Intelligence Or Lucky Guesses

 Saint Roley? says Roo-kai.

Yes, Saint Roley, says Gaius. Tell us his story.

There is no such saint, says Roo-kai.

Wrong! says Terence.

But true, says Arthur. You named him Saint Roley.

Yes, I did, says Terence. So Saint Roley is such a saint, and Roo-kai is wrong.

Pfaa! says Roo-kai. Not a real one.

He's looking more alert now, says Gaius.

What happened to Saint Roley?

Floated away, says Roo-kai.

Wrong! says Terence. That was his...

Wait! says Gaius. Let's see if Roo-kai remembers.

His brother, says Roo-kai.

This is promising, says Gaius.

Or a lucky guess, says Arthur.

True, says Roo-kai. I did guess it.

He guessed it! says Terence.

Which suggests intelligence, says Gaius.

Thank you, says Roo-kai. 

Shall we continue? asks Gaius. 

Ask me another question, says Roo-kai.

Where to? asks Terence.

What? says Roo-kai.

Where did he float to? asks Terence.

No one knows, to this day, says Roo-kai.

I think we can safely say this bird knows the story, says Gaius.

What if the fake Roo-kai knows the story? says Terence.

A possibility, says Gaius.

Ask him about Buster, says Terence.

I know nothing about any Buster, says Gaius.

Which doesn't mean you're not the real Gaius, says Roo-kai.

Ha ha! Good one! laughs Terence.

What do you know about Buster? asks Gaius.

Buster... Buster.... says Roo-kai.

That's not enough, says Terence.

Wait, says Roo-kai. It's coming back now. 

Did he run into a tree on purpose? asks Terence. And did I fall off? And then did Madame Ponty say I couldn't have a certificate? And then did you help me steal one?

Let me guess, says Roo-kai.

It's him, says Gaius. His sense of humour is back.

How do you know? asks Terence.

Not A Not Very Good Robot

Gaius's house. Arthur knocks on the front door.

Arthur! says Gaius. Good to see you! Come in!

Can't stay long, says Arthur. I'm just dropping off Terence. And Roo-kai. 

NOT! says Terence.

What's this not? asks Gaius, as they walk down the passage to the kitchen.

It's not Roo-kai, says Terence. You can ask him some questions.

Belle thinks he's not yet recovered, says Arthur. 

From what? asks Gaius. 

No one knows, says Arthur. He left some of his feathers in flat packs and he wasn't in the bird box he was supposed to have come in. Then he turned up in the security guard's office.

Nearly dead, says Terence.

He seems all right to me, says Gaius.

He might be a robot, says Terence.  A not very good one.

Let's have a look at him, says Gaius.

He lifts fake (or robot) (or not-yet-recovered) Roo-kai onto his kitchen table.

Roo-kai looks up at the ceiling. Has he been here before? Who is poking at him?

Vinegar, says Gaius. It will be good for what ails him.

Even if he's a robot? asks Terence.

We'll soon know, says Gaius. A robot would not swallow vinegar.

Me either, says Terence

I always keep some in the pantry, says Gaius. Will you please fetch it, Arthur?

Arthur goes into the pantry. He locates the vinegar. And a chocolate bar in a basket on top of a folder, which Gaius has probably forgotten.

He shoves the chocolate bar into his pocket, and brings out the vinegar.

A wonderful substance, vinegar, says Gaius. Good for preventing nausea and hiccups, sneezes and shrinkage of the gums. It will even cure snake bites.

Anything else? asks Arthur.

Cleaning windows and floors, says Gaius. And of course, very tasty on fish when you run out of lemons,

Which is why there's not much in the bottle, says Arthur.

Indeed. In the bottle, there isn't much left.

I'll be sparing, says Gaius.

He tips some vinegar onto his finger and rubs it back and forth on the beak of his patient.

Roo-kai (fake or robot or not-yet-recovered) blinks rapidly, and breathes hard.

Excellent! says Gaius. Now for some pertinent questions. First, can you tell us what happened to Saint Roley?

He didn't... begins Terence.

Hush, allow him to answer, says Gaius.

Fake Or Not-Yet

Belle wheels her bike out of the airport.

Something might be wrong with Roo-kai, says Sweezus.

He'll come good, says Belle. He was trying to keep us all out of trouble.

Like how? asks Sweezus.

Pretending to be a toy bird, says Belle. At least that's what I ..... Why? What's the matter?

Terence reckons Roo-kai's lost his smartness, says Sweezus.

Worse! says Terence. This parrot's not him!

Sure looks like him, says Sweezus.

Ask him some questions, says Arthur.

Good thinking, bro, says Sweezus. Terence, you ask him.

What? asks Terence.

Something Roo-kai will know, but if he isn't Roo-kai, he won't know, says Sweezus. 

That's a really good question, says Terence.

That isn't a question, says Sweezus. That's a suggestion.

Okay, says Terence. Roo-kai, what is it you know if you're you, but if you're not you, you don't know?

 I don't know, says Roo-kai.

That means he isn't Roo-kai! says Terence.

It might mean he hasn't recovered from his ordeal, says Belle. 

Yeah, says Sweezus. Whatever his ordeal was.

Okay, says Belle ? I'm heading home for a nap. Can you guys take Terence and Roo-kai?

You mean Terence and his fake parrot, says Terence.

I've gotta get back to work, says Sweezus. Arthur'll take them.

Sure, says Arthur. I'll take them to Gaius. He'll have a look at Roo-kai.

Yay! says Terence. Gaius will know that I'm right and it isn't Roo-kai.

Gaius? Who's Gaius? wonders fake (or not-yet-recovered) Roo-kai.

Arthur tucks Terence under one arm and balances the skateboard on his bike seat.

What about me? asks fake (or not-yet-recovered) Roo-kai.

You can fly, says Arthur.

Can I? asks fake (or not-yet) Roo-kai.

All right, says Arthur. Change of travel arrangements.

He tucks the skateboard under his arm and sets Terence on his bike seat.

Don't fall off, says Arthur. I can't save you.

I've got the gift of balance, says Terence. It's new.

Good for you, says Arthur. Roo-kai, you can sit on the end of the skateboard.

What's that? asks fake (or not-yet) Roo-kai.

This is the skateboard, says Arthur, indicating the skateboard.

He doesn't know ANYTHING! says Terence

No, what's that? says fake (or not-yet) Roo-kai, indicating the toucan.

A toucan, says Arthur.

Belle and Sweezus have already headed off towards the city.

Arthur sets off with his difficult companions.

What Were You Being?

Is this your bird? asks the security guard.

It was alive when I sent it, says Belle.

You might want to think about that, says the security guard. 

Roo-kai-makes a slight movement.

Perhaps it's a toy bird, says the security guard.

Oh. Perhaps it is, says Belle. In which case, may I take it?

Certainly, says the security guard. And here is its medal.

Thank you, says Belle, accepting the medal, and picking up Roo-kai.

Roo-kai remains stiff in her hands.

Sweezus, Arthur and Terence are waiting.

Why's he all stiff? asks Sweezus.  

Toy birds are usually stiff, says Belle. 

Roo-kai! cries Terence. Has he died?

No, says Belle. But let's get going. 

What about your bike? asks Sweezus.

Damn! I'd better put it together, says Belle. Here, you take Roo-kai.

Sweezus takes Roo-kai from Belle and follows Arthur to the exit.

Terence skates behind them on his new skateboard.

Can I have Roo-kai? asks Terence, when they are safely outside the airport.

Here, says Sweezus. 

He gives Terence Roo-kai.

What were you doing? asks Terence.

Being, says Roo-kai.

Okay what were you being? asks Terence.

A toy bird, says Roo-kai. 

If you were a toy, says Terence, you could have come with me in the cabin.

I know, says Roo-kai.

And why were your feathers in the flat pack? asks Terence. We thought you'd be bald.

I'm not bald, says Roo-kai.

Both flat packs had feathers, says Terence. 

Beats me, says Roo-kai.

You've lost your smartness, says Terence.

Sorry, says Roo-kai.

Terence is worried now. The real Roo-kai would have explained the two lots of feathers and not been sorry for losing his smartness, because he wouldn't have lost it.

This is not the real Roo-kai! 

 

Stiff Orange Feet

Belle pulls the bird box from the baggage carousel.

Roo-kai! says Terence.

He's not in it, says Belle.

But these are his feathers, says Arthur.

Not helpful, Arthur, says Belle.

He's been kidnapped! says Terence.

He might be in the other flat pack, says Sweezus.

Belle's flat pack looms into view. Sweezus grabs it.

Belle opens it up.

Her bike, but no feathers.

That's a good thing, says Belle. 

Why? asks Terence. 

Think about it, little buddy, says Sweezus.

I am thinking about it, says Terence. If we find enough feathers....

It means he'd be bald, says Arthur.

A security guard appears from behind them.

Lost something? 

Our parrot, says Belle. Actually, an oystercatcher.

A bald one, says Terence.

Was it French? asks the security guard. Or Australian?

That's classified information, says Belle.

Oh is it? says the security guard. I assume you have papers.

We don't even have the parrot, says Terence.

What about these feathers? asks the security guard.

They're not him, says Terence.  Like when my sidecurls broke off. and it made me look older.

What's that got to do with it? asks the security guard.

He might look older, says Terence.

Older than what?, says the security guard. Do you have a photo?

Yes, says Belle. I've got this one, with him and the frogs.

She shows him a photo which was taken in Le Havre.

Is that Le Havre? asks the security guard.

Yes, says Belle. 

The guard looks at the bird in the photo.

Did this bird by any chance have a medal from the French Goverment? asks the security guard.

Yes! says Terence. 

Oh, right, says the security guard. Come to the office. We do have a bird that has a French medal and looks older than this one. 

That'll be him, says Belle. Wait here, guys.

She goes off with the security guard to pick up Roo-kai.

She follows the guard into the office.

On the desk lies Roo-kai, his stiff orange feet pointing towards the fan on the ceiling.

Skateboard Scratches

You can jump things on skateboards. 

But not baggage carousels.

Hands reach out to stop Terence.

That's dangerous, kid! says a man who has just missed his back pack.

Shit! says the man, darting sideways.

Arhur has picked up Terence's skateboard.

Is it broken? asks Terence.

A bit roughed up at the front. says Arthur,

Wah! wails Terence.

That's a good thing, says Arthur.

Terence picks up his skateboard. Runs a finger over the front. A scrape is a good thing.

Did you see me not lose my balance? asks Terence.

But Arthur has seen a couple of flat packs with Belle's name on. 

Belle-et-Bonne d'Arouet.

