Black Seeds

Gaius and Kierkegaard are in Gaius's back garden, looking at his pumpkins.

Not many pumpkins this year, says Gaius.

Nevertheless, says Kierkegaard, the leaves and vines are taking over the garden.

They do tend to encroach, agrees Gaius.

He lifts a ropey vine with his foot, and moves it to a different position.

The sun shines down, unseeing.

A magpie alights on the roof of the shed.

I wonder how Sweezus is doing? thinks Gaius. 

His train of thought had been: magpie-shed-redbacks-scooter-Baby Pierre-Terence-Sweezus-flyers-I wonder how it is going?

Or something like that.

Kierkegaard of course has no answer, other than yes.

Meaning he also wonders. (Although his train of thought had been shorter).

When someone rings Gaius's doorbell.

Is that your doorbell? asks Kierkegaard, who has normal hearing.

Gaius also has normal hearing, but had resumed pondering his pumpkins.

What? says Gaius. Doorbell? Probably, yes. Will you go?

Kierkegaard walks through the house and opens the front door. 

It's Sweezus.

Hello, says Kierkegaard. How did you go with the flyers?

All gone, says Sweezus. I'm here with a question for Gaius.

Come in, says Kierkegaard. He's out the back. 

Hang on, says Sweezus. Where's Terence?

Isn't he with you? asks Kierkegaard.

He was, says Sweezus. So was Baby Pierre. Now they've vanished.

He walks back to the footpath, and looks down the street,

Relief!

There is Terence, a few houses down, with a stick, whacking the heads of the local agapanthi.

Baby Pierre is running behind him collecting black seeds.