Ripped Shorts

Are we there yet? asks Terence.

Not yet, says Gaius. This is Port Elliot. Middleton is minutes away.

How many minutes? asks Terence.

Ask the driver, says Gaius.

Terence goes forward to ask the driver.

Five minutes, says the driver. And pick up your crab. She's leaking.

Terence looks under the seat that he recently vacated.

Alexander-Red-Hook isn't leaking.

It's not me, says Alexander-Red-Hook. But I have a bad feeling. Ask Gaius to check on my friends.

He hasn't got them, says Terence.

Ask Kierkegaard then, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Okay, says Terence.

TAKE THE CRAB! says the bus driver.

OKAY! says Terence.

He picks up the breakfast bowl and the tall paper bag with it's damp spot.

Don't put me in that! says Alexander-Red-Hook. I'll fall through the bottom.

Terence would dearly love to see if she would fall through the bottom.

But he has too many tasks already.

He goes back to where Kierkegaard is sitting.

(was sitting)

He is now standing up, and smoothing out his purple skull shorts.

They have creased and ballooned at the front.

Two hours of sitting!

What is it? asks Kierkegaard.

Check on your crabs, says Terence.

Too late now, says Kierkegaard. We're getting off. This is Middleton.

Yay! says Terence.

The bus stops.

Middleton General Store, announces the driver.

He gets off the bus first and opens the baggage compartment at the side of the bus.

Phooo!

A dead crab smell wafts out.

That will be Alexander-Times-Roman, wrapped in his newspaper.

Not Alexander-Yellowsun, floating in the pickle jar, with the dill fronds and dissolved poem settling after being disturbed by the rumbling of the bus.

Fortunately no other passengers are getting off in Middleton.

The bus pulls away.

Is anyone waiting to meet Gaius, Terence and Kierkegaard?

No.

Wait.

Yes. Here comes Belle, with her cousin Marie.

They are wearing ripped shorts, and white tee shirts.