He grabs the first one off the carousel, the other one continues to circle.

He steps back and rips open the flat pack.

It's his bike! And several black feathers.

Belle and Sweezus have arrived at the baggage carousel, having walked there more slowly, chatting.

How's work?

The usual head-fuck.

O no! Why?

Vello and Pierre-Louis, says Sweezus.

Not getting on?

Like they're old buddies, says Sweezus. Going out. Philosophising. Riding bikes.

So what's wrong with that?

I have to do everything, says Sweezus. Graphics. Text. Interviews. Accounts. Buy all the snacks

Poor Sweezie, says Belle. At least I'm back now.

Near the baggage carousel, Arthur is re-assembling his bike

I see you found yours, says Belle.

Yes, says Arthur. What are those feathers?

Crikey! says Belle. Roo-kai! Was he in the flat pack?

No, says Arthur. Was he meant to be?

No, says Belle. He was meant to be in a bird box.

A bird box trundles by.

But the bird box is empty. 

Blue Swirl Wheels

Boxing Day. Adelaide airport. A hot day.

Sweezus and Arthur are waiting at International Arrivals.

Sweezus is holding a skateboard-shaped parcel.

There they are, says Arthur.

Terence runs forward and wraps his cement arms round Sweezus's knees.

Hey, little buddy! says Sweezus. You look different.

I lost my side curls, says Terence. 

Makes you look older, says Sweezus. 

I know, says Terence. And I can ride a pony. And I don't even fall off.

And that was before he was given the gift of balance, says Belle.

Cool, says Sweezus.

The only trouble is, says Terence, I might be getting lighter.

I'm sure you're not getting lighter, says Belle. 

Why does he think that? asks Sweezus.

Some kid on the plane told him he only had the gift of balance because he'd got lighter, says Belle.

No way, says Sweezus. I'd prove it by lifting him, if I wasn't holding this parcel.

Give it to Arthur, says Belle.

Can't he just open it? says Arthur. And did you remember my bike?

Yes, says Belle. My bike and your bike should be on the baggage carousel shortly.

I'll head over there, says Arthur. 

Can I open my present? asks Terence.

You sure can, says Belle.

Terence rips off the paper. It's a skateboard.

A super awesome one. With blue swirl wheels, a toucan, a dolphin, a turtle, and palm trees.

More turtles underneath.

Wow! says Belle. That's a good one.

Gold Coast Majestic, says Sweezus. Real Canadian maple. 

How much? asks Belle.

Terence doesn't wait to hear the answer. He is off on his skateboard.

Zoom! Terence cuts through the crowd of people heading towards the baggage carousel.

He is looking for Arthur.

Hey! Arthur! See me!

He zooms around Arthur, narrowly missing the toes of the person beside him. 

The baggage carousel is quite low. There are items on it

But....

Can't you jump things on skateboards?

Be So Sweet

Sorry to be leaving so early, says Belle. I have so much to do.

We are always up early, says Saint Méen.

Goodbye then, and thank you for everything, says Belle.

Every potato, says Terence.

And the loan of the beanie, says Roo-kai.

Two beanies, says Saint Maclou. 

Sorry one got eaten, says Roo-kai.

We are planning to follow it up, says Saint Méen. We suspect foul play on the part of Madame Ponty.

Which part? asks Terence.

Never mind, says Belle. At least you got your certificate from Madame Ponty.

Where is it? asks Terence.

O no! says Belle. Have you lost it already?

No, says Roo-kai. He hasn't. 

How do you know? asks Terence.

B, says Roo-kai. Remember?

My Christmas list! says Terence. He runs back inside. His Christmas list lies on the table.

Phew! says Terence. 

He runs back outside.

You wrote your list on the back of the certificate, says Belle. That was sensible. But perhaps I'll look after it now.

Okay, says Terence.

What's the B for? asks Belle.

A skateboard, says Terence.

Risky, says Saint Méen.

He looks at Saint Maclou, who nods briefly.

We hereby give you the gift of balance, says Saint Méen.

How lovely, says Belle. Terence, do you realise B is for balance?

What's the use of that? asks Terence.

You'll see when you get your skateboard, says Belle. Assuming you get it. Now we must go.

She lifts Terence into her panier velo, and gets on her bike.

Au revoir, mes amis!

She arrives at the train station in good time for her trip to Paris.

On the train she calls the Créperie Bretonne, and asks to speak to the waiter who wrote the Montmartre poem.

Does he have Arthur's bike?

He certainly does

She arranges to meet him outside the créperie, at six o'clock. And would he be so sweet as to take delivery of two bicycle flat packs, which she has ordered?

Bien sur, he supposes he would be

She texts Sweezus and asks him to order a skateboard.

She looks around for Terence, who is half way up the carriage showing the other passengers his great sense of balance.

All going well, she and Terence and Roo-kai will be back in Adelaide the day after Christmas.

  

List Of B

We'd better be going, says Saint Maclou.

Yes, says Belle. Terence and I are off to Paris in the morning.

Yay! says Terence. 

Bon voyage, says Madame Ponty. 

Thank you for the fish stew, says Saint Méen. And thank you for returning our beanie.

Thank you for sharing your baked potatoes, says Madame Ponty.

Indeed, says Saint Méen. We find potatoes are always a welcome addition.

Not at your house, says Terence.

Terence! says Belle.

They ONLY eat potatoes, says Terence.

True, says Saint Méen.

Perhaps you'd care to join me and Buster at Christmas, says Madame Ponty. I'll be cooking a plant-based turkey breast with all the trimmings.

The saints look alarmed,

Thank you for the offer, says Saint Méen, but, on Christmas day, we saints may be otherwise...

When's Christmas? says Terence.

Soon, says Belle.

Do I get a present? asks Terence.

I suppose so, says Belle. 

I meant, presents, says Terence. 

One present, says Belle.

They take leave of Madame Ponty and walk back to the saints' cottage.

I think I'll turn in now, says Belle. 

We'll sit up for a while, says Saint Méen. 

Me too, says Terence. I have to make a list of presents.

Saint Maclou finds him a pencil.

Terence thinks.

The saints sit at the kitchen table, drinking a bedtime glass of water.

Plant-based turkey! says Saint Maclou. 

Is there such a thing? asks Saint Méen.

Probably made with tofu or rice, says Saint Maclou. And possibly onion.

Makes a change from potato, says Saint Méen.

Marginal, says Saint Maclou.

She probably knew we wouldn't accept, says Saint Méen.

She probably did, says Saint Maclou. Did you hear that horse fart?

A very theatrical horse fart, says Saint Méen.

I agree, says Saint Maclou. I can't help thinking that Buster didn't eat the whole beanie...

The saints drone on, adding to their conspiracy theory. 

It is difficult for Terence to concentrate on his list of desirable presents.

Not to mention that writing is hard.

In fact B is the only letter he can do properly.

He starts the list.

B

Roo-kai looks over his shoulder.

Is this your Christmas list? asks Roo-kai.

This is how far I've got, saysTerence. 

What's the B for? asks Roo-kai.

You tell me, says Terence.

Bike, boat, ball, book? suggests Roo-kai. 

Skateboard? suggests Terence.

That starts with S, says Roo-kai.

Terence is disappointed.

A New Desperation

Have you twisted your ankle? asks Roo-kai.

Yes, says Saint Méen. I didn't see the rabbit hole.

Did you see the rabbit? asks Terence.

There was no rabbit, says Saint Méen.

What about the beanie? asks Roo-kai.

Buster appears to have eaten it, says Saint Méen.

I was right! says Terence.

You were right, says Saint Méen. I heard Buster buzzing.

He's in trouble, says Terence.

Not necessarily, says Saint Méen. I told him it would improve his disposition.

Where to? asks Terence.

A disposition remains with one, says Saint Méen. It does not move. You are thinking of a position. 

A position remains with one, says Roo-kai.

One what? asks Terence.

Anyone, says Saint Méen. Time we went back inside.

They go inside.

Belle and Saint Maclou are drinking their cocoa.

Where's Roo-kai's beanie? asks Belle.

Inside Buster, says Terence.

Buster would never eat a beanie, says Madame Ponty. 

He has a new desperation, says Terence.

Madame Ponty does not need to ask what that means. She rushes outside.

Belle re-heats Saint Méen's cocoa.

Thank you, Belle, says Saint Méen.

What's this new desperation? asks Saint Maclou.

I deliberately misled him, says Saint Méen. I told him henceforth he would have a kind disposition.

Perhaps he will, says Belle.

That is my hope, says Saint Méen. And he may persuade Madame Ponty to give us our beanie.

Yuck! says Terence.

Not THAT one, says Saint Méen. That one is a write-off.

Madame Ponty returns. She has taken off the beanie she was wearing.

These beanies are more trouble than they're worth, says Madame Ponty. You saints can have this one back. And I apologise about the other one. Poor Buster is exceedingly sorry.

She has not shut the door yet.

A volley of horse farts can be heard rumbling outside 

Bamboozled With Reason

 Saint Méen approaches Buster, who is still standing under the tree.

What now? says Buster.

I don't suppose you found a red beanie? asks Saint Méen.

Don't you? says Buster.

This is not the rude answer Saint Méen was expecting.

Did you? asks Saint Méen.

No, says Buster. Was it Roo-kai's or Madame Ponty's?

Why do you use the past tense? asks Saint Méen.

I'm assuming you've lost it, says Buster.

But it must still exist. says Saint Méen. Unless you have found it and eaten it.

Even then, says Buster, it must still exist. I used the past tense for a different reason.

Aha! says Saint Méen. I am glad to know you didn't eat it. What was the reason?

Too woolly, says Buster. And it smelled of fish stew.

I meant the reason for using past tense, says Saint Méen. But thanks for the clue.

A useless clue, says Buster. Both beanies had the same odour.

How annoying, says Saint Méen. When the beanies have been recovered, I must remember to ask Maclou to wash them.

Does he do the washing? asks Buster. What do you do?

The ironing, says Saint Méen. Though it's none of your business.

Let's say I had a nibble, says Buster.

Of the beanie? says Saint Méen.

Nzhhhh! neighs Buster (or was it a buzz?)

Wait! says Saint Méen. You HAVE eaten it! You have tried to bamboozle me with reason, but the buzz gives away your misdemeanour.

Okay, says Buster. Remind me next time not to bother with reason.

I'll remind you next time not to eat used beanies, says Saint Méen. Especially saints' ones.

What will happen? asks Buster. Should I be afraid?

You will find yourself acting kindly towards others, says Saint Méen.

Even if I don't want to? asks Buster.

