mood stone, says Victor. You say it came from the chemist?

Yes, says Terence. But he wasn't a chemist.

Never mind that, says Victor. It's evidence. I shall have to seize it.

You already have, says Terence.

I mean officially, says Victor. It's going in this plastic bag with the thermometer.

No gloves? says Gaius.

Too late for gloves, says Victor. I've been holding the mood stone for several minutes. What does it mean when it's green?

Mixed emotions, says Gaius. Which is a bit of a cop out.

Now you're being funny, says Victor.

Not at all... oh....yes....ha ha, laughs Gaius. A cop out. However what I meant was, it's not specified which emotions are mixed.

I should say, at this moment, frustration, exasperation, bamboozlement and calm, says Victor.

Calm? says Gaius. That's a fine one.

Police training, says Victor. Now am I correct in thinking there were two thermometers and Arthur has the other one and that Arthur has gone to Stokes Bay?

Your police training is impeccable, says Gaius. 

Then I shall go to Stokes Bay to interview Arthur, says Victor. 

Can I come? asks Terence.

We'll both come, says Gaius. We've no reason to stay.

Very well, says Victor. Are you ready to leave right away?

Yes, says Terence. No! Can we bring Baby-Glossy?

Certainly not, says Gaius. Especially now he's in two separate pieces.

Just one piece of him? asks Terence.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. Let the poor little chap rest in peace!

Agreed, says Victor. You cover him with dirt while I write a few notes in my notebook.

He writes: Evidence siezed: One themometer, one mood stone of inderterminate colour.

Three spelling errors! Don't blame me. Blame Victor.

Gaius reburies Baby-Glossy.

Terence watches him do it.

I've lost EVERYTHING! says Terence. Baby-Glossy, two Ears, and Peut-être. And even my mood stone.

You may get the stone back, says Victor. If I discover it wasn't stolen, you may request it in writing.

Wah! cries Terence. I can't do writing.

I'll do the writing, says Gaius. And I'm sure Saint Roley will act as your temporary parrot until you find another.

He won't, says Terence.

He will, says Gaius, firmly.

So Terence is happy. Very happy. If he were holding the mood stone, and if he were not made of cement, it would surely turn from green back to purple.

Control Bird

 Wah! cries Terence. You cut Baby-Glossy in half!

You buried Baby-Glossy? says Victor.

He had died, says Gaius. 

In what circumstances? asks Victor.

Never mind, says Gaius.

It was an accident, says Terence. 

Let me be the judge of that, says Victor. You know he was endangered?

No need to be funny, says Gaius.

I was not....begins Victor.

He was only in danger at the last minute, says Terence. Just before my foot squashed him.

You stepped on Baby-Glossy, says Victor. At the very least, that was clumsy.

I was getting something for Gaius, says Terence.

I might have known, says Victor. What was it?

This line of questioning will get you nowhere, says Gaius. I suggest you ask Terence about the cleaner who gave him the mood stone that you uncovered.

We thought he was the chemist, says Terence.

This mood stone? asks Victor.  

He is still holding it. It is no longer purple, but green, which suggests mixed emotions.

Yes, says Terence. It changes colour. Look, it's turned green! I made it go purple when I was sad about killing Baby-Glossy but mainly it stays brown for me, that's why I was doing the experiment.

Oh yes, what is this experiment? asks Victor.

He is not a good policeman. He has missed the clue about the cleaner.

I made it up, says Terence. Gaius said I could. 

What is it? asks Victor. Is there a hypothesis?

No, says Terence. A thermometer and a mood stone and a dead parrot.

I imagine there is a hypothesis, says Gaius. I told him that the colour of the mood stone could be related to temperature.

So he buried it, says Victor. Why on top of the bird?

I imagine the bird is the control, says Gaius. Being dead, it has no emotions, and is the same temperature as the earth.

Not if it is the process of decomposing, says Victor.

You have certainly helped that along, says Gaius.

Terence looks down into the hole, at the two parts of Baby-Glossy.

Two parts. It's not that bad really.

Baby-Glossy is two with the earth.

Damn No Gloves

Step away, says Victor.

What is? asks Terence.

What is what? asks Victor.

A step away, says Terence.

I am asking you to step away from that thermometer, says Victor.

This way? asks Terence, stepping backwards.

That way will be fine, says Victor. Now where did that thermometer come from?

The kitchen, says Terence.

Before that, says Victor.

Arthur had it, says Terence.

Aha! Victor makes a note of the statement.

And why are you burying it? asks Victor.

It's an experiment, says Terence. 

A cover-up more likely, says Victor.

Yes, a cover-up, says Terence. You are a smart policeman.

You admit it's a cover-up, says Victor.

You said it was, says Terence. 

So did you, says Victor.

But what is it covering up? asks Terence. Not this thermometer.

There are others? asks Victor, making more notes.

No, says Terence. No more thermometers. 

Victor seizes the trowel that Gaius has left near the burial mound in which the thermometer is sticking.

He removes the thermometer and places it in a plastic bag that he keeps handy for evidence.

Damn, says Victor. No gloves.

What's this? asks Gaius, who has given up on the brown falcon.

I've contaminated the evidence, says Victor.

What was it? asks Gaius.

A thermometer, says Victor.

Terence, did you take that thermometer from the kitchen table? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Terence. For my experiment.

So he claims, says Victor. But he has also admitted it's part of a cover-up.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. It is. Why don't you start digging.

Victor starts digging. 

Ding! He encounters the mood stone.

He seizes the mood stone, which turns purple.

He is either very sad or very happy.

What have we here! cries Victor, triumphant.

(very happy)

Terence's experiment, says Gaius. Let him explain it. 

Victor keeps digging.

He believes he is about to discover a cache of stolen thermometers.

Any minute....

Swersh! The trowel slices right through dead Baby-Glossy.

Who Has Not Yet Become

Terence is playing with his mood stone, which has reverted to brown.

Brown again, is it? says Gaius.

Yes, says Terence. I've lost all my feelings.

I believe it has more to do with temperature, than your feelings, says Gaius. Why don't you try an experiment?

Okay, says Terence. What will it be?

You must think up your own experiment, says Gaius.

Okay, says Terence. Leave it to me.

He goes back into the kitchen and takes the thermometer from the table.

He returns to the garden.

Gaius is squinting at the sky.

Did he just see....or didn't he.... a brown falcon?

Terence goes across to the burial mound, where lies Baby Glossy.

He pokes a hole in the dirt.

Yerk! what's that soft thing?

Must be dead Baby-Glossy, who has not yet become one with the garden.

He shortens the hole, by sprinkling more dirt on dead Baby-Glossy.

He places his mood stone on top of the newly sprinkled dirt.

Then he fills the hole in.

Now he sticks the thermometer into the dirt he has just filled the hole with.

It seems, to Terence, to be an excellent experiment.

He has just finished setting it up when Victor the policeman arrives.

Good morning, Gaius, says Victor. Where is Sweezus?

Gone to Stokes Bay, says Gaius. So has Arthur. But not before they explained to me the entire situation.

So you know Sweezus is a suspect, says Victor.

Sweezus has an alibi. He was here all the time, says Gaius. It was Arthur who....

