Is That Your Stomach?

Camus opens the boot of his electric car.

Looks inside.

Turns to face Victor 

Thumbs up!

Victor takes this to mean that Camus has found the touch-up kit that he mentioned.

Great, says Victor. 

Grruuurrr!

Is that your stomach? asks Camus.

Yes, says Victor. I haven't had breakfast.

Nor have I, says Camus. Why don't you go and ask Gaius. He always has something. 

All right, says Victor. You get started on the scratches. I'll bring something back.

Once Victor is out of sight, Camus gets into his electric vehicle.

Merde! The battery is low.

But there should be enough to get him to Mawson Lakes.

He drives off, making minimal noise.

Gaius is chatting with Roo-kai when Victor approaches.

Any scratches? asks Gaius.

A few, says Victor, but Camus found a touch-up kit. I just came down to see if you had anything we could nibble for breakfast.

Gaius checks his supplies.

One apple, two squashed strawberries, a drooping carrot, a small chunk of cheese with teeth marks at both ends. A few bottles of spring water.

Wait, says Gaius. Camus may have something.

He looks into Camus's shopping bag.

Yes. A large packet of Twisties.  

Take these, says Gaius. Camus bought them.

Thanks, says Victor. And I'll take the apple as well, if it's going begging.

It's not going begging, says Gaius. But you're welcome to have it.

Victor returns to the carpark with the apple and Twisties. 

Bugger! Camus's vehicle has gone.

He should have suspected.

He looks at the bonnet of his police car.

Is it possible the job has been done?

No. There are the scratches. 

But Camus can't have got far. He could pursue him.

Grruuurr! 

Instead he opens the packet of Twisties, and commences to eat them.

Crunch! 

Policing is hard.

Too Late When I Realised

How did that go? asks Gaius.

Good, says Terence. I cleaned all the poo off.

So I see, says Gaius. There's some on your shorts.

Only a little bit, says Terence. I stopped using these shorts and used my parrot shorts. 

Your new ones? says Gaius. Was that wise?

The parrot shorts are a sacrifice, says Terence.

Very kind of you, says Victor. But am I to understand you did the cleaning?

Yes, says Terence. Camus lifted me up.

Surely he didn't place you on the bonnet! exclaims Victor. 

He had to, says Terence. Or I couldn't have done it.

HE was supposed to do it, says Victor. 

Victor hurries off to the car park, foreseeing trouble. 

There are bound to be scratches.

Camus is on his way back to the beach.

You let Terence do it! says Victor. I bet there are scratches.

A few, says Camus. It was too late when I realised.

How am I going to explain this to my superiors? says Victor.

Surely you often get scratches on police cars, says Camus. 

Not on the bonnet, says Victor. More on the sides.

Will you have to explain it? asks Camus.

I'll have to file a report, sighs Victor. Another one!

You could forget mine, says Camus. Or at least make it shorter.

And why would I do that? asks Victor.

I'll keep quiet about you locking me in the police car overnight with no access to a toilet, says Camus.

You said you didn't want to go, says Victor.

Camus shrugs.

Victor realises that's not the issue. He should have checked on Camus later on.

All right, says Victor. But you won't get away with poisoning the peregrine falcon.

I admit I did that, but unknowingly, says Camus. 

They regard one another.

Is it all worth it? thinks Victor.

If I could just persuade him to give me my car keys, thinks Camus.

What if I have a go at disguising the scratches? asks Camus. I think there's a touch-up kit in the boot of my electric vehicle.

Victor would normally be suspicious. After all, why would there be a touch-up kit in a hired vehicle?

But it's been a long morning. And he hasn't had breakfast. And it would be great if there was.

He gives Camus the car keys.

I'm All The Others

Camus and Terence return to the police car with the gecko shorts.

Can I do it? asks Terence.

Certainly, says Camus.

You'll have to lift me, says Terence.

Camus lifts Terence onto the bonnet.

Terence is on his knees examining the bird poo.

Don't move about too much, says Camus. 

Why not? asks Terence.

Scratches. says Camus. Victor won't like them.

Give me the gecko shorts, says Terence.

Victor hands them to him.

Now tip the water, says Terence.

Camus tips some tap water onto the bird poo.

Terence starts rubbing.

Bumhole! mutters Terence.

What is it? asks Camus.

This is hard, says Terence. And the geckoes keep moving.

Impossible! says Camus. And why does it matter?

I don't want the geckoes to get ruined, says Terence. I really love these geckoes.

That doesn't leave much cloth for the cleaning job, says Camus.

Can you fold it? asks Terence.

He hands the shorts to Camus. 

Stay in that position, says Camus.

Okay, says Terence.

Camus folds the gecko shorts with most of the geckoes turned inwards.

Except for one.

What about that one ? asks Terence. It's staring at me.

It's the sacrificial one, says Camus.  

What does that mean? asks Terence.

The one that takes a punishment on behalf of all the others, says Camus.

Like you, says Terence.

Not like me, says Camus. 

I stole the car keys, says Terence. So I'm all the others.

You're a minor, says Camus. You won't be punished.

Nor will this gecko, says Terence.

He stands up, and takes off his parrot shorts.

He hands them to Camus.

He puts on his old faded gecko shorts.

They've got poo on them, says Camus 

Not on their faces, says Terence.

The geckoes stare beadily. That's good to know.

Terence kneels again. 

Camus hands him the parrot shorts and tips more water onto the poo.

Terence wipes. Squeh-squuh-squeh-squuh.

The bird poo is now on the parrot shorts.

Terence doesn't care. 

Camus lifts Terence down from the bonnet.

Terence runs back to the beach.

Camus takes a look at the cleaning job.

Sees all the scratches.

Alors! Perhaps he should leave now.

He looks across at his electric vehicle.

If only he still had the keys!

An Ambiguous Finger

Camus follows Victor to the car park.

A word of advice, says Camus.

I don't take advice from criminals, says Victor.

I am not a criminal until proven, says Camus.

True, says Victor. What's the advice?

Don't waste the spring water, says Camus. There's a tap in the toilets.

Good advice, says Victor. Here, take the empty police water bottle. 

What for? asks Camus.

Fill it up from the tap in the toilets, says Victor. 

Camus takes it and heads for the toilets.

Rinse it out first! calls Victor. Make sure you get rid of the sea water.

Camus raises an ambiguous finger.

Victor opens the bottle of spring water, and drinks some.

Camus is being very cooperative. Not like before with the list of crimes that he threw out of the police car window. Perhaps he'll agree to a plea bargain.

Camus returns with the tap water

Now wash that bird poo off, says Victor.

You should do it, says Camus. It's your police car.

Police property, says Victor. Not mine. 

Got a sponge? asks Camus.

No, says Victor.

Camus tips the tap water onto the white and black bird poo. 

But it has dried.

Got a handkerchief? asks Victor.