Especially then, says Saint Méen. And ever after, you will retain a kind disposition.

Buster had not thought he might lose control of his disposition 

Now he's been told that he has.

Saint Méen walks away thinking that sometimes a lie is excusable, if the results are positive.

Buster watches him go.

Saint Méen stumbles, having stepped awkwardly over a rabbit hole.

Ha ha! thinks Buster, and then (bothering, after all, to use reason), Hooray!

Tree And Pony In Question

We need to warm up, says Madame Ponty. I'll make the cocoa.

I'll clear the table, says Belle.

Saint Méen peers out of the window.

You've left the outside light on, says Saint Méen.

Perhaps you'd like to turn it off for me, says Madame Ponty.

Where's Roo-kai? asks Terence. 

We'll find him, says Saint Méen.

He and Terence go outside. 

Saint Méen looks about for the light switch.

Wait, says Terence. Roo-kai might be coming.

They wait. But Roo-kai isn't coming.

Saint Méen turns the outside light off.

Perhaps Roo-kai feels unwanted, says Saint Méen. You left him alone in the tree.

He went there, says Terence.

He may feel bad, says Saint Méen.

He never feels bad, says Terence.

Maybe you just think that, says Saint Méen.

But he doesn't, says Terence.

Saint Meen wonders what Terence means by 'But he doesn't'.

Doesn't feel bad or doesn't think so. They are not quite the same.

He need not reply, however, as Roo-kai manifests himself at this moment.

Roo-kai! says Terence. I got my certificate!

Good for you, says Roo-kai. But I lost my beanie.

You can get another one, says Terence.

No he can't, says Saint Méen. It was only on loan. It must be returned by the morning.

I had it on when I flew over Buster, says Roo-kai.

Did you have it on when I slid off? asks Terence.

I think so, says Roo-kai. Then I flew into a tree.

Did it hurt? asks Terence.

I'm a bird, says Roo-kai. Not a helicopter.

Ha ha ! laughs Terence.

So the beanie has probably caught on a branch in the tree, says Saint Méen. How low were you?

Low enough to have a nice converstion with Buster, says Roo-kai.

I wonder, says Saint Méen, if Buster has found it?

And eaten it, says Terence.

I sincerely hope not, says Saint Méen.

He turns the light back on, and starts hurrying towards the tree and the pony in question.

Acorns In Beanies

 Did I do it? asks Terence.

Yes and no, says Madame Ponty. 

What's the no? asks Terence.

Your dismount was improper, says Madame Ponty.

What's the yes? asks Terence.

You are off, says Madame Ponty. And your bird made it harder.

It was not my intention, says Roo-kai.

Belle comes running.

Is Terence okay?

No harm done, says Madame Ponty. 

I got a no and a yes, says Terence. But the yes was longer.

You deserve it, says Belle. We all saw what happened.

Don't blame Buster, says Madame Ponty. He was spooked by your bird.

Roo-kai has retreated to a tree branch.

In the circumstances, I shall tick the last box, says Madame Ponty.

Yay! says Terence.

Let's get you inside, says Belle. It's freezing.

Is it? asks Terence.

He follows her in.

Madame Ponty unsaddles Buster.

Thank you, Buster, says Madame Ponty, patting Buster.

Why are you so nice all of a sudden? asks Buster.

It's this beanie, says Madame Ponty.

I don't get it, says Buster.

Wait and see, says Madame Ponty.

She leaves Buster to ponder.

But Buster is not one to ponder.

He feels restless. He trots to the tree.

Puzzled? asks Roo-kai, from a dark space above him.

Not me, says Buster. Humans are nuts.

Nuts are more predictable, says Roo-kai.

Nuts don't wear beanies, says Buster.

Acorns do, says Roo-kai.

Buster knows about acorns.

Haha-ee! neighs Buster. Acorns! You are funny!

So, no hard feelings? asks Roo-kai.

What for? asks Buster. 

I spooked you. I shouldn't have flown over you to carry out my plan to help Terence, says Roo-kai.

It could have been worse, says Buster.

Worse? says Roo-kai.

If you flew under me or behind me I'd have kicked you, says Buster.

That's why I didn't, says Roo-kai.

You might have died, says Buster. What was the plan anyway?

To help Terence get his leg over, says Roo-kai. Using science.

You deserve the beanie, says Buster. Not Madame Ponty.

I've already got one, says Roo-kai. See?

But it's dark. Buster can't see it.

Where Is Your Pommel?

Outside, in the shed, Buster is dozing.

A floodlight is turned on.

Bugger! snorts Buster.

Madame Ponty comes up.

Buster dear, will you do us a favour?

Who's us? grumbles Buster.

All of us, says Madame Ponty. 

Don't tell me. A night ride, says Buster.

A simple dismount, says Madame Ponty.

Terence appears from behind.

Did he say yes? asks Terence.

No, says Buster. Not yet. And you don't have a helmet.

You're right, says Madame Ponty. But for a dismount we can dipense with the helmet.

Okay, says Buster. 

She saddles him up.

And to save time, I'll lift Terence on, says Madame Ponty.

No, says Terence. I remember.

He does remember. Face Buster's bottom. Foot in left stirrup. Hoist yourself on.

Reins! says Madame Ponty.

Terence grabs the reins, and tries to hoist himself on.

Did I help you last time? asks Madame Ponty.

Yes, says Terence.

She helps him again. After all, it has nothing to do with dismounting.

Belle and the saints are at the fence watching.

Are you going to let Madame Ponty keep the beanie? asks Belle.

Not likely! says Saint Méen. But she may as well try to earn it. Terence will benefit.

Terence is sitting on Buster. Now for the dismount.

Terence remembers the procedure. Feet out. Hold onto the pommel.

The pommel!

Where's your pommel? asks Terence.

How should I know? asks Buster.

I went stiff last time, says Terence,

Have you gone stiff again? asks Buster. Do you want me to help you get off?

Buster has a nasty look when asking.

Where is Roo-kai?

Here he is, having finally eaten his mussel. Cooked ones are chewy.

Hurry up, Terence, says Madame Ponty.

What's the problem? asks Roo-kai.

I've lost the pommel, says Terence.

It's right there, says Roo-kai, indicating the pommel.

I knew I had a pommel, says Buster. Now get on with it.

Ha ha! laughs Terence. Get on with it! That's not dismounting.

Smart arse! says Buster. 

Leg over, says Roo-kai.

No prompting! says Madame Ponty.

She sees the saints looking at her. Niceness is required.. 

Okay, says Madame Ponty. I'll overlook that, but no more prompting.

Terence remains stiff. He can't start the leg over.

Roo-kai has an idea. He flutters up and over Buster.

Buster is spooked, and rears up a little. Terence slides sideways off Buster, not gracefully.

(a result, though it wasn't the plan)

 

Your Sad Face

Buzz. 

Is there a fly in the kitchen?

No, it is Madame Ponty's red beanie, which is not really hers.

Her angry look softens.

Which could be for one of two reasons.

One: The beanie has the power to soften angry expressions.

Two: She has thought of a plan, whereby the saints will allow her to keep the beanie.

Perhaps I have been too hasty, says Madame Ponty.

In doing what? asks Saint Méen.

In refusing Terence a certificate, says Madame Ponty.

We all thought so, says Saint Méen.

But something is having an effect on my conscience, says Madame Ponty.

Is it the fish stew? asks Belle.

No, dear, says Madame Ponty. 

The potatoes, says Terence.

No, says Madame Ponty.

My sad face, says Roo-kai.

Is that your sad face? asks Madame Ponty. It looks the same as before. O, but you didn't get your mussel!

She passes him a mussel with the tongs.

Terence, give me the certificate, says Madame Ponty.

Terence hands it over.

Madame Ponty unfolds it, finds a pen and starts ticking boxes.

She ticks every box except the last one : 'A successful dismount' .

She signs the certificate, and hands it back to Terence.

There you are, young man. It's the best I can do.

Let me see it , says Belle. This is great, Terence. Say thank you to Madame Ponty.

Perhaps next time he can perform the dismount, says Madame Ponty.

There may not be a next time, says Belle. We're heading to Paris in the morning.

Boo! says Terence.

Buzz! Madame Ponty's beanie buzzes.

How about this? says Madame Ponty. We go outside and ask Buster if he'll allow you to try a dismount.

Yes! says Terence.

In the dark? says Belle.

I'll turn the lights on, says Madame Ponty.

She looks at Saint Méen.

Saint Méen looks at Saint Maclou.

The saints agree silently.

Madame Ponty has displayed normal kindness. 

It will take more than this. 

Off-White, Her Favourite Colour

The fish stew is served, with potatoes and butter.

Enjoy! says Madame Ponty.

Where's mine? asks Terence.

This is yours, says Belle, tipping some cooled fish stew water into a glass.

Terence drinks it.

Roo-kai eats his mussel.

Well, this is delicious, says Saint Méen. You make a fine cotriade, Madame Ponty.

Thank you, Méen, says Madame Ponty.

May I have the recipe? asks Belle.

Of course, says Madame Ponty. As long as you realise that any fish will do.

I do realise, says Belle. 

What fish would you use back in Adelaide? asks Madame Ponty.

Flathead, says Belle. Sardines. Herrings.

And mussels, says Roo-kai.

Would you like another mussel? asks Belle.

I'll get it for him, says Terence.

He leans forward towards the stew pot, in the centre of the table.

He can't quite reach it.

But that doesn't matter. He'll climb onto the table. 

He climbs onto the table, and crawls towards the stew pot.

Terence! says Belle. What terrible manners! Come back and sit down

Never mind, says Madame Ponty, He just wants to be kind to his bird. Here Terence, use these. No fingers in the stew pot!

She offers him the tongs.

Terence turns to take them.

Now Madame Ponty can see the folded certificate in his shorts' pocket.

Only the top of it. But she knows it is one of hers. She can see the top words: "Certificat d'équitation"

And the colour is also distinctive. Off-white, her favourite colour.

What is that in your pocket? asks Madame Ponty.

Nothing, says Terence, turning, and edging back to his seat without the mussel.

It is most certainly nothing, says Madame Ponty. My certificats d'équitation are valueless without my signature.

Bumhole, says Terence.

Everything has gone wrong, and no one is looking too happy.

The Nature Of Pockets

 Potatoes or fish stew first? asks Madame Ponty.

Potatoes, says Saint Maclou. If we don't eat them soon, they'll go cold.

And the butter won't melt, says Saint Méen.

Yes, the butter, says Madame Ponty. Perhaps Terence would like to fetch the butter. It's in the pantry.

She points to the pantry.

Terence walks towards the pantry. 