Arthur isn't a suspect, says Victor.

Perhaps he should be, says Gaius. If you did your job properly, you would know that Arthur went to the chemist this morning and returned with two thermometers, one of which is on the table in the kitchen, for you to recover.

What about the other one? asks Victor.

He plans to pay for it later, says Gaius.

Oh does he? says Victor. Well, he is now a suspect. And it's not just two thermometers that are missing.

So I hear, says Gaius. But Arthur did not take them.

How do you know? asks Victor. You weren't there.

Terence was with him, says Gaius. Ask Terence.

Victor goes over to Terence.

Aha! What have we here?

It appears to Victor, (and who can blame him?), that Terence is attempting to bury the evidence.

Un By Un

Can you write my poem down? asks Terence.

All right, says Gaius. What is it?

Titty laritty tonton, says Terence. That's the first line.

Very good, says Gaius. That evokes Baby-Glossy for us in a musical manner.

He writes: Titty laritty tonton.

Next line? How about: now that Baby-Glossy has gone?

Where has he gone? asks Terence.

Perhaps not, says Gaius. The rhyme comes too early.

But where has he gone? asks Terence.

I buried him over there, says Gaius.

In the DIRT? says Terence.

Of course in the dirt, says Gaius. He will decompose and become one with the garden.

He won't like that, says Terence.

He will, says Gaius. Now, you think about the next line while I bird-spot.

Gaius settles back on the bench and looks up at the sky.

What luck! Two rainbow bee eaters!

In search of bees, doubtless.

He writes down the Latin name, being that sort of person.

Terence stomps over to the dirt spot where Baby-Glossy is buried.

He addresses the ex-baby-parrot directly:

Titty laritty tonton

I'm sorry, Baby-Glossy.

Sorry I squashed you

Because you were there 

When my feet came down 

Because Gaius asked me

To get him the notebook

So it was really his fault.

Now you're not going anywhere.

You will be one with the garden.

I'll tell you what that means

Your bits will drop off.

Un by un.

Un by un! says Gaius That is most fitting! I have recorded it, verbatim, in my notebook, never mind that it follows my list of birds recently spotted, including the purple crested lorikeets and the rainbow bee eaters, or should I say the.....

( he continues, mainly in Latin ).

 

Stay Purple

Sweezus, Arthur and Louisa have cycled half way to Stokes Bay when Sweezus's phone rings.

Gaius! says Sweezus. What's up?

It's me, Terence, says Terence. Gaius is letting me use his phone.

So what's up? asks Sweezus. Are you and Gaius bird spotting?

Bird squashing, says Terence.

What's that? asks Sweezus. 

I'll tell you after the good news, says Terence.

What's the good news? asks Sweezus. 

I had a MOOD! says Terence. It was purple.

Purple, says Sweezus. What's that, happy?

Sad, says Terence.

I don't reckon it is, says Sweezus. I'll ask Arthur. 

He asks Arthur, who is right alongside him.

Purple means very happy, says Arthur.

Hear that? says Sweezus.

I'm not very happy, says Terence.

Why not, little buddy? asks Sweezus.

I squashed Baby-Glossy, says Terence.

As in ... now he's cactus? asks Sweezus.

Wah! says Terence. It was my fault even though Gaius says it wasn't.

You should believe Gaius, says Sweezus. 

What do you know? asks Terence. I jumped onto him from a bench he was under.

Was he just coming out? asks Sweezus. Sounds like an accident.

It was an accident, says Terence. But I made the accident. 

Good you're telling me, says Sweezus. Now put it behind you.

I'm doing a poem, says Terence.

That's awesome, says Sweezus. 

Gaius has already done one, says Terence.

Gaius? says Sweezus. What's his?

Baby-Glossy knew French and died under a bench, says Terence, summarising freely.

You can do better than that, says Sweezus.

I can't, says Terence. That's why I'm calling.

You want me to help you? says Sweezus. Okay. What's the first thing you think of when you remember Baby-Glossy?

Titty-laritty-tonton, says Terence.

Cool, says Sweezus. That was that sailor song he liked singing. Start off with that. 

Yay! says Terence. I've got my first line!

Yep! See how you go now. Stay purple, says Sweezus.

Terence wonders which purple, but it's too late to ask, because Sweezus has ended the call.

Death Of A Parrot

Sorry! Sorry! cries Terence.

But too late. He has crushed Baby-Glossy.

He looks at Gaius.

Gaius picks up crushed Baby-Glossy.

I blame myself, says Gaius.

Why? asks Terence. 

I agreed to him hiding under the bench, says Gaius. 

It was my idea, says Terence.

But I should have made sure he was not directly under your feet, says Gaius. 

Me too, says Terence. Now I've killed my parrot.

Nothing to be done, says Gaius. I'll bury him. You go inside and bring me my notebook.

Are we going to write him a poem? asks Terence.

No... well yes, why not? says Gaius. It's the least we can do for Baby-Glossy. Although I admit, I'm not good at poems.

I am, says Terence. Let's both do one.

Wonderful, says Gaius.

Terence goes inside, to look for the notebook.

Gaius starts digging with a trowel that Louisa has left nearby, next to a pot.

Terence finds the notebook. He even finds a pencil.

He sees his mood stone on the table. Will he try it? He must surely have feelings right now.

He picks up the mood stone which turns purple. 

Yippee!

(This may seem remarkable, but we must not forget Terence has been out in the sunshine).

He goes back outside, with the notebook, the pencil and the mood stone.

Look ! says Terence.

Gaius looks up from burying Baby-Glossy.

It's purple!

So it is, says Gaius. That must mean you're sad.

(Fortunately he does not know that purple indicates very happy).

Have you thought of a poem? asks Terence.

Working on it, says Gaius. How's this:

Here lies Baby-Glossy, who fell out of a sheoak

Raised by humans, and taught to speak English

And one word of French.

 Much loved was Baby-Glossy, whose life was cut short

When Terence crushed him

Jumping down from a bench.

That's good, says Terence. Except you left out I didn't do it on purpose, and it was really your fault.

I'll leave that to you, says Gaius.

Birds Love Me

Ten minutes, says Gaius. And not a single bird has appeared in the garden.

What about me? asks Baby-Glossy.

And me, says Saint Roley.

Perhaps you two are the problem, says Gaius. 

Perhaps we are, says Saint Roley. The other birds, having spotted us from a distance, are keeping away.

Get under the seat, says Terence. Birds love me.

That is debatable, says Gaius. But let's try it. That is, if Saint Roley and Baby-Glossy are willing.

I am not willing, says Saint Roley. I would find it demeaning. I shall fly back to Stokes Bay, and see how the sushi-tasting is going.

Fair enough, says Gaius. What about you, Baby-Glossy?

Are you coming with me? asks Saint Roley.

What is the meaning of demeaning? asks Baby-Glossy.

Ha ha! laughs Terence. The meaning of de meaning. That's a good one.

Am I un good un? says Baby-Glossy. 

A good one, says Gaius. 

Baby-Glossy decides he will stay, if Gaius and Terence think he's a good un.

 He hops down from the stone bench and tucks himself under it, looking out between Gaius's legs and Terence's toes.

Saint Roley flies off, glad to be solo.

