The Surfboard

Sweezus is bored, in quarantine. Even though it's a classy hotel.

He calls Arthur.

Hey, says Sweezus. What're you guys up to?

Cycling to Stokes Bay, says Arthur.

Stokes! says Sweezus. I'm coming!

Finished your quarantine? says Arthur.

Not exactly, says Sweezus. I'll ask for a special exemption.

Good one, says Arthur. What grounds?

Dunno yet, says Sweezus. Still thinking.

Tell them we need a ladder, says Arthur.

DO you need a ladder? asks Sweezus.

We do, says Arthur. We need it to climb.

To what? asks Sweezus. 

Lighthouse window, says Arthur. At night.

Coolio! says Sweezus. Don't tell me. The Ears need to be rescued.

They might, says Arthur. And they might not. 

But we need to find out, says Sweezus.

And before that we'll go surfing, says Arthur. Bring your board.

Copy that, says Sweezus. See you soon.

Was that Sweezus? asks Louisa.

Yes, says Arthur. He's getting an exemption.

If anyone can get an exemption, he can, says Louisa.

I could get one, says Arthur.

You wouldn't even ask for an exemption, says Louisa.

This is true, but Arthur likes to think he could get one. 

Is he bringing a ladder? asks Louisa. 

He'll have to, says Arthur. It's his reason for coming.

We've got ladders on KI, says Louisa. And he could hire a surfboard.

They pass a koala.

A wallaby, an echidna. 

Not all at once though.

A Cape Barren Goose flaps overhead slowly.

A wombat crushes something under its buttocks.

Louisa and Arthur cycle north-east, speaking of ladders and surfboards.