Why are you walking like that? asks Saint Méen. 

Like what? asks Terence.

With your hands in your pockets, says Saint Méen.

I always do, says Terence.

No you don't, says Saint Méen.

There's nothing in them, says Terence.

He takes his hands out of his pockets.

The top of the folded certificate is now showing.

But luckily for Terence he is now in the pantry.

Perhaps you should serve the fish stew, says Saint Maclou.

Yes, says Madame Ponty. It's quite hot.

Speaking of which, says Saunt Méen, tapping his beanie.

Say no more, says Madame Ponty. I know you want this one back.

She taps her own beanie ( which, strictly speaking, is not hers to tap)

She begins to serve the fish stew.

This looks amazing, says Belle. What's in it? I know there must be at least three types of fish.

Bass, wrasse, and sardines, says Madame Ponty. And of course the twelve mussels.

Roo-kai has his eye on the mussels.

Could Roo-kai have a mussel? asks Belle.

Of course, says Madame Ponty. She picks a mussel from the stew with her tongs.

May I ask why Roo-kai has not been asked to return his beanie? asks Madame Ponty.

His is on loan, says Saint Maclou. 

Perhaps we could come up with a similar arrangement, says Saint Méen.

Perhaps, says Madame Ponty. Where is that infant with the butter?

Terence has not found the butter. It is dark in the pantry.

He comes out with a pack of rice crackers.

Madame Ponty realises she will have to go to the pantry.

She gets up to go, avoiding Terence, who has returned to Roo-kai's side of the table.

Great! She has not seen the folded certificate.

What can I have? asks Terence.

Perhaps some fish stew without any lumps, suggests Belle. It is kind of pinkish.

That will be the red onion, says Saint Méen.

Terence climbs up to sit on the stool between Roo-kai and Belle.

The certificate is now only visible from directly behind him.

This being the nature of pockets.

Think About The Science

Push or pull? asks Roo-kai.

Push! says Terence.

Roo-kai shoves Terence from behind.

Terence doesn't budge for some reason.

You must be too heavy, says Roo-kai.

Help me! cries Terence.

Roo-kai thinks about the science. If he pushes Terence's legs up from below, Terence's weight should do the rest.

I'll try pushing you up from below, says Roo-kai.

Okay, says Terence.

Roo-kai pushes Terence's cement legs upwards.

Terence tips, and slides in through Madame Ponty's office window. At last!

Are you okay? asks Roo-kai from outside the window.

Yes! says Terence. Come in with me!

Roo-kai flutters in through the window.

Sniff. What's that good smell? Fish stew?

Terence tiptoes across to Madame Ponty's desk and takes a certificate from the top of the pile.

Yay! I've got one, says Terence. Now what?

There is a noise, like the front door opening.

And Madame Ponty saying: Do come in! Those potatoes look appetising. 

And Belle saying: I do love your beanie, it looks kind of retro.

And Saint Méen saying: She'll be giving it back

And Saint Maclou saying: Your fish stew smells heavenly. Is it a true cotriade?

And Madame Ponty replying: Maclou, what do you think?

Then footsteps making their way to the kitchen.

They're all here! hisses Roo-kai.

Now what? asks Terence.

Fold up that certificate, says Roo-kai. And put it in your pocket. And wait.

Terence does it.

Roo-kai flaps out of the window, and knocks on the front door.

Madame Ponty opens it.

Message for Belle, says Roo-kai.

Come in, says Madame Ponty.

Roo-kai follows her into the kitchen.

Roo-kai! says Belle. Is Terence with you?

He's nearby, says Roo-kai. Follow me

Excuse me, Madame Ponty, says Belle. I'm just going to get Terence.

She follows Roo-kai outside and round to the open office window.

He's in there, says Roo-kai.

Belle pokes her head in.

Terence! What are you doing?

Getting my certificate, says Terence.

Stealing it, says Belle. Right. Well, you can't just walk through to the kitchen. It'll look too suspicious.

She climbs in through the window. Helps Terence out. Closes the window. Walks with him round to the front door, and ushers him in.

Roo-kai follows.

Sometimes, things work out badly, but at other times, they work out rather well.

That Is Not Hair

At last it is evening. Time for dinner.

The saints have made baked potatoes.

The potatoes are in a large bowl on the table, tops pierced, letting the steam out.

Anyone for butter? asks Saint Méen.

Yes, please, says Belle.

Saint Maclou goes to the pantry.

Dash it! No butter.

Never mind, says Belle. I'm sure they'll be delicious.

No, says Saint Méen. I'll pop across to Madame Ponty's. She always has butter.

Tell Terence to come in, says Belle.  He's still in the garden.

Saint Méen goes out through the garden.

Terence is nowhere in sight.

Saint Méen continues towards Madame Ponty's.

Her lights are on. He can see her through the window,

She is stirring some soup, and....what has she done with her hair?

Wait. That is not hair. It's a beanie.

He knocks on the door.

Madame Ponty opens it, holding a ladle.

A fishy smell wafts out.

I'm making fish stew, says Madame Ponty.

Very fancy, says Saint Méen. 

Thought I'd treat myself, says Madame Ponty. But I've made far too much.

About that beanie you're wearing...? says Saint Méen.

Oh, yes! says Madame Ponty. Many thanks. I assume it's a thank you for Terence's lesson.

Err...would you mind giving it back? asks Saint Méen. We prefer not to let them out of the cellar.

Nonsense, says Madame Ponty. Terence's bird wore one, when he made the delivery.

This must be resolved, says Saint Méen. Meanwhile, may I borrow some butter?

Certainly, says Madame Ponty. Come in. In fact, why don't you ask your friends to come over, and help me consume this fish stew? 

Very kind of you, says Saint Méen. We'll bring our baked potatoes.

What a feast we shall have, says Madame Ponty.

Her beanie buzzes. 

Tch! tuts Saint Méen.

Madame Ponty turns on the radio.

La la lah!

Saint Méen makes his way back to the cottage, thinking hard.

How to recover that beanie?

He therefore fails to notice Terence's short cement legs, protruding from Madame Ponty's office window.

Halo Power

Did it work? asks Terence, when Roo-kai returns.

Yes, says Roo-kai.

How? asks Terence.

The window to Madame Ponty's office is unlatched. says Roo-kai. That means we can easily get in this evening.

Yay! says Terence.

Saint Méen comes outside.

So! says Saint Méen. The beanie was for Roo-kai. That was thoughtful, Terence.

Yes, says Terence.

Do remember to put it back in the cellar, when you come in, says Saint Méen.

Is it valuable? asks Roo-kai.

Let's just say, I wouldn't like it to fall into the wrong hands, says Saint Méen. You may have noticed it still has some buzz left.

Yes, says Roo-kai. I did notice.

Not very powerful, of course, says Saint Méen. The real power resides in our haloes.

I see, says Roo-kai. May I keep it until later this evening?

Certainly, says Saint Méen. Just don't try anything silly.

He goes back inside.

Woo! says Terence. He doesn't know I took TWO beanies.

Lucky you didn't spill the beans, says Roo-kai. 

The beanies? asks Terence.

The information, says Roo-kai. You kept quiet. That was spy-like.

Now what? asks Terence.

We wait for tonight, says Roo-kai. 

Okay, says Terence. While we're waiting, tell me what happened.

She knew it was me, says Roo-kai. Because of my thin orange legs.

We forgot about those, says Terence.

Yes we forgot about those, says Roo-kai. But then I told her about the delivery.

Did she want it? asks Terence.

She wanted it, says Roo-kai. She went to try it on in her bedroom, and that's when I ran into her office and unlatched the window.

That was brave, says Terence. 

I know, says Roo-kai.

Hey, wait! says Terence. If you were in her office, why didn't you steal a certificate?

Am I your parrot? asks Roo-kai.

What a dumb question.

Yes, says Terence.

So I do what's best for you, says Roo-kai.

The red beanie buzzes softly, who knows for what reason.

I had to think quickly, continues Roo-kai. I knew you were looking forward to breaking into the office and stealing the certificate tonight, so I simply unlatched the window. Tonight we shall have an adventure.

Buzz! goes the beanie.

But I might not wear this, says Roo-kai.

Chic And Retro With Buzz

Roo-kai knocks on Madame Ponty's door.

The door opens.

You again, says Madame Ponty.

How did you recognise me? asks Roo-kai.

Your thin orange legs, says Madame Ponty. 

So much for my disguise, says Roo-kai.

Indeed. But the hat is effective, says Madame Ponty. And I see that you carry a spare.

Not a spare, says Roo-kai. This is a delivery.

For Buster? asks Madame Ponty.

For you, says Roo-kai.

I haven't ordered a holey red beanie, says Madame Ponty.

Then it must be a gift, says Roo-kai.

Who is the sender? asks Madame Ponty.

I would need to check the paperwork, says Roo-kai.

Never mind, says Madame Ponty. Come in. 

Very kind, says Roo-kai.

He enters the vestibule.

Give me the beanie, says Madame Ponty. I'll try it on. It will make me look chic and retro.

She takes the beanie into her bedroom.

Roo-kai wonders if he has time to enter her office and unlatch a window.

He can hear Madame Ponty trying the hat on.

Hmm. Non! Ahh! Très bien. Buzzz! Ooh! Qu'est que c'est?

She seems to be trying variations. Positioning and repositioning the holes. And fiddling with the buzz.

He dashes into the office, past the desk with its pile of certificates, and across to the window.

He unlatches the window, leaving it closed.

He dashes back to the vestibule where Madame Ponty left him.

She comes out, in the red holey hat, looking, if not chic, certainly retro.

Tell the saints I am honoured to receive this, says Madame Ponty. I have dreamed of owning one of their old beanies. And this one still has plenty of buzz.

Roo-kai bows, and turns to leave.

Plenty of buzz. He wonders if the beanie he is wearing has any buzz left. 

He pulls it down till his beak pokes through one of the holes, and hears a faint buzzing sound. 

Bingo! It does!

Why Not? He Could Have

The afternoon passes slowly.

Terence is sitting outside, under a tree.

Roo-kai comes and goes.

Here he comes now.

Well? says Terence. Did you spy though her window?

I did, says Roo-kai. There's a pile of papers on her desk in the front room.

Did they look like certificates? asks Terence.

Hard to say, says Roo-kai. The window was closed. 

Why don't you knock on her door? asks Terence.

A spy wouldn't do that, says Roo-kai.

A tricky spy might, says Terence. Knock on her door and ask for a drink of water.

All right, says Roo-kai. 

He goes.

Terence dreams about his certificate. What will be on it?