Four purple crowned lorikeets fly past him in the opposite direction.

Saint Roley ignores them.

Let them go where they like.

The four purple crowned lorikeets are looking for apricots.

There are none in Louisa's back garden.

The lorikeets fly over the garden.

Look! says Gaius. Four purple crowned lorikeets, flying over!

Where? asks Terence.

Up there! says Gaius. Drat. I should have brought my notebook. I left it inside.

I'll get it, says Terence. I want to get my mood stone.

He drops down from the stone bench, rather heavily.

Crunch! He lands on Baby-Glossy.

Thermometer Mystery

The kitchen smells of orange and chocolate, with undertones of seaweed.

There is a plate of hairy red sushi, on the table.

Everyone looks at Terence.

Don't worry, I KNOW! says Terence. 

You are a bad un, says Baby Glossy. You have no feelings. Ear is no more.

I do have feelings, says Terence. Brown feelings.

Aw, says Louisa. 

Woa, little buddy, says Sweezus.

Brown means nothing, says Arthur. Not even normal.

What're you talking about? asks Sweezus.

He's got a mood stone, says Arthur. 

Hold out your hand, says Terence.

Sweezus holds out his hand.

Terence places the mood stone on his palm.

It turns pink.

Pink, says Arthur. 

What's pink? asks Terence.

Cool, says Arthur. 

Are you making that up? asks Sweezus. 

No, says Arthur. It's official.

Give it to me! cries Terence.

Sweezus gives Terence the mood stone, which turns brown immediately.

Too slow, says Terence.

Where'd you get that? asks Sweezus.

The chemist, says Arthur. And here's the thermometer.

Yeah, thanks, says Sweezus. We need to talk about that.

I didn't steal it. says Arthur. I said I'd pay for it later, but it turned out I was talking to the cleaner.

Am I to understand you didn't pay? asks Gaius. No wonder Victor has been asking questions.

Yeah, says Sweezus. He knows I told Captain du Couedic I'd replace his thermometer. So he thought it was me.

What was you? asks Arthur.

The burglar, says Sweezus. Whoever it was cleaned out the chemist's entire stock of thermometers.

Lucky I got these before that happened, says Arthur.

These? says Sweezus. I thought you only got ONE.

Two, says Arthur. I'd already got one when the cleaner gave me another one. 

That's clear as mud, says Louisa. Why don't we three go back to Stokes Bay with the sushi, and leave one thermometer here. Gaius can give it to Victor when he comes by.

How am I to explain it? asks Gaius.

Arthur's already explained it, says Louisa. 

Arthur, Sweezus and Louisa are through the door in seconds, with the sushi wrapped in cling wrap, heading for Stokes Bay.

Gaius is left with Terence, Baby Glossy, Saint Roley, in Louisa's kitchen.

This is a time waster, says Gaius. I had hoped to get out and spot birds.

Then let's sit in the garden, says Saint Roley.

Excellent idea, says Gaius.

They go outside and sit on a stone bench under a peppermint gum.

The mood stone and the thermometer remain inside, on the kitchen table.

They soon find they have much in common.

Orange Means Lovable

Arthur and Terence arrive at Louisa's.

Saint Roley is waiting, outside the front door.

Guess what I got? says Terence.

Not a compass? asks Saint Roley.

Correct, says Terence. Not a compass, but I got a mood stone and I'm going to test it on Sweezus to see if he's cool.

Or stressed, says Arthur. Or fearful or nervous or normal or relaxed or calm or lovable or passionate or happy.

I imagine he's somewhere in the top three, says Saint Roley.

Why, what's happened? asks Arthur.

That's why I'm here, says Saint Roley. To warn you.

Go ahead, warn us, says Arthur.

Well, says Saint Roley, looking at Terence. Remember the Ear?

Course I do, says Terence. And guess what? Arthur found out that orange means lovable.

Focus, says Saint Roley. Remember that Louisa was going to do something with the grater?

No, says Terence. 

Yes, says Arthur. Let me guess. She grated the Ear.

Only gradually, says Saint Roley. 

My Ear? says Terence. I was going to tell him that orange means lovable because he was orange.

He was, says Saint Roley. Now he's more of a flavour.

In the sushi? asks Arthur. 

Yes, in the sushi, says Saint Roley. 

What about Sweezus? asks Arthur.

Victor wants him to answer some questions, says Saint Roley. He's waiting for you.

Questions about what? asks Arthur.

Some items have gone missing from the chemist, says Saint Roley. 

Woo! says Terence. We were just there. It's where I got this.

He shows Saint Roley the mood stone.

Saint Roley brushes it with a wing tip.

It turns orange.

One I Could Be

That was good, says Arthur.

He and Terence are walking back to Louisa's.

No it wasn't, says Terence. I didn't get a compass.

But you got a mood stone, says Arthur.

It doesn't work, says Terence.

He shows Arthur his mood stone.

It's still brown.

Give it here, says Arthur.

The mood stone turns purple.

Look, says Arthur. It's changed colour. Now you try.

He returns the mood stone to Terence.

It turns brown.

What's a mood? asks Terence.

Sullen, says Arthur. 

Is that what you are? asks Terence.

Not these days, says Arthur. I used to be sometimes at school.

What's another one? asks Terence. One I could be.

You said you wanted to be cool, says Arthur.

But how do you BE cool? asks Terence.

You just are, says Arthur. Sweezus is cool.

Well I'm going to test him, says Terence.

Good idea, says Arthur. 

Is it? says Terence.

Yes, says Arthur. Does that make you feel happy?

YES! says Terence.  

He looks at his mood stone.

Brown.

No, says Terence. I'm not happy.

Give it to me again, says Arthur. I'll make myself run through a mix of emotions.

Arthur can do that, being a poet.

Into the furious lashings of the tides I danced on the eternal rollers of victims...says Arthur.

What? asks Terence.

Pretending to be a boat, says Arthur.

Let's see if it worked, says Terence. 

They look at the stone.

Green!

It works, says Arthur. But I wonder what green means.

He realises he could find out by googling mood stones.

Blue For Cool

Terence has not found a compass.

You could buy one online, says the chemist.

Wah! says Terence. I couldn't.

Not you, a grown up, says the chemist. Ask your dad over there.

Ha ha! laughs Terence. That's not my dad. That's Arthur.

Ask him, says the chemist. Meanwhile, how would you like me to find you a mood stone?

What is it? asks Terence.

It changes colour as your mood changes, says the chemist. Blue for cool, red for angry.

The chemist has no idea really.

Yes, says Terence. Give me a moon stone.

MOOD stone, says the chemist. There should be a few in this basket.

The chemist lets Terence choose his own mood stone.

It's easy because they're all brown.

That's because nobody owns them, says the chemist. But yours will soon get to know you.

Good, says Terence. Then I'll know if I'm COOL.

Arthur stands up. How much do I owe you?

Fifteen dollars, says the chemist. And I'll throw in a digital thermometer. There's not much call for them nowadays.

Thanks, says Arthur. Can I drop by and pay later?

Sure. Pay the chemist, says the chemist.

Funny. Why would the chemist say pay the chemist?

He'll be here soon, says the chemist who may not be a chemist.