No, says Camus. But Gaius might. He's the handkerchief type.

He is, says Victor. But he is also the type who forgets to ensure that he has one.

Let's ask him, says Camus.

Victor is right. Gaius thinks he might have one. But he hasn't.

Sorry. Can't help you, says Gaius. But there's bound to be something.

He rummages through his back pack and pulls out a small pair of gecko shorts.

Yay! my old gecko shorts! says Terence.

Mind if I borrow them? asks Victor.

Ha ha! laughs Terence. They won't fit you.

To wipe off the bird poo, says Victor. Camus will rinse them out when he's finished.

How come he has to do it? asks Terence. You're the one who locked him into the police car.

Victor stiffens.

And he needed a wee, says Terence. And you gave me your police hat, so I was in charge, and I let him out and then we escaped from your terrible cruelty.

So you stole my carkeys, says Victor.

They fell out of your pocket, says Terence.

I doubt that, says Victor.

But he is worried now. Terrible cruelty. Lack of security regarding the keys.

How might this play out in court? 

If I'd Known That

The police car pulls up at Saint Kilda.

Everyone gets out.

Gaius is sitting on the sand, shuffling his notes.

Guess what! cries Terence. I made a drawing of all the birds I spotted. 

Did you? says Gaius. Let me see.

He examines the drawing.

What are those? asks Gaius.

You have to guess, says Terence.

Before you do, says Victor, may I have one of your bottles of spring water?

Help yourself, says Gaius.

He wants to wash bird poo off the police car, says Terence.

What a waste of bottled spring water, says Gaius. Victor! 

But Victor has already gone off with the spring water.

I've half a mind to go after him, says Gaius. There'll be a tap in the toilets.

I'll go, says Camus. I need to get into his good books.

I suppose you do, says Gaius. Has he charged you with stealing a police car?

He's going to, says Camus. Unless I can come up with a reason why he shouldn't.

He let you steal it! says Ternce.

That is true, says Gaius. Did you steal his car keys?

No, I did, says Terence.

There you are, says Gaius. Go and confront him. And take this empty spring water bottle.

Camus is encouraged. The crime wasn't his fault. He goes.

Hello Waca! says Terence. I went for a drive in a police car.

Waca is dreaming that he is the only wooden migratory duck left of his species, after the demise of his brother....

What? says Waca.

And I made a drawing, says Terence.

Let's see, says Waca.

Now both Gaius and Waca are looking at Terence's drawing.

Neither of them can work out what the two black fart-shaped spots are.

Two black-winged stilts! says Terence. Roo-kai guessed it.

Roo-kai is remarkable, says Gaius. I would never have guessed it. The only similarity I can see between these black fart-shaped spots and black-winged stilts is that there are two of them.

They're both RUDE! says Terence.

So the black-winged stilts were rude to you, says Gaius. Perhaps if I'd known that....

What are these? asks Waca, pointing to the tinkles.

Let me guess, says Gaius. Hum. Tinkles. You saw an elegant parrot?

Yes! says Terence. Are they the ones that do tinkles?

They are, says Gaius. The tinkle is their alarm cry. Well done, Terence.

Thanks, says Terence. And this is a helpful butterfly.

Gaius and Waca admire the helpful butterfly, and do not remark that it lacks birdlike qualities.

Worse If Anything

On the beach at Saint Kilda, Gaius waits for Victor to return with the captives.

I wonder why he's taking so long, says Gaius

Would you like me to look for them? asks Roo-kai.

That'd be helpful, says Gaius. I would like my bike back.

And Terence, says Roo-kai.

Yes, of course, Terence, says Gaius. 

Roo-kai flies north.

Gaius watches him go.

I wish I could do errands, says Waca.

Keep an eye out, says Gaius. 

What for? asks Waca.

Their return, says Gaius.

What will you do? asks Waca.

Read my notes, says Gaius. 

Flip flip. He flips through the pages.

I wish I could read, says Waca.

I'll read aloud, says Gaius. 

The orange-bellied parrot is one of only three migratory parrot species in the world, reads Gaius.

Lucky them! thinks Waca. 

He sinks into a reverie.

Meanwhile Roo-kai has spotted the police car in the distance.

Should he circle? 

Why not?

He circles.

Look at that! Roo-kai's come to meet us, says Victor.

He stops the police car.

Roo-kai lands on the bonnet.

Off! yelps Victor.

Roo-kai is astonished.

Plop!

Victor gets out of the police car.

A thousand pardons, says Roo-kai. You gave me a shock. 

Tch! says Victor. Will you wipe it off or shall I?

You, says Roo-kai. I have nothing to do it with.

Victor reaches into the glove box of the police car where there should be some tissues.

But no. There are none, and in any case, a sponge would be better.

There should be a sponge in the boot. 

Roo-kai! shouts Terence. You're back! Come and look at my drawings.

May I? asks Roo-kai.

All right, says Victor. Get in. 

Roo-kai flutters in. Camus gets out.

Need a hand wiping the shit off? asks Camus.

Just looking for a sponge, says Victor.

Sea water'll do it, says Camus. You don't need a sponge. 

Salt water is bad for police cars, says Victor.

You can swish it again with spring water when we see Gaius, says Camus. He has plenty.

Okay, says Victor. Hand me that bottle.

Camus hands him the police water bottle, which contains the sea water he collected earlier. 

Victor sloshes it over the bird poo.

The small neat poo disintegrates and spreads in random white dribbles dotted with gritty black spots.

If anything, that's worse, says Victor.

Let's get going, says Camus.

They get into the police car.

In the back seat, Terence is showing Roo-kai the two black fart shapes.

Roo-kai has already guessed what they are.

Who Does What Who Does

Victor and Camus get back into the police car.

Victor starts driving.

You won't get away with anything, says Victor. 

I don't expect to, says Camus.

Then why throw the list of allegations out of the window? asks Victor.

Who knows why one does what one does? says Camus.

Is that one of your philosophical questions? asks Victor.

It could be, says Camus. 

I know why who does what who does, says Terence. 

Then you're a wise boy, says Camus.

Do something, says Terence. And I'll tell you.

No, says Camus. Oh... all right.

First you said no. says Terence. 

And why was that? asks Camus.

Because you don't think I can do it, says Terence.

That wasn't why, says Camus.

We have only your word for that, says Victor.

Are you playing? asks Terence.

No, says Victor. I'm just listening.

Camus wrests the pencil from Terence.

Hey! Why did you do that? asks Terence.

Hah! says Camus. You see, you have no way of knowing. 

Woo! says Terence. You win that one. Now it's my turn.

He grabs the pencil back from Camus.

Steady on in the back there! says Victor. No fighting.

Why did I do that? asks Terence.

I cannot know, says Camus. That has always been my position.

Yay! One all! says Terence. 

This is fun. 

Actually, though, says Camus. I can guess why you did it.

What? asks Terence.

