Crabbies Ye Are No Alone!

We can't stop him, says Ageless. But we can warn the sand crabs.

Aye, I'm with ye, says Robbie.

We'll stay here in the library until it gets cooler, says Ageless. Then we'll go.

'Tis meant to be rainin' later, says Robbie.

Rain cannot thwart a lobster, says Ageless.

Nor a Scotsman, says Robbie. But I'd do well to rescue ma boots.

How will you do that? asks Ageless.

I dinna know, says Robbie. But t'would be a pity should they fill up wi' water.

Pull the other one, says Ageless. Your boots aren't hollow.

Robbie sighs.

They are these days. And t'was indeed a pity. The metal rods inside went rusty and were no' replaced.

Ageless shakes his head. Poets!

Later, he and Robbie catch a bus to West Beach.

They get off the bus. It's dark already and warm rain is pelting down.

Drear weather for finding wee crabbies,  says Robbie. They'll be stayin' under.

I'll call them out, says Ageless.

You have a call for fellow crustaceans? asks Robbie.

I do. Follow me, says Ageless.

He leads Robbie down a ramp onto the sand beside the churning sea.

All the wee crabbies are keeping themselves under the sand, understandably.

Excelsior!  cries Ageless.

No sand crabs come out.

Excelsior? says Robbie. They understand Latin?

Apparently not.

Last one out's a jelly! shouts Ageless.

Nothing.

An empty promise, says Robbie. Let me try.

Crabbies ye are no alone! says Robbie.

Perhaps there is something in the Scottish accent.

Perhaps there isn't.

But two wee crabbies poke their heads up, in adjacent pools.

oo,  rabbie!!

oo, rabbie, gi'us a pome!

Come oot! I have a fine one for ye, says Robbie.