Hoo Nooz

Finished your coffee? asks Gaius.

I have, says Pierre-Louis. We should get going.

Is Easter Morning coming with us? asks Terence.

Yes, says Gaius. You can look after him in the carriage. Call out, if there's a problem.

Okay, says Terence.

They leave the old wooden building and head for the bikes.

Apples! says Pierre-Louis. Did you get any?

No! says Gaius. Thanks for reminding me.

He goes into the store, and comes out with a bag of red apples.

They were expensive! But they should keep us going, says Gaius.

Terence climbs into  the carriage, waking Squattu.

Is it night time? asks Squattu.

No, says Terence. But guess what?

What? asks Squattu.

Easter Morning swallowed the pink thing from the top of my milkshake, says Terence.

Squattu looks at Easter Morning.

He doesn't look well.

 His body is stiff, and his legs stick out at right angles.

He can lie next to me, says Squattu.

Terence slips Easter Morning under the blanket, next to Squattu.

Now what? says Terence.

I'll talk to him, says Squattu. 

Okay, says Terence. And I'll make him a poem.

Gaius shoves the bag of red apples into the carriage.

Look after these, says Gaius. How's that blanket?

Good, says Terence.

Gaius is pleased. He gets on his bike. 

Our blanket's dry, says Gaius.

That's good news, says Pierre-Louis.

Gaius and Pierre-Louis start cycling towards the Warburton Highway.

In the carriage, Squattu asks Easter Morning:

What was the pink thing you you swallowed?

Hoo nooz, says Easter Morning.

Open your mouth, says Squattu. I'll look into it.

Easter Morning opens his mouth.

Squattu sees only darkness.

Look at his bumhole, says Terence. That's where it's going to come out.

No thanks, says Squattu. 

The moth did, says Terence.

Squattu is starting to find this whole thing distasteful.

She goes back to sleep.

Poo-em, says Easter Morning.

Terence understands. Easter Morning is asking for the poem he promised.

Terence is good at making up poems when someone has died.

For example: A dog has died. Or a frog. Or a crab. Or a spider.

But Easter Morning has not died. 

This will be harder.