Took back the pencil, says Camus. You wished to retaliate.

Can you wish that? asks Terence.

Do you know what it means? asks Victor. Payback. It's a motive for serious crimes.

You gave it to me, says Terence. And he took it for no reason. I'm supposed to be drawing the birds.

Let's see, says Camus. That one looks like a butterfly. And... what are those tinkles?

Tinkles, says Terence. And guess what these are?

Camus looks at the two black fart shapes.

 Ha ha! No way will he know.

Two Black Fart Shapes

Victor is thinking of adding more crimes to the list of Camus's misdemeanours.

5. Lying to the police (about the penguin pie )

But that may just confuse things.

It was too  long ago.

He'll let that one go by.

In the back seat, Camus has borrowed Terence's pencil.

He intends to write notes in the margins of Victor's list.

In the form of excuses.

But.... why should he? He rips off the top page.

Crumples it up in his fist. Tries to open the back window.

But this is a police car, and the back window can't be opened by a back seat passenger for obvious reasons.

Can we have some air in the back here? asks Camus. 

Victor opens the front window, on his side.

Camus leans forward and chucks out the crumpled paper.

Victor stops the police car.

Littering, says Victor. Another crime.

Can I have the pencil? asks Terence.

Take it, says Camus. 

Right! says Victor. Stay in the car, Terence. Camus and I are going to find and pick up that litter.

Victor and Camus get out of the police car.

Terence remains in the back seat.

What is he meant to do?

Oh yes. A drawing.

Of all the birds that he saw on the journey.

What was the first one? A parrot.

How do you draw a parrot with a pencil? And anyway, he didn't see it. Camus did.

Camus said it tinkled.

Terence draws a few tinkles.

What next?

Black-winged stilts. They were rude. They said Get off our sand!

He's not drawing them nicely.

He draws two black fart shapes. Ha ha!

But what about the butterfly who helped him get out of the mud hole?

It was friendly. 

He draws the butterfly.

And the blue holes.

The blue holes have to be the colour of pencil.

It doesn't matter. He looks at his work. It's good.

Meanwhile Victor and Camus have come back. They were unable to find the crumpled paper.

Camus had not tried.

Used Against You

The police car is not badly damaged.

Nor is the tree.

Get in, says Victor.

We should wash our feet first, says Camus.

No, I'll bag them up, says Victor.

He opens the boot.

He takes out a multi-pack of disposable shoe pop-overs.

We use these at crime scenes, says Victor. Put them on.

Camus puts his on.

Terence's pop-overs are too baggy.

Don't worry, I'll knot them, says Victor. That will make them smaller.

Okay, says Terence.

At last they are all in the police car. 

Terence and Camus are in the back seat, with Gaius's bicycle wheels in between them.

The rest of the bicycle is in the boot with various police tools.

Right, says Victor. Off we go. And remember, anything you say may be used against you.

Terence tries to think of something he would like to be used against him.

A ladder, says Terence.

What are you talking about? asks Camus.

No, not a ladder, says Terence. A pony. And the ladder could be used against the pony. Or a camel, if it was a big enough ladder.

My warning was about WORDS, says Victor. Not things.

Words can be used against you, says Camus. Remember when Gaius made a joke about eating penguin pie?

With a penguin in it? asks Terence.

A cooked one, says Camus. But it was only a joke. He didn't really eat one.

So you admit it, says Victor. You lied when you claimed that he did it.

If I did, says Camus, it would be an example of his words being taken against him.

And yours, says Victor.

One more crime for the list.

Or a penguin, says Terence. Not a real one, a Daddy Bin one.

What this? asks Camus.

A ladder, says Terence. Daddy Bin Penguins are tall.

At least Terence's words can't be used against him, says Victor. They are incomprehensible.

That means I can talk, says Terence. Are we there yet?

Not yet, says Victor. You need a quiet activity. Why don't you draw all the birds you've seen on your travels? Here's a pencil.

He takes his police pencil out of his pocket, and hands it to Terence.

There's no paper, says Terence.

Take a sheet from my notepad, says Victor. Leave the top one.

He chucks the notepad into the back.

Camus catches it.

The top sheet contains a list of his alleged crimes.

1. Deliberately poisoning a peregrine falcon with chocolate

2. Escaping while in detention

3. Stealing a police car

4. Unauthorised use of a police water bottle and police gloves

5. 

6.

Five and six have not been filled in yet.

And may never be.

The Third Possibility

Camus hurries back to the road, followed by Terence.

Where's the police car? asks Terence.

That's what we need to find out, says Camus. If I left the brakes off, it may have rolled down the road and crashed into a tree. 

Let's go and find it! says Terence.

Or maybe, says Camus, I left the car keys in it, and a passerby drove it away.

That's stealing! says Terence.

But, says Camus, there is a third possibility.

Yes, there is! says Victor, wheeling a bicycle out from behind a nearby bush. Albert Camus, you are under arrest for unlawful possession and use of a police vehicle.

Am I ? asks Terence.

No, just him, says Victor.

We were on our way back, says Camus. 

You weren't, says Victor. The police car was pointing in a northerly direction. That's evidence of your intention.

Terence thought he saw Roo-kai, says Camus.

Roo-kai is already at Saint Kilda, says Victor.

Yay! says Terence. Can we go now?

Yes, says Victor. The question is how?

Where's the police car? asks Camus.

Down the road. It rolled into a tree, says Victor. Lucky I spotted it. Now we're going to inspect the damage.

They walk down the road to the tree the police car rolled into.

Ouch! says Camus. 

Where are your shoes? asks Victor.

In the police car, says Camus. And I suppose I should admit that this is a police water bottle.

Sensible of you to have brought it, says Victor. I could do with a drink. I cycled all the way from Saint Kilda on Gaius's bicycle.

Camus hands him the police water bottle.

Ha ha! We all know what's going to happen.

Victor flips the top off. And sniffs.

Aw. Typical policeman. 

This smells like sea water, says Victor.

Oh yes, says Camus. It was to wash our feet so we didn't dirty the police car.

With mud, says Terence. And I had to wear blue rubber police gloves on my feet, and guess what happened ?

Victor sighs, foreseeing a mountain of paperwork.

I'm Not Fishing

Camus follows Terence's glove sock footprints until....

He stops near a bitterbush.

He's seen two blue holes in the sand.

He looks into them.

Terence must have stopped here, sunk into the mud to the tops of his glove socks, and somehow got out again.

Yes, there are his footprints, heading for the sea.

Camus tugs at the tops of the glove socks.

The bitterbush blue butterfly watches from a bitterbush branch.

Should it say something? Such as "Hands off my glove socks!"?

However, Camus has thought twice. So what if the glove socks are police property?

He laughs to himself. A good question.

He leaves the glove socks in situ, and continues in Terence's footsteps.

The bitterbush blue butterfly leaves its branch and flutters over the glove socks.