"Terence has learned to do mounting and squeezing with his knees and kicking with his heels to start his pony".

"He has not fallen off when his pony has run at a tree".

"He can easily do dismounting". (Why not? He could have.)

signed, Madame Ponty.

Roo-kai returns.

That was quick, says Terence.

She directed me to her bird bath, says Roo-kai. 

Did you look hot and thirsty? asks Terence.

Yes, says Roo-kai. I was hoping she would open a window.

Because it was hot, says Terence. Good thinking.

But she didn't, says Roo-kai.

What about a delivery? asks Terence.

I can't very well turn up with a delivery, says Roo-kai.

You could if you wore a disguise, says Terence. Wait here. I'll get one.

He runs inside, and looks around. 

Hello Terence, says Saint Méen. Feeling chilly?

Yes, says Terence. Can I borrow your beanie?

Not this one, says Saint Méen. But there are some old beanies down in the cellar.

Terence runs down the stone stairs. Yes! There are several old beanies hanging on hooks there.

Terence has a brainwave, and takes two.

He runs upstairs with the beanies. 

Found one? asks Saint Méen.

Yes, says Terence, running fast so that Saint Meen won't ask why he took two.

Roo-kai is waiting outside.

Here, says Terence. Put one of these on.

They are both red, with holes in. Roo-kai chooses one.

You're not coming, says Roo-kai. What's the other one for?

It's the delivery, says Terence.

Great, says Roo-kai. 

He goes, wearing one beanie and carrying one in his beak.

It's going to take all his ingenuity to make this delivery convincing.

Doubtful But Strangely Excited

Terence stomps into the saints' kitchen.

How was the lesson? asks Saint Méen.

I learned EVERYthing, says Terence.

Yet you do not look happy, says Saint Méen.

BECAUSE, says Terence, I didn't get a certificate.

Belle comes in. 

Mmm! says Belle, sniffing. What's for lunch? It smells delicious!

A special lunch treat! says Saint Maclou, looking up from the oven.

Inside the oven the special lunch treat is nicely browning.

I hear Terence didn't get a certificate, says Saint Méen.

Yes, says Belle. Just because he was lifted off instead of dismounting.

Saint Méen looks at Terence.

Could you have dismounted? asks Saint Méen.

Yes, says Terence. As soon as I got unstiffened. 

Madame Ponty is really strict, says Belle. I think Terence was overwhelmed with instructions.

Yes, says Terence. And now I'm overwhelmed with not having a certificate.

We could make you a certificate, says Saint Maclou. How would that do?

Terence doesn't think it would do.

That would be nice, says Belle. But it wouldn't be the same. What's that you're cooking?

Duchesse potatoes, says Saint Maclou. They should almost be ready.

He opens the oven again. They are ready!

He pulls out the tray, using a tea towel, and sets it down on the table.

Yummy! says Belle. It's years since I had duchesse potatoes.

What are they? asks Terence. 

Mashed potatoes piped into little frilly mounds, and then browned, says Belle. 

Terence has a closer look at the duchesse potatoes.

Potatoes again. Not that yummy.

Can I go outside? asks Terence.

Sure, says Belle. I'll bring you a drink, in a minute.

Terence goes outside. Roo-kai is waiting.

You've got a certificate, says Terence.

Yes, I got one for spying, says Roo-kai.

So I should get one for riding a pony, says Terence. 

I know, says Roo-kai. But there's not much we can do about it.

We could sneak into Madame Ponty's house at night and take one, says Terence.

What good would that do? asks Roo-kai.

Then I'd have one, says Terence.

It wouldn't have your name on it, says Roo-kai. 

So what? says Terence. We could fix that later.

Roo-kai is doubtful about one or two aspects of Terence plan, but also strangely excited.

It brings back memories of the time he spied on the unfinished Collins Class Type 471 French submarine, with Baby Pierre, back in Adelaide, and stole the French instructions for drilling a periscope hole, for which action he received his Chevalier des Clandestines medal.

All right, says Roo-kai. We'll do it.

Stiff All Of A Sudden

That was hard, says Terence.

Yes, you didn't fall off, says Buster.

I had a straight back, says Terence.

You weren't very flexible, says Buster.  

Madame Ponty and Belle arrive at the gate.

Now to dismount, says Madame Ponty. You must do it correctly.

Do I have to turn round and face Buster's bottom? asks Terence.

Of course not, says Madame Ponty. 

He's remembering how he got on, says Belle.

Obviously this is different, says Madame Ponty. Now Terence, remove both feet from the stirrups.

Terence removes them.

Hold the reins in your left hand, and with your right hold the pommel.

Madame Ponty points to the pommel.

Now hoist your right leg over Buster's hindquarters, and gently drop down beside him, says Madame Ponty.

Terence prepares to start hoisting.

Remember to land with your knees slightly bent, says Madame Ponty.

Got that? snickers Buster.

No! says Terence. I've gone stiff all of a sudden.

Never mind, says Belle. I'll get you off in jiffy.

She puts one arm around Terence, and lifts him down from Buster.

That is unacceptable, says Madame Ponty. Terence must re-mount and dismount properly, if he wants a certificate.

Wah! cries Terence. I do want a certificate.

You can come back tomorrow, says Belle. 

No he can't, says Madame Ponty. I'm busy tomorrow.

So am I, says Buster.

All right, we'll call that it, then, says Belle. How much do I owe you?

Nothing, says Madame Ponty. It was a favour.

Goodbye, Madame Ponty, says Belle. Goodbye, Buster. And thanks.

Terence has marched off already.

No way he is saying goodbye or thanks to Madame Ponty or Buster.

Roo-kai, perched on the fence near the gate post, foresees trouble.

Who Is The Instructor?

Is my lesson finished? asks Terence.

Not at all, says Madame Ponty. You must trot back to the gate, where you mounted. 

Go! says Terence, squeezing Buster's sides with his knees.

Very good, says Madame Ponty. Follow up with a mild kick with your heels.

I'm not moving, says Buster.

What is it, Buster? asks Madame Ponty. Sore tummy?

Buster nods, in a pony-like fashion.

Just take Terence back to the gate, then you can relax, says Madame Ponty.

Yes, says Terence. Go! You have to. You ate the whole pancake.

I knew it! says Madame Ponty.

How was it? asks Belle.

It doesn't matter how it was, says Madame Ponty. He shouldn't have had it.

Neither should Terence, says Belle. 

What do you mean? asks Madame Ponty.

You forced him to eat it, says Belle. Though it's my fault, for not saying in time.

Such misunderstandings, sighs Madame Ponty.

She pats Buster.

Buster moves off towards the gate at a fast trot, before Terence is ready.

But Terence remains in the saddle.

Well done Terence! calls Madame Ponty. Heels down! Back straight and flexible!

What's flexible? asks Terence.

Only Buster hears the question.

Bendy, says Buster.

How can I keep my back straight AND bendy? asks Terence.

That's your problem, says Buster.

Can we go back and ask? asks Terence.

I suppose so, says Buster.

He turns and heads back to the tree.

Non! Non! cries Madame Ponty. Look where you want to go!

Maybe he wants to ask a question, says Belle.

Tut! He forgets Buster has a sore tummy, says Madame Ponty.

Buster stops. 

He knows Madame Ponty will not like this question.

How can I keep my back what you said? asks Terence.

Straight? asks Madame Ponty.

And bendy, says Terence. 

Who said it had to be bendy? says Madame Ponty.

You, says Terence.

Flexible! says Madame Ponty. It's not the same thing.

It's not that different, says Belle.

Who is the instructor? asks Madame Ponty.

You, says Belle. But it was rather clever of Terence to know that flexible means bendy.

When it doesn't, says Madame Ponty.

It's clear she is in a bad mood.

What she means, I suppose, says Belle, is try and keep your back straight as possible, while moving your bottom back and forth to match the movement of the pony.

It's called having a good seat, says Madame Ponty. And there's a great deal more to it.

Okay! says Terence.

Let's see if you learned it, says Buster. 

I learned it! says Terence.

Buster trots back to the gate, fast.

Terence keeps his back straight, and doesn't fall off, but that's all.

Buster Is Rumbled!

What's happening? asks Belle.

Do you think these are fossils? asks Madame Ponty, showing her the stone snails.

They look familiar, says Belle.

Do you know a lot about fossils? asks Madame Ponty.

Belle is about to answer when Terence notices what Madame Ponty is holding.

His curls. 

They're mine, says Terence. But you can keep them.

How did they get there? asks Belle. Did you fall off Buster when we weren't looking?

No, says Terence. I didn't fall off. Even when Buster ran straight at the tree branch.

Buster would never do that, says Madame Ponty.

He did, says Roo-kai. I saw him. But the curls were already loose under Terence's helmet.

Yes, says Terence. They were rattling.

Take off your helmet, says Belle. Let's look at the damage.

Terence takes off his helmet.

Now Belle and Madame Ponty can see his cool hairstyle, which is short on the sides.

Not bad, says Belle. It makes you look older.

I am older, says Terence. Does it make me look cool?

It makes your ears look cool, says Belle.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

Just a joke, says Belle. Of course you look cool. But I wonder how the curls came off in the first place?

I must confess that it could be my fault, says Madame Ponty. I jammed his helmet on hard.

Yes! says Terence. That's when it happened.

No harm done, says Belle. Helmets will fit him more easily. But his other hat may need taking in. 

What other hat? asks Terence.

Your sun hat, says Belle.. 

I thought I lost it, says Terence. 

Not the sun hat, says Belle. I still have it somewhere.

I don't need it, says Terence. 

You're right there, says Belle. It's quite cloudy and chilly.

Does he want the curls back? asks Madame Ponty. He should have them. He might get cold ears.

Ha ha! laughs Terence.

What's so funny? asks Madame Ponty.

What Belle said, says Terence. About cool ears. Not what you said.

But Madame Ponty is bending down again to pick up the bottom half of the pancake. 

She doesn't like seeing dropped food in her field.

This is only the bottom half of a pancake! says Madame Ponty.

Buster burps a pancakey burp and tries, too late, to alter its direction.

Sniff-sniff! Madame Ponty sniffs it.

Buster is rumbled! 

Feared By Molluscs

The rolled-up pancake lies on the ground.

Now you can eat it, says Terence.

Unroll it first, says Buster.

You unroll it, says Terence.

I’ll unroll it, says Roo-kai.

Roo-kai unrolls the pancake.

The inside of the pancake has not changed much.

The smiley potato peel mouth is still there.

Which half do you want? asks Roo-kai.

The top half, says Buster.

Easy, says Roo-kai.

Not so easy, says Buster.