Gotta finish the cleaning before he gets here, adds the definitely-not-chemist.

Sure, says Arthur. I thought you were the chemist.

No, I'm the....err....cleaner, says the cleaner.

Arthur and Terence leave with the bandage, the pawpaw ointment, two digital thermometers and a mood stone.

The cleaner leaves shortly after, through a back door.

Perhaps It's A Chemist

Are we WALKING? asks Terence.

It's not far, says Arthur.

Better not be, says Terence. Or you'd have to carry me. 

You don't have to come, says Arthur.

But I want a compass, says Terence. And you might forget.

Do you know what a compass is? asks Arthur.

Yes, says Terence. It was in one of the stories.

Baby-Glossy is not here to tell Arthur it wasn't.

What is it then? asks Arthur.

What if you were a swan? says Terence.

I wouldn't need one, says Arthur.

That's right, says Terence.

They are passing the tennis courts. It's hot already. No one is playing tennis.

After the tennis courts, a row of shops. The one on the end is the chemist.

The chemist is shut. They look through the window.

There is someone inside.

Perhaps it's a chemist. The door opens.

Not open yet, says the chemist. Oh! What happened to you?

Sharks, says Arthur. I need a new bandage.

Come in, says the chemist. Sit down.

And a thermometer, says Arthur.

Oops! says the chemist. A thermometer. What for?

A replacement, says Arthur. But first I need a waterproof bandage, so I can go surfing.

That's very sensible, says the chemist. Blood attracts sharks.

I know, says Arthur. 

Have you got a compass? asks Terence.

No, I don't, says the chemist. But I do have a thermometer. Just wait while I find a waterproof bandage.

The chemist goes behind the counter, and rummages through a box of wrapped bandages.

Comes back with a wrapped bandage.

Thanks, says Arthur, shoving it into his pocket.

Would you like me to get you some ointment? asks the chemist.

Here's some! says Terence. He picks a red tube from a shelf.

Pawpaw ointment.

That's good stuff, says the chemist. Will you have it? 

Yes, says Arthur. Now can I see your thermometers?

Sure, says the chemist. Digital? Non contact?

Let's see them all, says Arthur.

The chemist brings out a selection of thermometers.

NOW! says Terence. Let's look for a COMPASS!

We won't find one, says the chemist. But you can look round the shop if you like.

Yay! says Terence. Come with me. I don't know what one looks like.

They are usually round, says the chemist. With a north pointing pointer.

Terence and the chemist walk up and down the aisles, looking for something round with a north pointing pointer.

Arthur looks though the selection of thermometers.

One (small, digital) is about to go missing. 

Steamy Dream

Wait! says Saint Roley. What are you doing?

Louisa puts down the grater.

I guess I should wait, says Louisa.

What for exactly? says Saint Roley.

Sweezus to wake up, says Louisa.

If he ever wakes up, says Saint Roley. 

I'll wake him up! cries Terence, racing for the spare bedroom.

He pushes the door open. 

Sweezus is sleeping soundly. 

WAKE UP! shouts Terence.

Whah! says Sweezus. What's up little buddy?

Louisa's got a grater! says Terence. She's waiting for you to wake up.

She'll be waiting for Arthur, says Sweezus. 

He shakes Arthur. Wake up, bro!

Whah! says Arthur. What time is it?

Dunno, says Sweezus. But Louisa's got a grater. Could be for your scabs.

Merde! says Arthur. I'm not having her grate my scabs off. I'm going to the chemist.

Won't be open yet, says Sweezus. Come into the kitchen. She's probably kidding.

Sweezus enters the kitchen.

How are you feeling? asks Louisa. Stomach cramps, nausea, the runs?

Nice greeting, says Sweezus. I slept okay thanks. 

Good, says Louisa. I'm just going to add a magic ingredient to the sushi.

Awesome! says Sweezus. Like what, a hallucinogenic mushroom? 

Grated orange peel, says Louisa. I had this dream in the night.

It was a cool dream. Ending up rather steamy.

Excuse me, says the Ear. Is this ME you'll be grating?

Yes you, Ear, says Louisa. 

My Ear, says Baby-Glossy.

But I made it, says Louisa.

It became mine after HE ate my un, says Baby-Glossy. Now this Ear is my un.

I am his un, says the Ear. And furthermore, I am stuck to Peut-étre, who belongs to Terence.

I do not, says Peut-étre. 

What's this fuss? asks Gaius. I'm sure Louisa only wants a small grating.

Yes, a small grating, says Louisa. It's not like I haven't shaved Ear before.

True! Ear remembers!

Arthur comes out of the bedroom, blood dripping down his leg from from a knee scab, and blood on his toe.

You picked your scabs, man! says Sweezus. Too bad, you didn't need to. 

I'm on my way to the chemist, says Arthur. Anyone want anything?

A compass, says Terence.

A thermometer, says Sweezus. I owe it to Captain du Couedic.

Sure, says Arthur. Don't know about the compass.

I do, says Terence. I'll come with you.

Okay, says Arthur.

Terence will be a useful distraction.

The Grater Good

I agree with Baby-Glossy, says Saint Roley. Your story is cruel.

It is cruel to deprive the world of thirty thousand ortolans annually, says Gaius.

It is cruel to tell a baby bird that this happens, in the guise of a story, says Saint Roley. 

Without a compass, says Terence.

I didn't say compass, says Baby-Glossy. 

A moral compass, says Gaius. You did say that.

Because it wasn't un proper story, says Baby-Glossy. 

Did Ivan have a compass? asks Terence.

Who is Ivan? asks Gaius.

The merchant's son in the second story, says Saint Roley.

He had un kaftan, says Baby-Glossy. He put it over the baby birds in the storm.

Ah, I see, says Gaius. Yes, he had a moral compass.

But did his parents put the compass in the boat when they gave him the sleeping potion? asks Terence.

No, says Saint Roley. We can safely assume that they didn't have one.

Back to my story, says Gaius. I was simply attempting to raise awareness of an outdated practice.

And you did, says Saint Roley. Perhaps Baby-Glossy will grow up to become an activist.

NO! says Terence. He can't be an activist.

What is un activist? asks Baby-Glossy.

Doing tricks in a circus, says Terence. You wouldn't like it.

No I wouldn't, says Baby-Glossy.

I might like it, says the Ear, but I'm stuck to Peut-étre.

We're a team, says Peut-étre.

Bricks can't do tricks, says Terence.

Louisa enters the kitchen. Good morning, Gaius. Oh! What's happened?

We're stuck together, says the Ear, so we can't join the circus.

Never mind, says Louisa. You can still have an interesting future, if you're willing.

They're not! says Terence.

We are, says Peut-étre. We'd like a interesting future.

I knew you would, says Louisa. 

She opens a drawer and takes out out a grater.

Thirty Thousand

Gaius comes into the kitchen.

We had three stories, says Terence.

Very good, says Gaius, filling a kettle.

A cup of tea would be nice.

And look what happened to my Ear, says Baby-Glossy.

And my brick, says Terence.

Hm. Stuck together.

Gaius looks for the tea bags. 

Stuck together for nine hundred years, says Terence.

Nine hundred, says Gaius. Then what?

