Holey-Moley

Hail lands sharply, says Gaius.

Yes, says Arthur.

Hail lands sharply, yes, says Gaius. Thank you. But what follows?

Keep thinking, says Arthur. Something always materialises.

Does it? says Gaius. Where's that refreshment trolley?

Can't see it yet, says Arthur.

Katherine leans round her seat.

I couldn't help listening, says Katherine. I enjoyed your poem, Arthur.

Thank you , says Arthur. I'm still working on it.

You need to, says David, poking his nose through the gap between the seats. You used the word SLIDE, followed by DEEP. SLIDE ends with E, if I'm not mistaken.

Pedant, says Katherine. It's still a D sound.

He could have used SLID, says David.

Arthur speaks his poem, trying SLID:

Upon nacreous shells seaslugs SLID/ deep pearl lanterns shimmer round damp polyps' sebaceous skin/ nereids sport throughout that tide/ ever running godsaground/ dark Kaos shall long grow within.

(as we can see, he has progressed it)

A problem with tense, there, says Gaius.

And rhyme, says Arthur.

Godsaground, is that one word ? asks David,

Why don't you try? says Arthur.

I shall, says David. Start me off, Katherine.

Holey-moley! says Katherine.

I don't... begins David.

No, says Katherine. That's not your starter word. Something is happening behind us.

The refreshment trolley? asks Gaius. About time it made an appearance.

Not the refreshment trolley, says Katherine. Two flight attendants have bundled a lobster out of his seat and taken him to the back of the aircraft, his thin red legs waving.

Was he wearing a red knitted hat? asks Gaius.

Couldn't see, says Katherine. He was upended.

Arthur, investigate will you? says Gaius.

Arthur gets up to investigate.

Holey-moley, says David, settling back in his seat beside Katherine. Hyphenated, I gather?