How to extract them? That's the problem.

Terence has reached the shore birds. Two black-winged stilts.

Go away, say the two black-winged stilts. 

I am, says Terence. 

Well, we're waiting, says the two black-winged stilts.

What for? asks Terence.

You to go away, say the two black-winged stilts.

First, says Terence, have you seen Roo-kai, my parrot? 

No, no parrots, say the two black-winged stilts.

He doesn't look like a normal parrot, says Terence. 

We still haven't, say the two black-winged stilts. Now get off our sand. 

Camus rushes up with the empty police water bottle.

The black-winged stilts fly off to a less busy spot, and resume poking for miniscule crustaceans.

Any luck? asks Camus. Have they seen him?

No, says Terence. It's hopeless.

I'll just fill this bottle with sea water, says Camus. And then we'll go back.

He steps into the sea.

Further out, a lesser crested tern swoops down into the water.

And comes up with nothing.

Camus stands up. The water bottle is full.

The lesser crested tern paddles over.

This is your fault, says the lesser crested tern.

My fault? says Camus.

Your collective fault, says the tern. For over-fishing.

I'm not fishing, says Camus. I'm collecting sea water, to wash our feet when we return to the car.

That police car? asks the tern.

Yes, says Camus.

You'll be lucky, says the lesser crested tern. It's gone off without you.

Camus turns. The police car is moving!

Merde! Did he not put the brake on? 

Blue Power

Terence stops running.

Where is the parrot he saw from the police car?

There are one or two birds in the distance, poking in the wet sand. 

He is about to start running again, but something is wrong.

His feet have disappeared into the mud.

Wah! cries Terence.

He grabs onto a bitterbush.

Poor little you, says a voice like the voice of a butterfly.

It IS the voice of a butterfly.

Save me! cries Terence.

How can I? asks the butterfly.

Do you know where a tap is? asks Terence.

There isn't one, says the butterfly. Why?

My glove socks are sucking me down, says Terence.

Don't panic, says the butterfly. They haven't succeeded. I can see the blue tops.

Okay, says Terence. Now what?

They are pretty  says the butterfly.

Uh? says Terence.

Blue, says the butterfly. I like blue.

Terence looks at the butterfly properly.

Its wings are brown near the outer edges and blue closer in to its body.

Woop, says Terence. Help me get unstuck and you can have them.

What would I do with them? asks the butterfly.

Keep them, says Terence. But they might need a wash.

The butterfly, a bitterbush blue butterfly, imagines two blue glove socks fluttering from its two favourite bushes.

The glory!

Let me just eat a few leaves of bitterbush, says the butterfly. Get my strength up.

It eats a few bitter leaves. Nibble nibble.

Hurry up, says Terence. I need to catch up with a parrot.

First things first, says the butterfly.

Second, says Terence. First was eating.

Okay, ready, says the bitterbush blue butterfly, giving Terence a shove from behind.. 

It is remarkably strong for a butterfly.

Or maybe Terence is trying a bit harder.

Squeeeerch! Out comes one foot. Swueeooush! out come the other.

Yay! Thanks blue butterfly! 

Terence runs off.

The bitterbush blue butterfly is left looking at two empty blue holes in the mud.

Which belong to it now, theoretically.

Know Where The Taps Are

What now? asks Terence.

Camus looks up at the sky. 

Can you see Roo-kai? asks Terence.

Of course not, says Camus. He'll be back at Saint Kilda.

Unless he stopped to eat molluscs, says Terence.

I'd like to continue to the northern end of the bird sanctuary, says Camus. Are you with me?

Dumb question.

Yes, says Terence.

Right, says Camus. Get in.

Terence climbs into the police car.

Do I have to keep wearing these glove socks? asks Terence..

Yes, says Camus. The mud won't dry inside them.

Does that mean I have to wear them for ever? asks Terence.

What did I say earlier? asks Camus. 

Look for a tap, says Terence.

Camus drives fast. 

Slow down, says Terence. I won't see the taps.

There probably aren't any, says Camus.

So why am I looking? asks Terence.

Look for something else if you like, says Camus. You could look for more parrots.

Yes, says Terence. They'd know where the taps are.

What makes you think that? asks Camus. 

Knowing, says Terence. Hey! there's one!

Camus slows down. He can't see a parrot.

Stop! cries Terence.

Camus stops the police car. Terence opens the passenger door and jumps out.

He runs through the low vegetation.

Camus watches. He can only see Terence's head.

The head grows smaller, and disappears altogether.

Camus supposes that he will have to get out of the police car and look for Terence. 

Should he first take his shoes off?

There is no more police water in the police car.

But then, assuming he finds Terence, and that Terence has found a parrot and the parrot knows where a tap is ( so many assumptions! ), there is no guarantee that the tap will be anywhere nearby.

You fool Camus! thinks Camus to himself. The solution is simple! Take the empty regulation police water bottle with you, and fill it with sea water, once you have located Terence.

He grabs the empty bottle, takes off his shoes and proceeds though the low vegetation.

It's good to have a well-thought out plan.

Dangerously Close To One Another

Yes, perfect balance, says the slender-billed thornbill. I'll wish for that.

Keep still, says Terence.

He makes magic passes, with his hands.

Can I move yet? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

Not yet, says Terence. I haven't done the buzzing.

Hurry up, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Buzz, buzz, says Terence.

What's that for? asks Camus.

That's what the saints did when I got perfect balance, says Terence.

So you've got it, says the slender-billed thornbill. What's it like?

You won't fall off a pony, says Terence.

The slender-billed thornbill is disappointed.

It's never sat on a pony.

You've probably never sat on a pony, says Camus.

No I haven't, says the slender-billed thornbill. What else is it like?

Watch this! says Terence. 

He stands on one leg, and doesn't wobble.

Do that dance you did before, says Camus. 

Terence does his empty toe dance.

The fingers of the blue rubber police gloves on his feet are dangerously close to one another.

But Terence doesn't stumble.

That's impressive, says the slender-billed thornbill. But I can't see myself in that situation.

What about ....(Terence tries to think of a bird situation)....what about when you land on a branch and it breaks?

Never happens, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Or it turns into a snake, says Terence,

Actually, can I change my wish? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

Too late! says Terence. You've got perfect balance.

You probably had it already, says Camus. 

I wonder if perfect balance can have another meaning, says the slender-billed thornbill.

No it can't, says Terence. Otherwise I'd have it.

Yes it can, says Camus. It could for example mean the gift of balanced judgement. Perhaps you've got that.

How will I know? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

You'll know, says Camus. 

The slender-billed thornbill decides that, on balance, he should be happy with that.

He flies off to another location.

That went well, says Terence.

I didn't know you could grant wishes, says Camus. 

Me either, says Terence.

When Always Means When

There's a reward, says Terence.

What's the reward? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

You get a wish, says Terence. 