Gaius rinses a mug.

They sing, says Baby-Glossy, and walk around in chains behind someone ringing un bell

Then they die! says Terence. No wait, first they turn into people.

Your Ear and your brick won't turn into people, says Saint Roley. Because they weren't people before.

Gaius has dropped his tea bag into the mug and is adding hot water.

He sits down to wait for it to brew.

I gather this is an extrapolation of one of your stories, says Gaius.

Yes, says Saint Roley. The Children of Lir.

A sad story, says Gaius. I know it. 

All three stories were sad in their way, says Saint Roley.

All bird stories? asks Gaius.

They were, says Saint Roley. The Language of Birds, and The Crane Wife.

I hope, says Gaius, testing his tea with his finger, that Terence and Baby-Glossy showed empathy.

Yes and no, says Saint Roley. 

I have a bird story, says Gaius, taking a sip of his tea.

Tell it, says Saint Roley. 

The ortolan bunting, says Gaius, is a delicate songbird, but this does not prevent it from being eaten by humans.

Like a chicken, says Terence.

A chicken is not caught, fattened, drowned in armagnac, cooked and eaten whole, bones and all, except for the beak, says Gaius. Every year, thirty thousand ortolans are caught for this purpose.

Baby-Glossy can't believe it. 

I presume by the French, as you mentioned armagnac? says Saint Roley.

Indeed, says Gaius. The tradition is to eat the cooked ortolan feet first, in one mouthful, with a napkin placed over one's head. 

Shocking, says Saint Roley. I suppose that's because they're ashamed.

Either that or it helps to capture the aroma, says Gaius.

Is that the end of the story? asks Terence.

Yes, says Gaius. What have you learned from it?

Beaks are harder than bones, says Terence.

And you Baby-Glossy?

That is un cruel story, with no moral compass, says Baby-Glossy 

Un Curse

Terence, Baby-Glossy and Saint Roley go back inside.

No one is up yet.

Keep telling the story, says Terence. 

Wait, says Saint Roley. Something has happened.

What? asks Terence.

Look, says Saint Roley. Your Ear and your brick are stuck together.

It is true. The Ear and Peut-étre are stuck together.

Un curse, says Baby-Glossy.

Nine hundred years, says Terence.

Then what? asks the Ear.

You'll still be an Ear, says Terence. Bad luck.

It seems I must finish the story, says Saint Roley. Sit still and listen.

At some point in the nine hundred years, Saint Patrick had come to Ireland.

I know him! says Terence. He wears a green hat.

That's him, says Saint Roley. One day a monk arrived at the place where the swans were, and heard them singing. He asked if they were the Children of Lir. They allowed him to bind them with silver chains and lead them away. He was ringing a bell.

Why? asks Terence.

Why what? asks Saint Roley The bell, or the chains, or why they allowed it?

The bell, says Baby-Glossy.

To get their attention, says Saint Roley. 

The silver chains, says Terence. 

To keep them together, says Saint Roley.

Why they allowed it, says the Ear.

You can't ask, says Terence. You don't even know the first part of the story.

I don't need to, says the Ear.

That is so, says Saint Roley. Now the King of Connacht saw the swans and wanted to give them to his wife, but the monk refused to release them. So the King grabbed at them and their feathers came off.

Ha ha! laughs Terence.

It's no joke, says Saint Roley. Their feathers came off, revealing three old men and one old woman, thin and bony. They asked the monk to baptise them.

THAT'S funny, says Terence.

We can't expect them to make good decisions at this stage, says Saint Roley. They died soon after and were buried. The monk was sad.

Was the king sad? asks Baby-Glossy. 

That isn't recorded, says Saint Roley.

Time's Up

A curtain, says Terence.

Why would Ivan go hunting with a curtain? asks Saint Roley. 

To hide behind, says Terence.

I don't think so, says Saint Roley. In my mind a kaftan is some sort of coat.

What's un coat? asks Baby-Glossy.

A jacket, says Saint Roley. So Ivan took off his jacket and covered the baby birds with it.

I don't think it's un jacket, says Baby-Glossy. That would not please the parents.

How do you know? asks Terence.

Baby-Glossy looks sad. 

I don't know, says Baby-Glossy. But I think un kaftan is soft, warm and woolly.

It probably is, says Saint Roley. 

Did he get it back? asks Terence.

That is not specified in the story, says Saint Roley. I suppose so. 

Good, says Terence. Was he wearing it when he got pushed out to sea in a boat?

That again is not specified, says Saint Roley. And you were told not to interrupt the story.

But it's finished, says Terence, And it's still not morning. Tell us another one.

I'll start one, says Saint Roley, but it spans nine hundred years, so you may not hear the ending.

We don't care, says Terence.

This is the story of the Children of Lir, says Saint Roley. They were turned into swans by a jealous stepmother. 

Were they boys? asks Terence. 

Three boys and a girl, says Saint Roley. The girl was the smartest. She asked the stepmother to set a limit.

If she was so smart, says Terence, why didn't she ask the stepmother not to do it?

That's not how curses work, says Saint Roley. The stepmother agreed to the limit.

What is un limit? asks Baby-Glossy.

When time's up, says Saint Roley. So the limits she set were: three hundred years on Loch Dairbhreach, three hundred years on Sruth na Maoilé, and three hundred years on Iorrus Domnann. Each place was more frigid than the last. Their feet stuck to the ice. It was awful. They prayed to be protected.

Who to? asks Terence.

The King of Heaven, says Saint Roley. I don't know who that was, at the time. But the upshot was, they were protected.

With a kaftan? asks Baby-Glossy.

No way, says Terence. What they needed was shoes.

Neither, says Saint Roley. They just didn't die of the cold.

Woop, says Terence.

After nine hundred years they went back to where they had come from, continues Saint Roley. But Lir was long dead. and the place was deserted.

Were they swans then, or children? asks Terence.

Still swans, says Saint Roley. 

But you said...., says Terence.

Times up, says Saint Roley, as the first sunbeam turns the sky rosy.

The Kaftan

Is it morning yet? asks Baby-Glossy.

Almost, says Saint Roley. There's time for one more story. 

My story, says Baby-Glossy.

And mine, says Terence.

You had yours, says Baby-Glossy. 

But I can listen, says Terence. 

Of course you can listen, says Saint Roley. But no interrupting.

Can I interrupt? asks Baby-Glossy.

Only if you must, says Saint Roley. 

This story is about Ivan, the son of a merchant. Ivan was hunting in the forest when a storm arose, and he heard frantic squawking. In a branch above him was a nest with four baby birds and no parents.

I won't like this story, says Baby-Glossy.

You will, says Saint Roley.

Ivan placed his kaftan over the baby birds to protect them from the storm. The storm ended. The parent birds returned and were grateful. What can we give you? they asked Ivan. Ivan answered: Teach me the the language of birds. Stay with us three days, said the parents, and we will teach you.

Ivan went back to his own parents, who had a nightingale that they kept in a cage. Now you can tell us what her beautiful song is about, said Ivan's father. Not long after, the nightingale sang.

It's a sad song, said Ivan. But what are the words? asked his father. She sings that the day will come when Ivan the merchant's son will become Ivan the prince and he will be served by his father, said Ivan.

