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.