Maybe I did see Roo-kai, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Ask it when, says Camus.

When? asks Terence.

Ask it now, says Camus.

I think he meant ask ME when, says the slender-billed thornbill.

When? asks Terence.

A few gulls ago, says the slender-billed thornbill.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

Six gulls flew by after him, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Terence is alarmed.

Why were they after him? asks Terence.

I don't think they were after him, says the slender-billed thornbill.

But you said, says Terence.

After has more than one meaning, says Camus.

So does when, says the slender-billed thornbill.

I don't think so, says Camus. When always means when.

Do I get my reward now? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

No, says Terence. You haven't proved anything. What did he look like?

For example, what colour were his legs? asks Camus.

They were kind of tucked in, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Feathers? asks Camus.

Yes, he had feathers, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Was he black and white with an orange beak? asks Terence.

Bingo! says the slender-billed thornbill.

That sounds like him, says Camus. Which way was he going?

We already know that, says Terence. Back to us.

Then he's missed you, says the slender-billed thornbill. Did he know you were driving around in a police car?

Noo! wails Terence. We have to go back to where Roo-kai is going.

Not immediately, says Camus. Gaius and Victor are there. Roo-kai will find them.

That's that then, says the slender-billed thornbill. Hope I was helpful. Do I get my reward now?

Okay. What is your wish? asks Terence.

Never to be hungry again, says the slender-billed thornbill. 

That could go wrong, says Terence.

Yes, says Camus. Think. You could die on the spot.

How about perfect balance? suggests Terence. 

The slender-billed thornbill is tempted. 

Perfect balance. 

Nothing could go wrong with that.

Empty Blue Toes Dance

Now what? asks Terence.

There's no more water, says Camus. And your feet are still muddy. We'll have to wait till they dry.

Into mud socks, says Terence. 

Yes, says Camus. But really, we need to get moving.

Put me in something, says Terence.

Good idea, says Camus.  

He looks on the back seat of the police car, for something to put Terence in, like a police sack.

But there is nothing.

He opens the front glove box. Aha!

Blue rubber police gloves, in a sealed packet.

He opens the packet.

Here, put these on.

Terence starts putting the gloves on.

On your feet! says Camus. Like glove socks.

Terence isn't sure he wants to wear blue police glove socks.

The fingers will be floppy.

It's only till we find a tap, says Camus.

Terence puts the police glove socks on.

How do I look? asks Terence.

Like a strange bird, says Camus. A strange bird with empty blue toes.

Terence dances an empty-blue-toes dance.

Stop that, says Camus. Get into the car and we'll continue.

Okay, says Terence. How far to the tap?

There should be one at the next carpark, says Camus. Keep an eye out.

Now Terence has two jobs. To look for a tap and Roo-kai.

The sea is morning green, beyond the mud flats.

The sky is not yet bright blue. 

A bird flies over.

Stop! cries Terence. That might be Roo-kai.

Camus stops the police car.

The slender-billed bird lands on a clump of button grass, nearby.

Don't get out! says Camus.

He imagines Terence getting mud on the police gloves. Another hold-up.

Is it him or not? asks Camus.

Terence pokes his head out of the window.

Not him, says Terence. 

Not who? says the bird, a slender-billed thornbill.

Roo-kai, says Terence.

Are you looking for Roo-kai? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

Yes, says Terence. 

Did you think I was him and then realised I wasn't? asks the slender-billed thornbill.

Yes, says Terence. Why do you care?

I don't, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Well anyway, have you seen him? asks Terence.

No, says the slender-billed thornbill.

Which is not strictly true, because he has.

Police Water

Camus enjoys driving the police car at night.

Where are we going? asks Terence.

To the end, says Camus. 

End of what? asks Terence.

The International Bird Sanctuary, says Camus. 

Winit-yinit, says Terence.

Something like that, says Camus. But not that. It was longer, ending in iyti.

Are we there yet? asks Terence.

Not yet, says Camus. It covers sixty kilometres of coastline.

We might see Roo-kai! says Terence.

Through the roof of the police car? says Camus.

Outside, says Terence. In the sky, flying above us.

I doubt it, says Camus, but keep your eyes open. If you see him, I'll turn on the siren.

Yay! The siren!

Terence opens the window and scans the dawn sky.

He spots a silver gull, flying low.

Hey! calls Terence.

Fark! squawks the silver gull. 

I see him! cries Terence.

Camus turns on the siren. Weee-ooo!

The silver gull changes direction.

Too bad, says Terence. It wasn't him. 

Camus turns off the siren.

Terence keeps looking.

If he's not in the sky he might be on the mudflats.

Stop, says Terence. I've got a feeling.

Camus stops the police car. Why not? A dawn sky is worth watching. 

They get out of the car, and gaze across the mudflats.

No Roo-kai.

But then:

Terence spots an elegant parrot, in the saltbush, pecking at seeds.

He squelches towards it.

Squelch squelch!

Ha ha! laughs the elegant parrot. You're sinking!

No, I'm not! says Terence. 

What is it? asks Camus, squelching closer.

The elegant parrot is alarmed by the police hat Camus is wearing.

Tinkle! tinkles the elegant parrot.

It flies off.

Was that an orange-bellied parrot? asks Camus. It looked like one.

They don't tinkle, says Terence. Let's keep going

They squelch back to the police car.

At this point Camus realises that they should clean their feet before getting back into the police car.

He reaches into the car for the bottle of regulation police water wedged between the front seats.

It will do nicely.

Camus sprinkles his shoes, and wipes them down with a handful of roadside vegetation.

Then he hands the bottle to Terence.

Terence pours the rest of the water onto the road, hoping to make a puddle.

But he's not quick enough. 

The water drains away.

A Step Too Far

Terence tiptoes up to the car park.

He looks back.

No one has woken.

He approaches the police car to check on the prisoner.

The police car is silent. Or is it?

Creak...creak.

Everything all right in there? asks Terence, in what he hopes is the right sort of voice.

A face appears at the window of the police car.

Need a wee? asks Terence.

He holds up Victor's keys.

Camus nods. Yes, he does need a wee, please. 

Okay, says Terence. I'll open up, but you can't run away.

Camus nods again. As if he would do that!

Terence inserts Victor's car key.

Click. Camus bursts out into the night.

And disappears into the bushes.

Psssssssssssssssssssss. 

Camus re-emerges.

Too much Passiona, says Camus.

Now get back in, says Terence.

Where's Victor? asks Camus.

See this hat? says Terence. He said I could wear it.

And gave you his car keys, says Camus. Did he not think I might drive away in his police car.

Yippee! says Terence. Why don't you? 

It's a serious crime, says Camus.

Not if I come with you, says Terence.

It would serve Victor right, says Camus.

You could wear Victor's hat while you're driving, says Terence.

I could, says Camus. 

You could turn on the siren, says Terence.

A step too far, says Victor. But get in, let's do it.

