Nor The Wisdom Of Solomon

Kierkegaard steps back.

I'll perform Reiki on it, later, says Lauren. Right now there's the picnic.

Perhaps, says Kierkegaard.

His board rash feels worse. It could be from her raspy fingers or because he's been running.

Can we move these salad bowls? asks Lauren. And this unattached claw?

Wait, says Gaius. Where's the ruler?

Here, says Lauren. Can't you do that later?

Time is of the essence, says Gaius. This crab is failing. It would be a pity to waste the claw on a dying one. But if it's his, he shall have it.

Gaius hoists Alexander-Curly out of the salad bowl he has been put in.

He measures the tendon sticking out from the broken off carpus.

He examines Curly's empty propodus.

If only I had a skewer, says Gaius. I could poke it in and obtain an exact measure.

Noooo! cries Alexander-Curly.

It's the first word he has spoken since being stepped on.

I won't have a skewer inserted into my propodus!

Excellent  A coherent sentence!

I will! says Alexander-Groovy. I'll endure the skewer!

Perhaps this proves that the claw belongs to Alexander-Groovy.

Perhaps it doesn't.

Gaius has no time to weigh up the matter. Nor has he the wisdom of Solomon.

And the picnic is being put on the table regardless.

Gaius makes a decision.

Groovy is having the claw.

Unfortunately, to reattach it requires the fish glue which is in his back pack (he hopes) on the floor in Lauren's kitchen.

The spring green frittata smells good. So do the pork and chorizo picnic pies.

Groovy can wait a bit longer.

Belle is pouring the wine.

It's very low in alcohol, says Belle, So drink as much as you like.

Or more, says Arthur, to Sweezus.

Huh? says Sweezus, idly throwing up knucklebones, and catching them on the back of his hand.

Hey! says Terence.  Alexander-Red-Hook wants the knucklebones. She WON them!

But no way will Sweezus give the knucklebones up to a crab.