The Look And The Good

Gaius, we need that table, says Belle.

Of course, says Gaius. I had thought to be finished by now, but something unexpected has happened.

What's that? asks Belle.

Two crabs are declawed, says Gaius. Terence found one claw. I'm now trying to determine which crab it belongs to.

Did you ask them? asks Belle.

They both claimed it, says Gaius. As is only natural. I'm measuring the length of exposed tendon to determine the truth.

You don't have a ruler, says Marie.

There are other ways of measuring, says Gaius. But you're right. I should have a ruler.

These potatoes are hot, says Marie. Can you give us one end of the table?

Certainly, says Gaius. I might go up to the shop and see if Lauren has a ruler. Will you keep an eye on the crabs?

Sure, says Marie, putting the hot potatoes next to the salad bowls of the hapless boy crabs.

Where's the third one? asks Belle. There are meant to be three of them.

I'm down here, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

At least you're in one piece, says Belle. Would you like to go back in your bowl now?

I don't think I'm allowed to, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

You're the control crab, says Belle.

Nevertheless, says Alexander-Red-Hook. We should all be returned to our bowls at the same time.

Good thinking, says Belle. But would you like to be up on the table?

Yes, please, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Belle lifts her up.

Alexander-Red-Hook regards her two declawed brothers. And the claw, which belongs to one of them.

You both want it? asks Alexander-Red-Hook.

They nod (which is awkward for crabs).

You realise it'll be an impediment, says Alexander-Red-Hook. It may stop the new claw from growing.

We've thought about that already, says Alexander-Groovy.

We won't last that long, says Alexander-Curly. May as well have the short term benefit.

Which is? asks Alexander-Red-Hook.

Neither of them dares to say mating.

The look, says Alexander-Groovy, lamely.

And the balance, says Alexander-Curly.

Balance. A universal good.

Meanwhile, the potatoes are cooling. And where are the competitors?

Arthur is surfing the waves. Kierkegaard also.

Sweezus isn't. He is approaching the picnic table, from a faraway spot down the beach where a track divides the sand dunes.

He carries a brown cardboard box, with things in it.