Why? asks Roo-kai.

I know! says Terence. He wants the eyes back!

No I don’t, says Buster. I hated those eyes. I was glad when they fell off. Remember?

What then? asks Terence. Hurry up, I’m missing my lesson.

And he is right. Madame Ponty is looking at her watch, and making gestures.

The actual top half, says Buster. Can you split it?

You mean like this? says Roo-kai.

Swoosh! He rips his beak through the pancake, in a way feared by molluscs.

The top half of the pancake is separated from the bottom half of the pancake.

And both halves are thin.

Take the mouth off! says Buster.

Okay, says Roo-kai, removing the smiley mouth without even touching the pancake.

At last Buster is satisfied with the pancake.

His mouth is open, about to eat it, when Madame Ponty arrives.

What’s going on here?  Why did you stop? Is that a pancake?

Yes, says Terence.

Dear me, did you throw up? asks Madame Ponty. And what are these stones on the ground? They look like snails. But....could they be fossils?

She bends to pick up the fossils.

Buster gobbles the top half of the pancake while she is bending.

When she stands up the bottom half is still on the ground, looking similar.

Yay! No one will get into trouble.

 

Cool New Hairstyle

Where were you? asks Terence.

In the tree, says Roo-kai.

You could have stopped us, says Terence.

I could not, says Roo-kai. 

Now look, says Terence. My helmet's come off.

You wanted it off, says Buster.

Because something was loose inside it, says Terence.

Now we can see what it was, says Roo-kai.

My hair, says Terence.

Cement curls are not hair, says Buster.

They were my hair, says Terence. This is your fault.

Not my fault, says Buster. You said there was something loose in your helmet BEFORE I ran at the low branch on purpose.

So what? says Terence.

Logic, says Roo-kai. It wasn't his fault.

How do I look now? asks Terence.

Roo-kai tilts his head to one side. 

You look cool, says Roo-kai. Very short on the sides.

Do you want to go on with the lesson? asks Buster.

Yes, says Terence. I just need to put on the helmet.

Roo-kai picks up the helmet. Terence puts it back on.

It goes on easily thanks to his cool hairstyle.

He squeezes Buster's sides with his knees and gives him a kick with his heels.

No go! says Buster. I'm not moving without my half pancake.

What's this? asks Roo-kai.

Madame Ponty made me eat a pancake, says Terence. 

He was supposed to be giving it to me, says Buster. Half before the ride, half after, if it went smoothly.

I see, says Roo-kai.

But now I'd be happy with half, says Buster. Or less than half. It depends what it looks like.

Shall we find out? asks Roo-kai.

There are  advantages to not being a parrot, on such occasions.

A parrot's beak is short.

An oystercatcher has a long one.

Open up, Terence, says Roo-kai.

Terence opens his mouth.

Roo-kai plunges his beak in and draws out the pancake.

It's still rolled up.

Now to unroll it.

Cement Curls Tinkle

Stop running, says Terence.

I'm trotting, says Buster. It's what ponies do.

I'm in charge, says Terence. 

So prove it, says Buster.

Terence squeezes Buster's sides with his knees.

Ow! says Buster. What are you made of, cement?

Yes, says Terence. Can you please stop for one second?

Okay, says Buster. When I get to that tree.

Buster trots even faster, and stops suddenly, at the tree.

He looks across to where Madame Ponty and Belle are standing and no doubt watching.

But they are not watching.

Thank you, says Terence. I need to take off this helmet.

You can't, says Buster. You have to wear a helmet.

Something's loose inside it, says Terence.

Okay, says Buster. Take it off and shake it. 

But Terence can't get it off. Let alone shake it.

I'll help you, says Buster, if you give me my half of the pancake.

I swallowed it, says Terence.

You said it was stuck in your throat, says Buster.

It is, says Terence. And didn't you want the whole thing?

Buster had wanted the whole pancake.

But now, one half seems enough.

Okay, help me, says Terence.

Your helmet will probably come off as well, says Buster.

That will be useful, says Terence. 

Right now it would really be useful if Roo-kai would appear in the tree.

Because anyone can see that Buster is plotting.

If not what exactly.

Buster glances again at Belle and Madame Ponty, who are looking at Belle's phone for some reason.

(Perhaps Belle is showing Madame Ponty the waiter's Montmartre poem).

Buster backs away from the tree, stops, then gallops towards a low branch.

Ding! Crack! Tinkle!

Terence helmet is off, and so are a few of his curls.

They lie on the ground near the helmet.

But no pancake has issued from Terence.

Buster is not good at science.

Now Roo-kai flutters down.

Yes. He was in the tree, and did nothing.

We Call It Mounting

Terence is not chewing.

Madame Ponty assumes he has finished his pancake.

Et maintenant! says Madame Ponty. Knee bends!

Terence tries a knee bend. 

He is more flexible than I expected, says Madame Ponty.

Yes, says Belle. He should have no trouble climbing onto a pony.

We call it mounting, says Madame Ponty.

Hear that Terence, says Belle. Mounting is the same as getting on.

It is not simply getting on, says Madame Ponty. There is a proper procedure.

I know, says Terence. You run up and jump on.

You don't, says Madame Ponty. The procedure is this. Left foot in the stirrup, holding the reins in your left hand, propel yourself up and over.

Okay, says Terence. Let's do it!

They go out to the field. Madame Ponty calls to the pony.

Buster! Come here!

Buster comes over. What has Terence done with the pancake?

Helmet! cries Madame Ponty. I forgot it. Wait here. Get acquainted. I'll be back in a minute.

Off she goes, for a helmet.

She comes back. Put this on, Terence, while I saddle him up.

She goes across to a shed for the saddle.

This is exciting, isn't it, says Belle.

It might not go smoothly, says Terence.

Buster nods. 

Yes, it might not go smoothly.

Why do you say that? asks Belle. 

The pancake, says Terence. 

You shouldn't have eaten it, says Belle.

Buster's eyes widen. My pancake!

What? says Terence. You didn't want it.

I do now, says Buster. Those were potato peelings. And they fell onto the ground. So now it's a normal pancake. Or it would be.

It still is, says Terence. It's just in my throat somewhere,

 Poor you! says Belle. Would you like me to try and extract it?

Too late, Madame Ponty has come back with the saddle. She puts it on Buster.

It takes ages. At last Buster is ready.

Prêt à monter, says Madame Ponty. Face this way, Terence.

Terence can't believe it. She is telling him to face towards Buster's bottom.

Ha ha, snorts Buster softly.

Pat him, to show that you're friendly, says Madame Ponty. Now, hold the reins, and place your foot in the stirrup.

Terence does it.

Now boost yourself up and throw your right leg over, says Madame Ponty.

Go on, snickers Buster.

Terence makes an effort.

I'll help you, says Madame Ponty.

Now Terence is on. Yippee! He is facing the right way as well. 

Sit up, shoulders back, says Madame Ponty. Relax. Grip the reins. Exert pressure with your legs and give a slight kick with your heels.

Terence is just trying to obey the first order (sit up) when Buster moves forward quite quickly. 

Very good! calls Madame Ponty.

I wasn't ready, says Terence.

Too bad. Now it's just you and me and the pancake, whinnies Buster.

Eyes Of The Pancake

It is morning at last.

Time for my lesson! says Terence.

Breakfast first, says Belle.

They go downstairs to the kitchen, where the saints are busy cooking.

Potato pancakes! says Saint Méen. The first one is ready.

He flips it onto a plate.

Is that mine? asks Terence.

It could be, says Saint Méen. I thought you didn't eat pancakes.

No he doesn't, says Belle. But he'd still like to have it.

Yes, Terence would like to have it. 

He stares at his pancake. It looks plain. What it needs is a face.

There is not much in the saints' kitchen to make a face with. 

Only potato peelings, and there are plenty of them.

Terence makes a face on his pancake with some of the peelings.

The mouth is brown and smiley. The eyes look sneaky.

He rolls it up with the face on the inside.

Can I wait outside? asks Terence.

Okay, says Belle. I'll be out as soon as I've finished my pancake.

Terence goes outside with his pancake. 

The pony is at the fence, looking over.

Greetings! says Terence. Are you better?

Better? says the pony. I'm the best! I'm the only pony Madame Ponty has, so I must be.

From the bad sugar, says Terence. 

O that, says the pony. Went right through me. What's that in your hand?

A pancake, says Terence. It's for you. But you only get it after.

Are you joking? asks the pony. Don't tantalise.

What then? asks Terence.

Give it to me now and I'll make sure your lesson goes smoothly, says the pony.

Okay, half, says Terence.

He unrolls the pancake. The pancake's sneaky eyes fall to the ground.

What are those? asks the pony.

Eyes, says Terence.

They look like potato peelings, but the thought is enough to spook a pony.

The pony backs away.

Belle comes out to fetch Terence.

Nice, says Belle. You've made friends with the pony. 

Yes, says Terence.

Right, let's go round to meet Madame Ponty, says Belle. We'll go the long way.

The long way is not very long.

Soon Belle is knocking on the door of Madame Ponty.

Welcome! says Madame Ponty. Is this the young person who's having the lesson?

Yes, says Belle. This is Terence.

He doesn't look very flexible, says Madame Ponty. He must do some warm-up exercises first  And what's this? A pancake? I hope it's not for the pony. 

It's Terence's breakfast, says Belle.

Then he must eat it, says Madame Ponty. A good breakfast is essential. Eat up, young man.

Terence shoves the pancake into his mouth before Belle can explain that Terence doesn't normally eat things.

This does not augur well.

Jammed By Shorts

Arthur and Pierre-louis eat the Kit Kats.

Give us the paper napkin, says the knowlesi.

You won't need it now you've got your poem back, says Pierre-louis.

What about the other one? says the knowlesi.

What other one? asks Pierre-louis. 

The other one, says Quiet-tartus. Not the cat one.

The one I gave back to Arthur wasn't a cat one, says Victor. 

Give it to me, says Quiet-tartus.

He unfolds it, and shows it to Arthur.

This is the lizard one, says Arthur. You never had the cat one.

The rana kept the cat one, says Pierre-louis. But if you remember, I took a copy.

That reminds me, says Arthur. I have to send it to Belle.

I'll do it, says Pierre-louis.

He already has her number. He sends it to Belle.

....

Buzz! In Saint Malo Belle gets a message.

It's 3 am, but she is awake, thanks to Terence, who is balancing on the window sill in preparation for his pony ride tomorrow.

She looks at her message.

Oh, how sweet. It's a poem from Pierre-louis.

Are my frogs in it? asks Terence.

Yes they are, at the end, says Belle. 'Everything remains normal until these three frogs'.