After that his parents no longer trusted Ivan. One night they gave him a sleeping potion and set him adrift in a small boat on the sea. 

I like to end the story here, says Saint Roley.

But we don't know if he turned into a prince, says Terence.

It's better that way, says Saint Roley. What do you think, Baby Glossy?

What's a kaftan? asks Baby-Glossy.

You Must Not Follow

Terence and Baby-Glossy sit on Louisa's front step with Saint Roley.

Now tell us a story, says Terence.

Okay, says Saint Roley. Would you like one with a winner?

Yes, says Terence.

No, says Baby-Glossy.

Perhaps we shall have time for both, says Saint Roley. 

Winner first, says Terence.

All right, says Saint Roley. You can tell me who wins in this story:

Once there was a poor fisherman, who found a crane, entangled in nets. He set the crane free. That night a beautiful girl appeared at his door and said she was his wife.

That's a good story, says Terence. 

It's not finished, says Saint Roley.

I don't get it, says Baby-Glossy.

It's not finished, says Terence.

Saint Roley continues:

The fisherman said he was too poor to keep a wife. But I have a big bag of rice, said his wife. And it never runs out. They ate rice and were happy. Then one day the wife said she was going into a room and he must not follow.

The toilet! says Terence.

NO! says Saint Roley. 

Woop, says Terence. Sorr-ee!

She stayed in the room for seven days and then came out, looking skinny, holding a shining bolt of woven cloth, says Saint Roley. She asked her husband to sell it, which he did, for a great deal of money. Now they were rich.

Two winners! says Terence.

I bet it's not finished, says Baby-Glossy.

Not yet, says Saint Roley.

One day the wife disappeared into the room again. This time the fisherman was so curious, he peeped in. He saw a crane, plucking out its own feathers and weaving them into a beautiful cloth on a loom. Why are you doing that? he cried. For love, answered the crane. But now you have seen me, I must leave you. And the crane flew away.

One winner, says Terence.

And who was it? asks Saint Roley.

The fisherman! cries Terence. Wait, no! He lost his parrot.

Did she leave the cloth behind when she flew away? asks Baby-Glossy.

No, she took it with her, says Saint Roley. 

Comparatively Immortal

Talk about what? asks Terence.

Options, says Peut-être.

I know what they are, says Terence.

This is not about you, says Peut-être.

But you're my brick, says Terence.

I am A brick, says Peut-être. 

And he wants to talk to ME, says the Ear. Can we have some privacy?

I suggest Terence, Baby-Glossy and I go outside and wait for the sun to come up, says Saint Roley. 

Why can't we all go? asks Terence.

Come, says Saint Roley. We'll sit on the step and I'll tell you a story.

Yay! says Terence.

Out they go.

Leaving the Ear and Peut-être in the kitchen.

So you think I'm immortal, says Peut-être.

Compared to me, says the Ear.

One can't be comparatively immortal, says Peut-être. One either is or one isn't. Tell me about your origins.

I once was an orange, says the Ear.

The whole orange? asks Peut-être.

The peel, says the Ear. Actually, a long strip of peel. I came out of a bag of oranges belonging to Gaius.

No need to go back that far, says Peut-être. What happened next?

I was carved into an Ear by Louisa. My fellow Ear was smaller, created by Baby-Glossy. We were to be in a competition. It was: Who would speak first?

Who won? asks Peut-être.

It was never determined, says the Ear. At that point we both realised we had a gift. I have forgotten what it was though.

Never mind, says Peut-être. How did you get soggy?

Water, says the Ear, followed by a trip in a cellophane packet.

It seems to me, says Peut-être, we have much in common. I was a frond of red seaweed, wafting about on an undersea rope. Until I was unexpectedly ripped off by two thuggish sharks, and delivered through various channels to Louisa who ignorantly boiled me in water after which I hardened into the brick you see before you today.

Meaning? asks the Ear.

Human intervention, says Peut-être. The cause of our current woes. You're too soft, I'm too hard. That's the difference.

And you aren't disintegrating, says the Ear.

True, says Peut-être. How about we team up? 

If you are disintegrating you have little to lose.

The Ear accepts the brick's offer.

We Need To Talk

 How could I have eaten it? asks Sweezus. It's not even here.

Saint Roley brought both Ears, explains Gaius. It appears you have eaten the smaller one.

My un! cries Baby-Glossy.

Don't worry, says Terence. It's not even them. And you've still got the other one.

Me, says the larger Ear, from half way out of the cellophane packet.

Shit-a-brick! says Sweezus. It was probably full of bacteria.

Time will tell, says Gaius. Why don't you lie down.

Yeah, says Sweezus. I am pretty knackered.

Me too, says Arthur. How's the sushi going?

Good, says Louisa. It just needs rolling up.

I'll do it, says Victor. I've been offered a taste test.

Great, says Louisa. Roll it up  like this, and then chop it into three pieces,

Doesn't anyone care that my fellow Ear has been eaten? asks the Ear which hasn't been eaten.

I do! says Baby-Glossy. It was my un. Would YOU like to be my un?

I will gladly be your un, says the Ear. Don't let them eat me.

Sweezus is about to go and lie down, but he thinks it's worth pointing out that the chocolate tapenade flavoured with the orange peel ear tasted awesome.

He tells Louisa, who looks doubtful.

Just saying, says Sweezus.

He goes into the spare bedroom, followed by Arthur.

Those guys, says Louisa. They're not the only ones that pulled an all-nighter.

Victor looks smug. He takes a bite of the hairy red sushi.

What do you think? asks Louisa.

May I have a drink of water? asks Victor.

That bad? asks Louisa. Well, stuff it. I'm going to bed too.

So am I, says Gaius. 

I'll be off, says Victor. He leaves, coughing and harrumping.

Only Terence, Baby-Glossy, the Ear and Saint Roley are left in the kitchen.

What's that? asks Saint Roley.

My brick, says Terence. I'm the owner.

You are fickle, says Saint Roley. You loved those Ears. Now you ignore them.

Now he loves the brick, says Baby-Glossy. He calls it Peut-être.

It's understandable, moans the Ear. A brick is a brick. Whereas, look at me.

Everyone looks at the Ear, including Peut-être.

We need to talk, says Peut-être.

You Ate My Ear!

Saint Roley lands in Louisa's front garden.

He taps on the door.

Gaius opens.

Terence! calls Gaius. Saint Roley is here!

Terence comes thundering down the hallway.

Guess what?

Guess what yourself, says Saint Roley.

I know already, says Terence. I've got my own brick!

Very nice, says Saint Roley. But now, guess what I have, in this packet.

Terence looks at the packet, attached to Saint Roley with string.

String! And a cellophane packet! And a gooey orange mess inside the packet.

I was wondering what that was, says Gaius. Some sort of fungus?

The EARS! says Saint Roley. An unfortunate event occurred at the lighthouse, after which the Ears' only desire was to return to their makers.

It's not them, says Terence. 

Dear me, says Gaius, to Saint Roley. You'd better come in.

Saint Roley follows Gaius into the kitchen where Louisa is spreading rice onto hairy red pseudo-nori.

