Team Philosophe and Team Condor are picnicking, in a grassy meadow.
Katherine has brought provisions, in a basket. Fish from Lake Geneva, apple Matafan.
Sirene has spread out a cloth. Terence is helping.
Nice shorts, says Vello. What are they? Someone's underpants?
Yes, says Terence. I had to take my shorts off.
Yeah, says Sweezus, I washed them.
Good, says Katherine. Did you take out the mealworms?
What mealworms? asks Sweezus.
Never mind, says Katherine. Who'd like a glass of Chasselas?
Me, please, says Pablo.
Me too, says David, and what's in this pastry? What are the lumps?
Ask Sirene, says Katherine. She bought it.
O yes, says Sirene. In Lausanne. It's called taillé aux greubons.
Groo-bons, says Terence.
But what are they? asks David.
I don't know, says Sirene. But it looked like a protein.
Vello googles the greubons.
A crackling product, residue from rendering lard.
Lard, says David. I say! Try it, Arthur.
Arthur tries it. He's had several glasses of Chasselas, so it doesn't taste bad.
What's the fish? asks N F S Grundtvig.
Perch fillets from Lake Geneva, says Katherine. They'll go well with these potato fritters.
Vello tries the perch and potato fritters.
Very nice, Katherine.
Sirene opens a fifth bottle of Chasselas.
How well we are doing! says N F S Grundtvig, leaning back happily.
We are, says David. Did you see me yesterday? Almost caught up with Bob Jungels.
It was thanks to the whizzed leeks and sausage, says Katherine.
It was not, says Vello. I had mine. Nothing happened.
What about you, N F S ? asks Pablo. What effects did you notice?
I was inspired in a spiritual way, says N F S Grundtvig. A new hymn came to me.
Vello is delighted. A hymn!
Sing it, Grunty!
N F S burps loudly, and sings.
O lord your bounty is boundless
For in our hour of need
Came your divine inspiration.
Whizzing David into the lead.
Everyone agrees this is not a bad hymn, for an improv.
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