That's a really good poem, says Terence. 

Be careful! says Belle. You don't want to fall out of the window. That would be the end of your pony ride tomorrow.

You mean the beginning, says Terence.

The beginning of no pony ride, says Belle. If you broke something.

Like the window? says Terence. I can't break it, it's already open.

Crumbs! says Belle, getting up quickly to close the window before Terence falls out.

Terence leans back to avoid her interference.

But does not fall out.

She has grabbed his cement ankles.

Now she closes the window behind him, jamming his shorts in the process.

I'm stuck, says Terence.

That's a good thing, says Belle. You can stay there till morning.

She goes back to bed, to re-read the poem.

Arthur must love you, says Terence.

This poem is from Pierre-louis, says Belle.

He must love you, says Terence. He stole it from Arthur.

It doesn't sound like Arthur's sort of poem, says Belle.

It's a waiter, says Terence. Arthur told me.

AHA! says Belle. The waiter's poem. Arthur wants me to to use it as ID. 

Like a spy, says Terence. 

Yes, says Belle. When I show it to the waiter, he'll know I'm there to pick up Arthur's bike.

You could just tell him, says Terence.

But I could be anyone, says Belle. 

She turns over and goes back to sleep.

Terence remains stuck on the window sill, jammed by his shorts. He can't even see out of the window, which is behind him.

Belle is mean. 

And stupid. 

And she couldn't be anyone.

Cats as Metaphor

An announcement.

Their flight is delayed for three hours.

At least we have something to do, says Pierre-Louis.

Where are we up to? asks Quiet-tartus.

Line two, says Arthur.

The one about cats? says the knowlesi.

Catacombs, says Pierre-louis.

O desoo, says Quiet-tartus.

What does that mean? asks the knowlesi. 

Where the cats are, says Quiet-tartus. At least I suppose so.

Your pronunciation is inaccurate, says Pierre-Louis. Properly speaking, it is 'au dessus', and yes, it would be where the cats are, except for one crucial factor.

Which is? asks the knowlesi.

There are no cats, says Pierre-Louis.

Who says? asks Quiet-tartus.

In the poem, says Pierre-Louis. 

Then it wasn't as good as we thought, says the knowlesi.

No, says Quiet-tartus. We thought the cats were a metaphor.

Perhaps the catacombs are an even better metaphor, suggests Pierre-Louis.

What for? asks Arthur.

What's underneath, says Pierre-Louis.

That's pretty ordinary, says Arthur. I like the cat one.

Don't you start, says Pierre-Louis.

Is anyone writing this down? asks the knowlesi.

No paper, says Pierre-Louis. How about I get some from the men's room?

Toilet paper? says Quiet-tartus. That's unpoetic.

How about buying some snacks? says Arthur. Snacks with paper wrappers.

A great idea. Pierre-Louis goes off.

Victor appears in the departure lounge. He sits down next to Arthur.

Here's your poem, says Victor. I shouldn't have kept it.

I know says Arthur. It's incriminating.

Exactly, says Victor. It seems you and I think alike.

But I think alike faster, says Arthur.

Ha ha, laughs Victor.

Pierre-Louis returns with the snacks, wrapped in a paper napkin.

Two Kit-Kats,

He's the only one who thinks it is funny.

In A Cracked Valley

These are Australian frogs, says Pierre-Louis. We're returning them to Australia.

Then where is your paperwork? asks the biosecurity officer.

We don't have it at the moment, says Pierre-Louis. 

What are those papers in the lunch box? asks the biosecurity officer.

A poem, says Pierre-Louis.

The biosecurity officer removes the lid from the lunch box.

Quiet-tartus and the knowlesi are silent.

At such times it is best not to talk.

The biosecurity officer pulls the many-times-folded papers out from underneath them and reads the poem.

As I suspected, a French poem, says he.

Why is that relevant? asks Pierre-Louis.

An Australian poem would have backed up your story, says the officer. This French poem does not.

Arthur has ended his phone call to Terence, and joined Pierre-Louis.

What's up? says Arthur.

Paperwork, says Pierre-Louis. I don't suppose you have it?

No, says Arthur. Who wants it?

This officer, says Pierre-Louis. 

Arthur turns to the officer.

Victor! says Arthur. What are you doing in Paris?

International experience, says Victor. A strategic career move.

You look good with that moustache, says Arthur,

Just blending in, says Victor. Now what's with these frogs?

Lost their bicycle, says Arthur. At the end of the Tour.

Were there frogs in the Tour? asks Victor. I didn't notice.

In Baby Pierre's team, says Arthur. He lost his bike too, and ran off to le Havre, so Belle followed him there with the frogs. 

This is all irrelevant, says Victor. No paperwork, no boarding. And that's just the frogs. You and your friend here are facing wildlife smuggling charges.

I know you love paperwork, says Arthur.

Not French paperwork, says Victor.

He thinks about all the French paperwork involved in wildlife smuggling charges

Okay, I'll accept this poem in lieu, says Victor. Go through, and count yourselves lucky.

They go through. 

Hey! shouts Quiet-tartus, when do we get our poem back?

You don't need it, says Arthur.

We do! cries the knowlesi. 

We should have made a copy, says Pierre-Louis. But perhaps we can remember it?

They sit in the departure lounge, trying to remember it.

Jullouville  (they remember)

Dans une vallée crevassée......

Try To Stay On

The taxi driver drops them at the Charles de Gaulle airport.

Pierre-Louis pays.

Bonne chance! says the taxi driver.

Thanks, says Pierre-Louis. 

Remember your frogs, says the taxi driver.

Frogs? says Pierre Louis. I thought Arthur had them.

They're on the back seat in a lunch box, says the taxi driver.

He rolls down the back window. 

Pierre-Louis reaches in and picks up the lunch box.

A crisis averted.

They enter the terminal and join a long queue.

At least we don't have bikes to worry about, says Pierre-Louis. I hadn't thought about flat packs.

Me either, says Arthur. But Belle will do it.

Have you called her? asks Pierre-Louis.

Hold the lunch box, says Arthur.

He gets out his phone.

Arthur? says Belle. What is it?

Hi, says Arthur. Can you do me a favour?

Maybe, says Belle. 

I left my bike outside the Crêperie Bretonne, says Arthur. 

And? says Belle.

I was wondering if you could pick it up when you get to Paris, says Arthur.

It'll have been stolen, says Belle.

The waiter has probably locked it up somewhere, says Arthur.

Probably, says Belle. Okay, I'll see what I can do. Do you want to speak to Terence?

No, says Arthur.

He wants to speak to you, says Belle.

Okay, says Arthur. Put him on.

Guess what? says Terence. My pony ride is tomorrow.

Lucky you, says Arthur. Have you practised?

No, says Terence. How can I?

Sit on something high, says Arthur. And try to stay on.

Okay, says Terence.

Wait, says Arthur, tell Belle I'm sending her a poem.

Do you LOVE her? asks Terence.

No, says Arthur. It's about Montparnasse. And your frogs are in it. 

Yay! says Terence.

And tell her the waiter wrote it, says Arthur.

Why? asks Terence. 

I've got to go, says Arthur. Just tell her.

Okay, says Terence. Good bye.

Arthur did have to go, due to a problem.

The frogs have gone through the scanner, in the lunch box, and Pierre-Louis is being questioned by a bio-security officer.

Not Being Physically Present

It's a half hour drive to the Charles de Gaulle airport.

In the back seat of the taxi, Arthur closes his eyes.

Soon he'll be on his way back to Australia. It will be summer. 

He will go surfing.

Which reminds him. Where is his bike?

Merde! He has left it outside the Crêperie Bretonne!

What's wrong? asks Pierre-Louis.

Bike, says Arthur. Why didn't you remind me?

Bike? says Pierre-Louis. Our bikes! We left them outside the Crêperie. We'll have to go back.

I don't carry bikes, says the taxi driver. Not unless they're flat-packed.

Curses! says Pierre-Louis. I can't turn up at Vello's without a bike. I won't qualify.

You in a race? asks the taxi driver.

That's not the problem, says Pierre-Louis.

Qualify for what then? asks the taxi driver.

I'm being interviewed for Velosophy, says Pierre-Louis. 

Since when did you need a bike for that? asks the taxi driver.

You obviously don't subscribe, says Pierre-Louis.

I don't, says the taxi driver. But an interview is two people talking. One asks the questions.

The other must own a bike, says Pierre-Louis. 

You can surely talk about it without it being physically present, says the taxi driver.

The problem is, says Pierre-Louis, Vello never liked me. He may not believe I ever had a bike. He may think I'm a non-cycling philosopher trying to wheedle my way into his magazine, under false pretences.

Perhaps you could talk about the philosophy of loss, says the taxi driver.

Of my bicycle? says Pierre-Louis. There's a thought. Arthur what do you think?

Just borrow one, says Arthur. Yours was old anyway. Mine was a good one.

Oh yes, says Pierre Louis. Here's me, only concerned for myself.

Doesn't matter, says Arthur. I'll call Belle. She'll be coming to Paris after her holiday in Saint Malo. 

By then your bike will have disappeared, says Pierre-Louis. Unless that waiter has found it.

Yes. Arthur realises that a series of lucky events needs to happen if he's to get his bike back.

1 the waiter finds it.

2 the waiter realises it's his

3 the waiter still wants to please Arthur

4 in spite of what Arthur did with his poem

5 (giving it to a frog)

6 the waiter stores the bike somewhere

7 locked up, so it does not get stolen

8 Belle turns up a week later to claim it.

9 she thanks the waiter profusely

10 she praises his poem (of which Arthur has sent her a copy)

11 she flat packs the bike and takes it with her to the airport

12 she flies home.

13 the first thing she does is call Arthur

14 to arrange a meeting to give him his bike

15 which she will have unpacked and put back together when he gets there

16 okay, item 15 may be pushing his luck

Immortalised!

The writers and artists gather in front of the rana.

S'il vous plait! Read your poem again!

The rana re-reads it.

It is very evocative, say the writers and artists.

Thank you. But I did not compose it, says the rana.

Who did? ask the artists and writers, 

They look about, and spot Arthur, who does in fact look like a poet.

It's not just the hair and the eyes, and the scabby knees either. He looks familiar.

Not me, says Arthur.

But you do look familiar, says one of the writers.

Is he that cyclist? asks an artist.

Ah oui, says the writer.

The author of the poem is a waiter at the Crêperie Bretonne, says Pierre Louis. And I believe he has made two extra hand written copies.

None of the artists and writers are currently in need of a crêpe. And anyway, they have no money. So they do not go. 