Baby-Glossy is stirring the chocolate tapenade with a spoon gripped in his beak.

Saint Roley hops onto the table, with the packet.

Baby-Glossy drops the spoon into the tapenade.

Ears! squawks Baby-Glossy. 

The Ears stare out through the cellophane. At least Baby-Glossy is pleased to see them.

Will someone please let them out?

Louisa meanwhile has found the tongs and lifted the spoon from the tapenade.

She places it on the table.

Baby-Glossy doesn't hesitate. He picks up the chocolatey spoon with his beak, opens the cellophane packet with one wing, and scoops the mushy Ears out.

Which un is mine? cries Baby-Glossy.

Me! cries the small one. I have missed you!

It would be a lovely reunion but for what happens next.....

Arthur, Sweezus and Victor come in through the open front door.

They smell chocolate. 

Arthur picks up the spoon. Licks off the chocolate mixed with olives and capers and whatnot.

Sweezus sees a chocolate-covered blob on the table.

He picks it up and eats it. 

Mm, delicious. What's that orangey flavour?

Hey! cries Baby-Glossy. You just ate my EAR!

Zero Is Low

Very late at night.

Sweezus, Arthur and Victor are cycling back to the Flinders Chase entrance, with the ladder between them.

That was weird, says Sweezus. We went there to see if the Ears needed to be rescued and they didn't.

Until they were immersed in water, says Victor. That's when things changed.

Yeah, whose idea was that? asks Sweezus.

Baudin's, says Arthur. 

Maybe he planned the whole thing, says Sweezus. Get rid of the Ears, take their place. 

Where are they? asks Victor.

Haven't you got them? asks Sweezus.

You said you'd bring them, says Victor.

Yeah but then I dropped the thermometer, says Sweezus. I forgot about them, after that.

Did you see what your temperature was? asks Arthur.

Zero, says Sweezus. 

At least it was low, says Arthur.

It was broken, says Victor. And don't forget you owe Captain du Couedic a new one.

Sure, says Sweezus. Remind me to buy one in the morning.

I'll get you one, says Arthur. I need to go to the chemist.

They have now reached the locked gate. They wheel their bikes and drag the ladder to the place in the fence where the wire sags, and exit through it.

No need to split up yet, says Victor. Did you say Louisa was making sushi? 

Yeah, wanna try it? asks Sweezus. We need the feedback.

Don't mind if I do, says Victor.

They continue, sharing the load of the ladder.

At a certain point, Saint Roley flies overhead, with the Ears in a cellophane packet, provided by Captain du Couedic. 

The cellophane packet once contained a brioche, which the Ears can smell faintly.

The packet is attached to Saint Roley with string, also provided by Captain du Couedic.

It's a pleasant trip for the Ears, who can see though the packet.

Without Gifts

The Ears have swelled considerably.

They seem different as well.

They're quivering, says Captain Baudin.

Reconstituted orange peel is never the same, observes Victor

Speak, Ears, says Captain du Couedic. Do you still have your gifts? 

What gifts? asks the larger Ear.

We have no gifts, says the smaller Ear. Where is Terence? Where is Baby-Glossy?

Merde! cries Captain du Couedic. The Ears are no longer gifted.

Wait, says Captain Baudin. Give them a chance. Ask a specific question.

Bonne idée! says Captain du Couedic. Ears, explain the method of mail delivery to the lighthouse in the old days.

As if we would know anything about that, says the larger Ear. 

As if, says the smaller. All we want is to meet our creator.

Creators, says the larger. We had two different ones.

Tut! says Captain du Couedic. Not only have they lost their gifts, but they have turned heretical.

If you don't want them, says Sweezus, that's cool. We'll take them back to Louisa's. 

Will Terence be there? asks the larger Ear.

Yeah and Gaius, and Baby-Glossy, says Sweezus. They're all making sushi.

We'll join in, says the larger Ear. 

We'll enjoy it, says the smaller.

Turncoats, mutters Captain du Couedic.

We'd better be going, says Victor. 

Yeah, we'd better, says Sweezus. He stands, hitching up his board shorts.

The thermometer drops from his armpit.

Shit, says Sweezus. Forgot that was there.

Let me see! says Captain du Couedic. Alors! It is fracassé!

Sorry, says Sweezus. I'll get you another one.

A more modern one, perhaps, suggests Captain Baudin.

No way, says Sweezus. They're heaps expensive.

A traditional thermometer will suffice, says Captain du Couedic. Au revoir, mes amis. I can't say it was wholly a pleasure. But it seems the Ears would not have lasted much longer.

Arthur is already half way down the stairs.

Sweezus is not far behind.

Victor hurries after them, to avoid being left to transport the ladder. 

They forgot us! say the Ears.

I'm still here, says Saint Roley. I'll fly you back to Louisa's.

What about me? asks Captain Baudin. No compass. 

Stay with me, mon ami, says Captain du Couedic.

Very kind, says Captain Baudin.

How are you at rope swinging? asks Captain du Couedic.

Rope swinging? Mon dieu! Let's leave them to it.

French Crumbs

Captain du Couedic gathers up the Ears and drops them into the water.

They float there.

Now for YOU, says Captain du Couedic, to Sweezus. 

I'm good, says Sweezus.

We'll soon see, says Captain du Couedic. Stick this under your arm and keep it there for sixty seconds.

I prefer contactless, says Sweezus.

What does that mean? asks Captain du Couedic. 

Your modern thermometers, says Baudin. You point them at the person's head like a gun.

Is that so? says Captain du Couedic. 

Boom boom boom**!!! dadadadadadadada da da daaa!!! **.

The 1812 Overture is reaching a crescendo.

Terrible music! says Captain du Couedic, switching it off.

One of the Ears begs to differ.

We LOVE it!

It is easy to see you're not French, says Captain du Couedic. Do you realise how insulting this tune is to Napoleon?

It's just music, says the Ear.

Ho! says Captain du Couedic.

Music can be political, says Captain Baudin, poking an anchovy.

Too right, says Sweezus. What about, you know, that band? 

Midnight Oil? says Arthur. 

That's them, says Sweezus. Beds Are Burning. 

Never heard of them, says Captain du Couedic.

I should point out that your Ears are swelling, says Victor. 

Pardon? says Captain du Couedic. Oui, c'est ça! 

He lifts his Ears from the water and places them on a plate of French crumbs.

Don't Worry Ears

Don't worry, Ears, says Captain du Couedic. There must be a limit to shrinkage.

The Ears brighten.

Maybe you could put them in water, suggests Captain Baudin.

The Ears look apprehensive.

Sweezus and Arthur have eaten all the French pastries.

Are those anchovies? asks Sweezus, pointing at the plate.

Yes, says Saint Roley. Intended for me. But you're welcome to try them.

Nah, says Sweezus, just thinking, they might be good in the sushi.

In the tapenade, says Arthur. With the olives and capers and chocolate.

What is this? cries Captain du Couedic.

A project we're doing, says Sweezus. 

He explains the arrangement with Great White Teacher, the seaweed, and the chocolate tapenade.

I've heard that anchovies add flavour to almost anything, says Captain Baudin.

Really? says Captain du Couedic. 

A meat stew for example, or a tomato sauce, or a diced orange and red pepper salad, says Captain Baudin.