Terence gets into the police car and hands Victor's hat and car keys to Camus.

Yay! This will be awesome!

Brmmm! They drive away into the night.

On the beach, Victor's head feels cold.

Uh-uh-ach-ooh! He wakes up.

Where's his police hat? Where is Terence?

Shit-a-brick! Where are his car keys!

He stands, brushes the sand from his trousers and runs to the carpark.

His worst fears are confirmed.

The police car is missing, and so is his prisoner! 

Camus's electric vehicle is nearby.

He tries the door handles. Locked.

Why didn't he confiscate Camus's keys?

He plods back to the beach where Gaius is sleeping.

Wake up, Gaius!

What is it? mutters Gaius. 

Victor tells Gaius the story.

That is unfortunate, says Gaius. But it seems there's not much you can do.

Thanks, says Victor. I know that.

Let us assume they'll come back soon, says Gaius.  After all Camus is no fool. He hired that electric vehicle and will need to return it at some point. And he will soon tire of Terence.

That's a comfort, says Victor. 

Indeed, says Gaius. Look at the sky. Pink streaks. Dawn is approaching. Let us keep a vigil.

Victor like this idea. He wonders if Gaius has anything they might eat, on this vigil.

Gaius is scrabbling about in his back pack.

He brings out two limp carrots, and a block of hard cheese, with visible teeth marks.

Try the other end, says Gaius.

Policeman In Parrot Shorts

Need a wee first? asks Victor.

That won't be necessary, says Camus.

Victor locks Camus in the police car.

Then returns to the beach, where Gaius is settling into his sand bed, and Waca is dozing.

Waca went to sleep, says Terence.

You should do the same, says Victor.

I don't normally sleep, says Terence. 

I see, says Victor. Well, Gaius is preparing to sleep, so I'll turn in too.

Go ahead, says Terence.

He sits down, and waits to see what Victor is going to turn into.

Victor gets down on all fours and smooths out the sand with his hand.

Then he lies down on his back.

Going to sleep are you, Victor? asks Gaius.

Trying to, says Victor. 

Worried about Camus? asks Gaius.

Should I be? asks Victor.

Locked in the police car, says Gaius. I suppose there's not much he can do.

I asked him if he needed a wee, says Victor. But he didn't.

Hum, says Gaius. He may think that now, but what about later?

Mm, says Victor. 

And what about the police radio, or whatever you use these days, says Gaius. 

Now Victor is worried. What if a call comes through?

And Camus answers. 

But no. He's off duty. That won't happen.

All is quiet, except for the swoosh of waves on the pebbles.

Victor gazes up at the stars.

Why are there only two of them?

Because they are not stars. They're the wide eyes of Terence, staring down.

What? asks Victor.

You didn't turn into anything, says Terence.

I'm off duty, says Victor. 

But you said, says Terence.

I don't think so, says Victor. Now, why do I feel so uncomfortable?

You're still wearing your hat, says Terence. Can I wear it?

I suppose so, says Victor, taking off his police hat and immediately feeling more comfortable.

Now Terence is wearing the hat.

He looks like a small policeman (in parrot shorts).

Gaius is asleep. So is Waca. And so is Victor.

What to do?

Why not go up to the car park and check on the prisoner?

Where are Victor's car keys? There, in his jacket. 

Yes, that's a good plan.

Bare Bum Version

Does this mean I have to sleep on the beach? asks Camus.

Either that or in the police car, says Victor.

With you? asks Camus.

No, says Victor. Locked in, on your own. Would that bother you?

I suppose not, says Camus. I've had worse.

Your choice, says Victor.

Camus considers the sleep-on-the-beach option.

On the plus side, it's quite a warm night, the sand is soft and the sound of the ocean is soothing.

On the other hand, he would be sleeping near Terence and his traumatised duck.

Terence is still singing: Roo-kai is coming, Roo-kai is coming.

Waca seems to be nodding off to sleep.

But then:

Warrk! squawks Waca.

What is it? asks Terence.

I'm in an aeroplane! cries Waca. I'm losing my wheels. And my brother!

That's already happened, says Terence. And you don't even mind.

Oh, says Waca. 

Terence sings again: Roo-kai is coming.

I don't need this, I choose the police car, says Camus. 

Very well, says Victor. Come with me. 

I assume you're  trusting me not to abscond, says Gaius.

I am, says Victor. I know you have principles.

I have principles, says Camus. 

Me too, says Terence.

You are too young to have principles, says Camus. 

A young person can have priciples, says Victor. Terence is demonstrating that now, by his singing.

Yes, says Terence, singing even louder: Roo-kai is coming. A bare witness! Soon he will come! And then we will we see his bare bum!

Terence, says Gaius, I believe you have misunderstood the term 'to bear witness'.

Shall we go now? says Camus.

Yes, says Victor. 

They go off to the police car, leaving Gaius explaining 'bear witness' to Terence.

It is a long explanation.

Waca is listening too. 

He prefers the bare bum version. 

It's funny.

The Comfort Of Curls

Waca's thoughts become fuzzy.

Where was he? Oh yes, he was thinking of Belle.

She was a kind person. If only she had wanted two wooden ducks on a wheeled platform for herself.

But she hadn't.

He tries to remember her face. 

And her hair. Was it curly?

The sand under which he is buried starts moving. 

He hears something.

Woo hoo!

It's Terence.

Ouch! He is grasped by a small cement hand with a claw.

Terence is brushing the sand off, and poking his wheel holes.

Gaius did it! says Terence.

Did what? mumbles Waca.

Buried you, says Terence. He didn't mean to.

C-huh! coughs Waca. Where's Belle?

Dear me, he's rambling, says Gaius. Waca, do you know what day it is?

Don't confuse him, says Camus. 

His confusion is what I'm trying to establish, says Gaius.

Ask him if he knows where he is, says Victor.

Do you know where you are? asks Gaius.

Where I was, says Waca. I had a brother, and a kind owner. She had curly hair.

That was me, says Terence. Your kind owner.

Then why did he call you a she? asks Victor.

Yes, why did you? asks Terence. I'm not one.

Waca looks at Terence. Why is he saying he's not one? 

He'll be fine in the morning, says Gaius. He's just had a shock. 

We'll see about that, says Victor. 

Does this mean you're staying? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Victor. For one thing, I haven't closed the case of the poisoned chocolate.

Roo-kai should be back in the morning, says Gaius. He will bear witness.

Yes! says Terence. Roo-kai's been to Geelong.

Has he now? says Victor.

Things are looking up on the crime front.

Roo-kai is coming! sings Terence, rocking Waca.

Waca is comforted. He gazes fondly at Terence's curls.

Sand In My Wheel Holes

Waca is not far away, buried in sand.

Head included.

He can't hear anything.

Nor does he know he is being searched for.

If discovery is imminent, it's not what he's expecting.

His thoughts are more elegaic.

