She Only Died Once

They have now reached Mount Compass.

Gaius stops.

Are we there yet? asks Terence.

Not yet, says Gaius. This is Mount Compass.

I smell coffee, says Kierkegaard.

So do I, says Gaius. It's coming from that café.

Would you like one? asks Kierkegaard.

Yes thanks, a flat white, says Gaius.

Kierkegaard drops his bike, forgetting Alexander-Red-Hook, who cries out:

Aaarh!

Are you still alive? asks Terence.

Of course I am, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

That's fortunate, says Gaius. Another death would augur badly.

You only die once, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

A subjective view, says Gaius. I was thinking of the five others.

Don't start, says Alexander-Red-Hook. That's behind me.

Of course, says Gaius. Onwards and upwards. A good motto.

Especially for a parrot, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Gaius leans his bike against the wall of the café.

He has seen there are seats round the back.

Kierkegaard comes out with two coffees.

Shall we sit round the back? asks Gaius. There's a view.

Yes, says Kierkegaard. Oh!

He has just noticed his bike on the ground and Alexander-Red-Hook, still attached to the handlebars, spreadeagled.

You killed her, says Terence.

My apologies, says Kierkegaard. But she seems to have recovered.

She only died once, says Terence.

Kierkegaard lifts his bike and extracts Alexander-Red-Hook from the knotted string.

I had planned to stay put, says Alexander-Red-Hook.

Better not, in the circumstances, says Kierkegaard.

He hands Gaius his coffee. They all go round the back.

Gaius and Kierkegaard drink their flat whites and admire the view of green paddocks and hills.

A faint scent of pigs wafts past their noses.

Pigs, remarks Gaius. They also make cheese.

The pigs do? asks Kierkegaard.

Ha ha, no, says Gaius. The locals.

Kierkegaard is pleased to have made Gaius laugh.

He had meant it to be a humorous question.