But chocolate? asks Captain du Couedic.

It's not unthinkable, says Captain Baudin. One must embrace life! Turn up the music!

Captain du Couedic turns up the music.

The 1812 Overture. 

That's loud, says Victor.

You a philosopher? asks Sweezus.

No, says Victor. Although, at times, I indulge....

I meant Baudin, says Sweezus. I need a second one.

I am of a philosophical nature, says Captain Baudin. What do you need two for?

A rash promise, says Sweezus. My boss and me changed places. I was in quarantine...

What! cries Captain du Couedic. You are supposed to be in quarantine? Get out of my lighthouse!

Calm down du Couedic, says Baudin. Take his temperature, before you erupt in a panic.

Du Couedic scurries away to the bathroom, to find a thermometer.

Two philosophers, says Baudin. Who is the other one?

Kierkegaard, says Sweezus.

Count me in, says Baudin. 

Du Couedic returns with a thermometer, and a dish of cold water.

The Ears freeze. Is the water for them?

The Truth Ineluctable

Hey! says Sweezus. The door's open.

So we don't need the ladder, says Arthur.

Caution! says Victor. It may be a ruse.

It wasn't open when we got here, says Sweezus. 

Someone must've opened it, says Arthur. 

He goes in. No one.

He closes the door.

The Ears are dangling from the inside handle, by means of a long knotted string.

Trying to escape? asks Arthur. 

Not at all, says the larger of the Ears. We are opening the door to let you know all is well here.

Doesn't look that way, says Arthur. He opens the door.

Sweezus and Victor come in.

Arthur shuts it.

The Ears drop to the floor.

So this is them, says Sweezus. They're smaller than I imagined.

They are, says Victor. Hardly worth all this kerfuffle.

They were bigger, last time I saw them, says Arthur. 

Are you being starved? asks Victor, kneeling down to Ear level.

No, says the smaller Ear. There are French pastries, anchovies and crackers upstairs.

Let's go up, says Sweezus.

You can't just go up, says the larger Ear. You need clearance.

I have a warrant, says Victor.

They all go up the stairs.

Bonsoir, says Captain du Couedic. I see you have bypassed security.

Victor waves the warrant.

Saint Roley flies over to inspect it.

What are you doing here? asks Victor.

Visiting, says Saint Roley.

A nice coincidence, says Victor.

All right if I have a pastry? asks Sweezus.

Go ahead, says Captain du Couedic. I recommend the cannelés.

What are those chocolate ones? asks Sweezus.

Rose des sables, says Captain du Couedic.

Sweezus takes a macaron, which he had his eye on.

Arthur takes a rose des sables.

Victor continues to fulfil his duty.

Captain, I have reason to believe that the Ears are being starved, due to a witness statement that they have grown smaller.

Hélas, says Captain du Couedic. I have noted this too. It is not due to starvation, but the fact that they are fashioned from orange peel which tends to shrink and harden, ineluctably. 

The Ears look at one another in anguish.

They had believed they would live a fine life in the lighthouse with Captain du Couedic forever. 

The Bringer Of War

Saint Roley is not eating.

You don't like French pastries? asks Captain du Couedic.

I prefer molluscs, says Saint Roley. Failing that, anything fishy.

I may have some anchovies, says Captain du Couedic. 

He goes to look in his pantry.

Saint Roley looks out of the window. 

The old fashioned radio is now playing The Planets.

DER...der-DER....Mars the Bringer of War.

I like this one, says Captain Baudin. 

It doesn't work for me somehow, says Saint Roley. Perhaps because I'm looking out of the window, at the peaceful night sky.

Peaceful, is it? asks Captain Baudin, going to the window.

By chance he looks down.

Alors! A policeman on a bicycle, with a ladder! 

It's Victor, says Saint Roley. And look! Sweezus and Arthur. They must have got here first, without the ladder, and been waiting.

A cunning plan, says Captain Baudin.

Not necessarily, says Saint Roley. Do you think I should go down and warn them?

Warn who of what? asks Captain du Couedic, returning with anchovies and crackers.

They have arrived, says Saint Roley. They are outside with a ladder. They will soon climb up the ladder and look in through this window. 

Probably only one of them will do it, says Captain du Couedic.

You seem calm, says Baudin.

Toutours calme, mon ami, says Captain du Couedic. After all, it is you who are compromised.

And me, says Saint Roley. Perhaps we should hide.

I'll send the Ears down, says Captain du Couedic. Defuse the situation. Ears, will you go down and speak to the prowlers? Let them know all is well and their intervention is not required.

Can we wait till the music is finished? asks the larger Ear.

Non, but I shall turn it up louder, says Captain du Couedic. You will hear it all the way down the stairs.

The Ears stand reluctantly, and go down the stairs.

Captain du Couedic turns the volume up louder.

Saint Roley chews on an anchovy.

Ugh. So salty! Anchovies were never his favourite.

Creak! The door opens, downstairs.....

Tinkling Dreams

Captain du Couedic leans back in his chair.

Shall we have music? asks Captain du Couedic.

The Ears nod.

They like music.

Captain du Couedic twiddles a knob on an old fashioned radio.

Classical music blasts out. L'Après-midi d'une Faune.

Just let it wash over you, says Captain du Couedic.

The langourous music washes over the Ears. They fall into a trance.

Three floors below, there is a knock on the door. 

And another and another. Captain du Couedic hears the third knock, which coincides with a lull in the music.

He scrapes his way down the stairs. 

Opens the door of the lighthouse.

Baudin! cries Captain du Couedic. You're wet! Come inside.

Captain Baudin enters, with Saint Roley.

This is my my good friend Saint Roley, says Captain Baudin. He kindly helped me with the directions.

You needed directions! cries Captain du Couedic.

Sadly yes, says Captain Baudin. I had forgotten my compass.

Never mind, says Captain du Couedic. Come up, both of you. The kettle is on, and there is music.

And the Ears? asks Captain Baudin.

You've heard about them? says Captain du Couedic.

That's why we're here, says Saint Roley.

To warn you, says Captain Baudin. 

Come upstairs first, says Captain du Couedic.

They all go upstairs.

The Ears are still swooning.

What's this? says Saint Roley. Have you drugged them?

The somniferous music continues.

Captain du Couedic switches it off.

The Ears prick up. Was it finished?

We have visitors, says Captain du Couedic. I'll fetch some pastries.

He fetches French pastries.

You're being checked up on, says Captain Baudin, taking a pastry. There are those who suspect that the Ears are not here by choice.

Ha ha, laugh the Ears. As you see, we're enjoying a fine life. At night there is music.

Captain du Couedic switches the music back on.

Laa-lalallah-lalalalalaah.....

Arthur will be coming soon with a ladder, says Captain Baudin. Either alone or with a companion.

Let him come, says Captain du Couedic.

Down below, Arthur and Sweezus have arrived at the lighthouse, without the ladder.

I guess we wait for Victor, says Sweezus.

I guess so, says Arthur. Can you hear music?

Yeah, says Sweezus. Debussy. 

They sit on the step listening to surf crashing on nearby rocks, sheoaks susurrating softly and the tinkling dreams of the faun......