Here I lie, deep in sand, sand in my beak, sand in my wheel holes, not going anywhere, ending my life in Saint Kilda, when all I wanted was to keep warm......

Gaius and Camus have spread out looking for Waca's head, but it's dark.

Only Victor has a torch.

I think there's a torch in my vehicle, says Camus. I'll get it.

Not so fast, says Victor. I must insist you stay here.

Then I'll go, says Gaius.

You can't go either, says Victor.

I'll go, says Terence.

No, you won't, says Gaius. You wouldn't be able to open the vehicle.

It's quite easy, says Camus. You just press this button.

That unlocks it, says Gaius. But it doesn't open the door.

True, says Camus. What if Victor goes with him?

A cunning ruse, says Victor. But I'm onto it. We'll make do with my torch.

He sweeps its beam across the sand in a wide circle.

Waca, under the sand, does not see the light passing above his position.

He is far back in time. He is in a French workshop, being fashioned by an artisan toy duck maker, who has already made his duck brother. They share a wooden platform, and four wheels. Later they sit on a shelf in a toyshop, hoping to be chosen......those were good times!

Think, says Victor. What were you doing before I arrived?

I was burying Waca, says Terence.

Why? asks Victor.

He wanted me to, says Terence.

But why? pursues Victor.

He wanted to be comfy, says Terence. So I made a hole and put him in it. 

Hard or soft sand? asks Victor.

Soft, says Terence. 

And his head was showing? asks Victor. 

I already told you, says Terence. 

Perhaps it was quicksand, says Camus.

Ever helpful, says Victor. And what were you doing?

You saw me, says Camus. I was in the carpark, about to go to sleep in my car.

That leaves you, Gaius, says Victor,

Indeed, says Gaius. I must commend you on your methodical procedure.

Normal police procedure, says Victor. But thanks. So, what were you doing?

Let me think, says Gaius. Hmm, yes, I was making a shallow dip in the soft sand to sleep in.

Aha! says Victor. You were throwing up sand?

As we can see, Victor is about to crack it, having followed his methodical procedure.

Waca, under the sand, is remembering how he and his brother were chosen for Terence by Belle, who had come to the toyshop to look for a parrot.

And not found one. 

Such are the workings of fate.

Missing Head Mystery

 It is dark on the beach.

Victor and Camus drink Passiona.

Gaius takes a sip of spring water.

Terence has long since finished his Ribena.

He pops two more tomatoes, the only two left in the punnet.

Careful, says Gaius. Remember what happened last time.

What happened last time? asks Victor.

You should take notes, says Camus.

I'm not on duty, says Victor. And I'll decide when to take notes.

Just a suggestion, says Camus.

Last time, says Gaius, I ended up with a stain on my shorts.

I can't see it, says Victor.

Surely you have a torch, says Camus.

Victor takes a medium-sized police torch from his pocket, and shines it on Gaius's shorts.

A red stain. Now that looks suspicious!

The detritus washed off in the sea, says Gaius, but the stain has remained.

And it was all over Waca, says Terence. 

So it was, says Gaius.

This reminds Victor that, earlier, Terence had mentioned burying Waca.

And where is Waca now? asks Victor.

There, says Terence, No wait, I think it was there. Or a bit closer. 

You should have left a marker, says Camus.

I did, says Terence. His head was the marker.

There you are then, says Gaius. We'll soon find Waca.

Or his head, says Victor, taking out his notebook.

Waca - Missing head.

He adds (seeing his notebook is out now): Gaius- shorts stained - red. 

Stop writing, Victor, says Gaius. Help us find Waca's head.

What does it look like? asks Victor.

Somewhat shiny, being lacquered, says Gaius.  

Laquered! exclaims Victor. 

Glossy, says Gaius. 

You've neglected to say it's a duck, says Camus.

A duck. Laquered. A toy duck. A red herring.

Victor puts his notebook away.

Waca is in fact close by.

He has not revealed his whereabouts for this simple reason.

He is totally buried. 

And Gaius is responsible. 

A Deeper Plot

Not so fast! says Victor the policeman.

I wasn't leaving, says Camus. I was intending to sleep in my car.

Good, says Victor. And where is Gaius? 

On the beach with Terence, says Camus.

Alive I presume? says Victor.

What are you implying? asks Camus.

Nothing, says Victor. I was reminded of your famous novel, and the knife murder. 

Gaius ate noodles for dinner, says Camus. For noodles you don't need a knife.

Of course, says Victor. Did he use chopsticks?

No, a wooden fork, says Camus. I used one myself.

Case closed, says Victor. But I'm here to open another one.

Not the penguin pie? asks Camus. 

Not that, says Victor. The chocolate poisoning.

I admit I gave the peregrine falcon a chocolate, says Camus. But its death is mere hearsay

I'm led to believe there are witnesses, says Victor.

Then produce one, says Camus. Now, about that penguin pie...

I know all about your hidden agenda, says Victor.

Are you on duty? asks Camus.

Not at present, says Victor.

Then come down to the beach and join us for Passiona and Cheezels, says Camus. And there may be a few tomatoes remaining, if Terence hasn't popped them.

All right, says Victor. That would be nice.

They head down to the sand.

Gaius is fashioning a comfortable sleeping spot in the soft sand. 

Terence is burying Waca.

Hello! says Victor. You probably weren't expecting me to turn up so promptly.

I wasn't expecting you at all, says Gaius. I did say it was unnecessary.

But it's all for the best, says Camus. Victor will discover there are no witnesses to the death of the falcon.

Me! says Terence.

You were not a witness, says Gaius. 

What's a witness? asks Terence.

Someone who saw something happen, says Gaius.

I saw something happen, says Terence. 

What was it? asks Victor.

The falcon attacked Waca, says Terence.

Who is Waca? asks Victor.

My parrot, while Roo-kai isn't here, says Terence.

Where is this Waca? asks Victor. 

I buried him, says Terence. 

Oi-oi! says Victor, sensing a deeper plot than he originally expected.

Have a Passiona, says Camus. opening one for himself and offering one to Victor.

Thanks, says Victor, accepting.

And help yourself to a Favourite, says Camus. They're going begging.

Victor takes two.

Not because he is greedy. 

He eats one (a Picnic) and slips the second one (a Bounty) into the evidence bag that he keeps in his pocket.

For when a dead body turns up.

Happy Fasting

The movie is over. The credits have rolled.

The audience has left to go back to their luxury recliners.

The Tzeets smell dropped popcorn.

Dropped popcorn is tempting, but no.....

Meanwhile Rookai, flying through the night, returning to Saint Kilda, has arrived at Horsham.

Somewhat less than half way.

I am weary, thinks Roo-kai. I shall stop here, and rest.

He lands on the bank of the Wimmera River, beside a yellow gum blossom.

Several whitebrowed woodswallows are perched on the branches.

