Too Many Nots And Don'ts

Gaius has found the cling wrap.

He shows it to the crabs.

I won't cover you yet, says Gaius.

Why not? asks Alexander-Groovy. We crabs can breathe underwater.

I know, says Gaius. But I thought you might appreciate the freedom.

What freedom is that? asks Alexander-Retro.

To get in and out of the salad bowls, says Gaius. As you did just now for the photos.

We were told to, says Alexander-Curly. Like before, when we asked for bigger bowls.

And you got them, says Gaius. That was freedom.

That was not freedom, says Alexander-Red-Hook. That was logistics.

Very well, says Gaius. Are you saying you'd like me to seal you in with cling wrap, even though we're not leaving the house until two?

It seems the crabs have talked themselves into a corner.

Okay, says Alexander-Groovy.

Okay, says Alexander-Curly.

Yes, says Alexander-Retro.

No, says Alexander-Red-Hook. I'll wait until two. I have things to organise.

As do I, says Gaius. Notebooks, pencils, spare shorts, clean socks, and sunscreen. And a hat.

Kierkegaard realises that he is lacking in some of these items.

May I borrow a few essentials? asks Kierkegaard.

Certainly, says Gaius. Come with me to the bedroom, and we'll pack.

They go.

Gaius calls out to Terence. Terence! Will you cover the salad bowls with cling wrap? Just the salad bowls. Not the breakfast bowl. And don't do anything to the pickle jar. That has a lid.

Okay, says Terence. I'm doing it.

I'll help you, says Alexander-Red-Hook. I heard the instructions.

So did I, says Terence. But there were too many nots and don'ts.

Nots and don'ts are confusing, says Alexander-Red-Hook. But I have the advantage of knowing the reasons for the nots and don'ts.

Good, says Terence. What's the first not?

Not the breakfast bowl, says Alexander-Red-Hook. The reason being, I'm in it and I have things to do.

What are they? asks Terence, forgetting his task in an instant.

Find Alex's eggs which were wrapped in the poem, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Then what? asks Terence.

Place them in the pickle jar with her, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

They'll get ruined, says Terence.

Not the eggs, says Alexander-Red-Hook. But you're right about the poem. However, it will be beautiful when it dissolves around her and mingles with her remains.

Remains? says Terence.

What is left of her, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Everything, says Terence.

But eventually, says Alexander-Red-Hook, she will return to the sea.

Woop, says Terence. What if I wrap her and the poem in cling wrap?

No! cries Alexander-Red-Hook. They would soon rot and smell.

Rot and smell.

Terence is learning a few more things about death than he needs to.