Its Own Little Cupboard

Gaius starts making the Waldorf salad.

Can I have the shells? asks Terence.

Yes, if you keep them together, says Gaius.

He has cracked a few walnuts open. One or two have split neatly. 

I bought barramundi, says Wittgenstein. Most people like barramundi.

They do, says Gaius. How will you cook it?

Fry it, says Wittgenstein. I hope there's a pan.

He opens more cupboards.

Haruki arrives, with the oysters.

Good to see you, Haruki, says Gaius. Are these local oysters?

Of course, says Haruki. What's this? Barra?

Yes, says Wittgenstein. .

Great, says Haruki. I've also brought lemons and beer.

Sit down, make yourself at home, says Gaius. Perhaps you could help shell some walnuts.

Certainly, says Haruki. He takes several walnuts and cracks them in half. 

Brain food, says Haruki, thrusting a walnut at Terence.

I don't need brain food, says Terence. Can I have the shells?

Here, says Haruki.

I'm giving them hinges, says Terence.

Walnuts don't have hinges! says Haruki. Oysters have hinges. Allow me to show you.

He takes the sharp knife, and inserts it into the shell of an oyster.

Crurrk! Squee! 

See there, that's the hinge, says Haruki.

He opens and closes the oyster.

Just like a car door, says Haruki.

Or a cupboard, says Terence.

Smart kid, says Haruki.

Shall we eat the oysters before I start frying the barramundi? asks Wittgenstein.

Can I have one? asks Terence.

Sure. Have this one, says Haruki.

Terence now has his own oyster.

He picks up a walnut.

The walnut would fit into the shell of the oyster, if the oyster came out.

The walnut would then have its own little cupboard.

The grownups are tucking into their oysters.

They don't notice what Terence has done.