But several tourists with cameras head off.

The waiter will be pleased, says the rana.

Let us hope so, says Pierre-Louis. But now I must call a taxi to take us to the airport. 

So this is goodbye, says the rana. Thank you for bringing me to Paris. 

Goodbye, says Quiet-tartus. 

Are you keeping that copy? asks the knowlesi.

Of course, says the rana. It will serve to remind me.

But it won't remind us, says the knowlesi.

You should have waited for the waiter to make you a copy, says the rana.

There is no problem, says Pierre-Louis. I shall photograph the rana's copy. Hold it up, rana.

The rana holds up his copy. 

Pierre-Louis takes a snap.

There, immortalised! says Pierre-Louis.

He then calls a taxi.

A taxi arrives promptly.

Arthur, Pierre-Louis and the Australian tree frogs get in.

The taxi driver insists that the frogs should be in a container.

Luckily, Pierre-Louis still has the lunch box he got on the train.

Waiting For Something Montparnassey

The three pieces of worm have been eaten.

The frogs hop back up.

Arthur and Pierre-Louis finish off the cider.

Now one of us must depart, says Pierre-Louis. 

Me, says the rana. I shall miss you all. Goodbye.

You can't just hop away on this busy pavement, says Pierre-Louis. We'll look for some greenery.

Arthur points at a tree.

We can do better than that, says Pierre-Louis. Just round the corner is the Eglise Notre-Dame des Champs, with a grassed area in front of it.

Church! says the rana. O, I don't know....

There will be other frogs, says Pierre-Louis. And water.

Okay, says the rana, but first, may I hear that fine poem again?

You can keep it, says Arthur.

He starts folding the poem. 

The waiter comes up behind him.

How did you like it?

I liked it so much I'm giving it to this frog, says Arthur. 

That is not encouraging, says the waiter.

The frog liked it, says Arthur.

Yes, says the rana. We all liked it. Because we were in it. This poem will be a reminder of the time we frogs spent together.

But there is only one copy, says the waiter. Would you like me to make you two more?

Yes, says the rana, then each of my frog friends can have one.

We only need one copy, says Quiet-tartus. We share things.

The waiter hurries away. He intends to make two copies, one for Arthur.

But while he is busy trying to remember how his poem went, exactly, (did it mention the war? or did he ditch that line altogether?) ....

Arthur, Pierre-Louis and the frogs have headed off down the footpath to the Eglise Notre-Dame des Champs.

Arthur and Pierre-Louis set the frogs down on a low wall. 

There are painters ( painting) and writers (writing)  and tourists with cameras, all waiting for something Montparnassey to happen.

And it happens.

The rana unfolds his poem, 'Montparnasse'. 

He reads it in French.

The writers and painters love it because they are in it.

Those who don't speak French conjure up long-haired cats and their combs.

Skulls Don't Need Combs

Lets eat the ants! says Quiet-tartus. 

And the worm! says the knowlesi.

Okay! says the rana.

The three frogs hop down.

But the ants are already scurrying away with the spitball.

That leaves the worm.

Wait! says the worm. I only came for the poetry reading.

No kidding! says Quiet-tartus. How did you even know there was going to be a poetry reading?

This is Montparnasse, says the worm. 

Did you hear the one just now? asks the knowlesi.

Yes, says the worm. The one about cats.

The one about US, says Quiet-tartus. 'All remains normal until the three frogs'.

I thought I heard 'cats', says the worm.

In the poem? asks the rana.

At the start, says the worm. 

Catacombes, says the rana. 'Au dessus des catacombes'.

That was it, says the worm. Beautiful words. I pictured long-haired cats.

Did you? says the rana. I pictured skulls.

You're weird, says the worm. Skulls don't have hair. So they wouldn't need combs.

You're weird yourself, says the rana. You're a worm. But you don't know the catacombs?

I haven't been here that long, says the worm.

Ha ha! laughs the knowlesi. How long does a worm have to be?

Ha ha! laughs Quiet-tartus. You haven't got long!

The worm begins to realise from these enigmatic jokes that the frogs plan to eat him.

He starts to wriggle off quickly. 

Cut him off! cries Quiet-tartus.

The rana hops over the worm and lands in front of him.

The worm doubles back.

Only to face Quiet-tartus.

The long and the short of it is that soon he is in three equal pieces.

And Crazy Writers

Arthur eats his galette ratatouille.

He does not look at the poem.

The waiter hovers nearby.

Why doesn't he read it?

To be honest, Arthur is annoyed.

Crêpe verte? asks Pierre-Louis, cutting a slice for the knowlesi.

Why is it green? asks the knowlesi.

Do you want it or not? asks Pierre-Louis.

I'll have it, says the rana.

He nibbles a corner.

It's spinach.

He spits it back out.

It lands on the poem.

Manners! says Quiet-tartus.

I'll get rid of it, says the knowlesi. It was kind of my fault.

That's what I call good manners, says Quiet-tartus.

Tant pis! says the rana. No one likes spinach.

I do, says Pierre-Louis.

The knowlesi hops onto the paper, and kicks the spit ball over the edge of the table.

Ants appear.

The knowlesi looks at the paper which now sports a greasy green blob.

Sorry your poem got spoiled, says the knowlesi.

It's not my poem, says Arthur, pouring himself a large glass of cider.

It was under your galette, says Pierre-Louis. Why don't you read it?

You read it, says Arthur.

It's called "Montparnasse".

Pierre-Louis reads it. He looks impressed.

Superbe! You frogs will appreciate this!

Read it to us! says the knowlesi.

Près d'une colline/ au dessus des catacombes/ les poètes declament/ Tout est fini! says Pierre-Louis.

We don't like it, says Quiet-tartus.

I like it, says the rana.

You're French, says the knowlesi.

It's not finished, says Pierre-Louis. Shall I read the rest in English?

Yes, says Quiet-tartus. 

But it is not over/ painters arrive, and crazy writers/ afterwards, all remains normal/ until these three frogs.

Pierre-Louis stops. How did you like it?

Are the three frogs us? asks the knowlesi.

I imagine so, says Pierre-Louis.

The frogs are cock-a-hoop. This more than makes up for the spinach.

Furthermore there are ants on the ground.

 And a worm. 

Who knows where that came from?

Have A Crêpe

Gare Montparnasse. 

Arthur and Pierre-Louis get off the train with their bikes and the lunch box.

Now where? says Pierre-Louis.

Airport, says Arthur.

Shouldn't we dispose of the rana? asks Pierre-Louis.

Okay, says Arthur.

He opens the lunch box.

Not here! says Pierre-Louis. Let's at least find some grass.

Are we in Paris? asks the rana.

Yes, says Pierre-Louis. The end of the line for you. What were you planning to do here?

Have a crêpe, says the rana.

Nice of you to wait, says Pierre-Louis.

Let's all have a crêpe, says Quiet-tartus. Where's the nearest crêperie?

Oh, a crêpe! says Pierre-Louis. Do we have time? 

Sure, says Arthur. Flight leaves at midnight.

They wheel their bikes along a few streets to the Crêperie Bretonne.

And find a table outside.

A waiter approaches.

Attention messieurs! It is forbidden to eat your own food at this crêperie.

What? says Pierre-Louis. We have no intention!

Then what is in this lunch box? asks the waiter.

These are our frogs, says Pierre-Louis. As you see, they are not edible. And they wish, like any customer, to order a crêpe.

We do not have a small size of plate that would be suitable, says the waiter.

Oh, come on! says Pierre-Louis. They have their own paper. 

He pulls at the edge of the paper.

The triangles and parallelograms extend like a concertina.

Oi! says Quiet-tartus. Watch out!

We cannot serve a crêpe on a used piece of paper, says the waiter. What are these squiggles?

Never mind, says Pierre-Louis. Arthur and I will share our crêpes with the frogs. 

Is it a poem? asks the wailter, looking at one of the parallelograms more closely.

Yes, says Arthur. A waiter in Jullouville wrote it. It's not a bad poem.

May I unfold it and read it? asks the waiter.

We would prefer you to take our order, says Pierre-Louis. We have a plane to catch at midnight.

Bien sur, says the waiter. What would you like?

A galette ratatouille says Arthur. 

A crêpe verte, says Pierre-Louis. It should please the frogs. And a large jug of cider.

The waiter goes off, and returns twenty minutes later with the order, 

Arthur sees something sticking out from beneath his galette.

It's a  poem that the waiter has dashed off in the kitchen.

Back To Scratch

Stop! cries the rana. You haven't solved anything!

Quiet-tartus and the knowlesi can see that they haven't.

We should have been more methodical, says Quiet-tartus.

Crumpled paper now fills most of the space in the lunch box. There is just room for them.

This is like being in the clouds, says the knowlesi.

Clouds don't have poems, says the rana.

But sometimes they crackle, says Quiet-tartus.

Neither the rana nor the knowlesi can disprove this, so they must let it go.

Now what? asks the knowlesi.

When things have gone pear-shaped, says the rana, put them behind you and start again from scratch.

But what's scratch? says Quiet-tartus.

How it was, says the rana.

The papers were folded, says the knowlesi. But we didn't do it.

Ask Arthur or Pierre-Louis to do it, says the rana.

Easy to say.

But Arthur has his eyes closed and Pierre Louis is thinking of answers to pertinent questions that Vello might ask him, when they meet.

Furthermore, the frogs are obscured by crags and valleys of unfolded paper.

They can't see us, says the knowlesi.

Then we must improvise, says Quiet-tartus.

Yes, says the knowlesi. Improvise how?

We make our way to the highest peaks, says Quiet Tartus, and trample them down.

Simple.

They make their way upwards, until their heads touch the lid of the lunchbox.

They trample their way down.

Now there is space again in the lunch box.

The papers are flattened and creased into triangles and parallelograms, and other less well known shapes.

Some of the triangles and parallelograms (and less well known shapes) have words on them, some are blank.

You might call it a mashup.

We may as well sit on it, says the rana. You guys can sort it out in Paris.

It's the only solution.

The frogs must sit on the triangles and parallelograms (and other shapes) until Paris.

This is no fun, grumbles Quiet-tartus. Geometrical shapes pressing into our underparts.

Let's make it fun, says the knowlesi.

He stands up and presents his underparts to the other two. What is it, and what does it say?

It's a triangle, that says nothing, says Quiet-tartus.

Wrong! say the knowlesi. I was sitting on Saint Michael.

Aha! Now the other two get it.

You match up the shape with the word that you sat on.

It's tricky because some shapes are empty.

The game keeps the frogs occupied all the way to Gare Montparnasse, Paris