Get away, carrot beak! says a whitebrowed woodswallow. This is our yellow gum blossom.

Fear not, says Roo-kai. I do not eat yellow gum blossom. Only molluscs.

No molluscs here, laugh the whitebrowed woodswallows. This is Horsham.

I just need a rest, says Roo-kai. I'm happy fasting.

A yellow gum blossom falls on his head.

Followed by another one.

He becomes drowsy in this pleasant scenario.

There's a fish and chip shop in the main street, he hears a woodswallow saying.

They might have oysters.....

Roo-kai dozes off, but not before thinking, that seems unlikely........

Back at Saint Kilda, Gaius has finished his noodles, and enjoyed them.

Are we planning to we stay here all night ? asks Camus.

We are, says Gaius. It will be easier for Roo-kai to find us.

I'll sleep in my car, says Camus. You and Terence are welcome to join me.

Can I sleep on the beach? asks Terence.

We'll both sleep on the beach, says Gaius. 

Suit yourselves, says Camus.

He heads up to the car park.

Flash! Ahh! he is temporarily blinded by the headlights of a police car.

This will be Victor the policeman who had said he was coming.

Which had slipped Camus's mind until now.

I See You Have Special Powers

The wind howls. Its force becomes stronger.

Our end is near! cry the Tzeets.

Their cries disappear in the black swirling atmosphere.

At last, one Tzeet remembers the advice of Roo-kai:

Don't go up top, it's too windy. Stay inside.

But how to get inside the ferry, from up top? 

Maybe one of the sticking-up parts is a funnel?

He looks around. The wind stings his eyes.

The other Tzeet vanishes suddenly.

Alas! Is he lost, my Tzeet brother?

The wind drops for a second, as wind does.

Tzeet! he hears faintly.

It's coming from a hole at the top of the sticking-up part.

He approaches.

Sucked in!

Brother! cries the other Tzeet who is already in there.

There is not much to hold on to.

They let themselves fall.

Woosh. Plop.

They are in a dark room. Music is playing. And there is a colourful moving picture at one end.

What good luck!

The hole has led them to the movie theatre.

What's on?

Who cares?

They have found a safe harbour.

They huddle together, in a comfortable seat at the back.

The movie is about a team of puppies who come to the rescue of humans, using various vehicles.

A meteor is approaching the city.

It lands, boom! making a large hole in the road. But no one is hurt.

The puppies take the meteor to their headquarters, where it gives them special powers.....

At this point the Tzeets fall asleep.

They both dream the same dream.

Two Tzeets find a meteor, which gives them special powers.

Through wind and rain, the Tzeets boldly fly to Tasmania, arriving unscathed.

A stern Albatross welcomes them to Tasmania.

I see you have special powers, says the Albatross. Well done, Tzeets. 

Which way to Melaleuca? ask the Tzeets.

That way, says the Albatross, pointing south west. Shall I come with you?

We'll go it alone, say the Tzeets

At this point the Tzeets wake up, craving snacks.

Levels Of Luck

Camus returns with a bag full of takeaway.

That smells good, says Gaius. What did you get?

Black bean noodles, says Camus. 

He hands Gaius a noodle box, filled with hot noodles.

Eat up, says Camus. I've already had mine.

Gaius eats his noodles, while Terence tells Camus about the stick and the poem.

Where is it? asks Camus.

Over there, in the hard sand, says Gaius. 

Isn't the tide coming in? asks Camus.

Yes, says Gaius.

Wah! cries Terence. My poem will be ruined.

You should have taken a photo, says Camus. 

It may not be too late, says Gaius. Go and take one.

Come with me, Terence, says Camus. 

Camus and Terence walk down the beach to the hard sand where the poem was written.

What a piece of luck, says Camus, taking his phone out.

No, it's too late! says Terence.

A wave has washed in.

That's what I meant, says Camus. My name is obliterated.

Write it again, says Terence.

No time, says Camus.

Click.

What does it say now? asks Terence.

"a peregrine falcon has died/ someone gave it the chocolate of death/ who?/ a man" reads Camus.

A man called nothing? says Terence. 

If you like, says Camus. An everyman. 

It was YOU, says Terence.

Come, says Camus. I bought you a red drink from the noodle bar where I bought the noodles.

Yay! says Terence, forgetting about the ruination.

He returns to sit beside Gaius, and drink his Ribena.

He thinks about the Tzeets, on a ferry, watching a movie.

Lucky them.

......

Meanwhile the Spirit of Tasmania has chugged out of Geelong.

It is churning its way across Bass Strait, at this moment.

The Tzeets are on top, near the sticking-up parts.

Yikes! It's so windy!

They cling to the sticking-up parts, for dear life.

Your Chance To Be Famous

Gaius draws nearer.

What if it isn't a stick?

What if Terence has met an eastern brown snake and annoyed it?

He approaches with caution.

Go on, says Terence. 

No, says the stick. 

This is your CHANCE! says Terence.

For what? asks the stick. 

To be famous, says Terence. 

How? asks the stick.

By writing a poem, says Terence. 

I don't write poems, says the stick

Are you a stick or not? asks Terence.

I am a stick, says the stick.

Gaius breathes a sigh of relief.

It's a stick. 

He comes closer.

And a stick's like a pencil, says Terence.

Yes! says Waca. Like a pencil.

See! says Terence. Waca agrees. And Waca is wooden.

Why don't you let Waca write your dumb poem? asks the stick.

He's not pointed, says Terence.

Allow me to intervene, says Gaius.

Who is thissss? asks the stick.

I am Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Gaius. A natural historian. Initially I suspected you were an eastern brown snake, but my fears were allayed by your statement. Sticks do not normally pronouce thisss in that manner, however.

If it's a snake, says Terence, it's a stiff one.

I AM a stick, says the stick. 

Terence would appreciate having his words recorded in the sand, says Gaius.

You don't know much about sand, says the stick.

On the contrary, says Gaius. I know a great deal about sand.

The stick seems to understand this.

Okay, says the stick. Do it quickly.

Can you do it? asks Terence.

Certainly, says Gaius. Let us find harder sand.

They leave the sandhills, for harder sand, nearer the sea..

Gaius writes the poem to the peregrine falcon in the sand, with the stick.

That was quite moving, says the stick, when Gaius has finished. I'd like to meet this Camoo.

You cannot. He's away buying dinner, says Gaius.

I'll be off then, says the stick.

Gaius puts the stick down. 

It slithers away.

The Chocolate Of Death

Next verse, says Terence:

A peregrine falcon has died/ someone gave him the chocolate of death/ who ?/ a man called Camoo.

That is rather dark, says Gaius. But the chocolate of death is a wonderful image.

Could you leave my name out of it? asks Camus.

No, says Terence. Because it WAS you.

You make it sound deliberate, says Camus. 

Never mind, says Gaius. The poem has gone with the wind, so to speak.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

It is not written down, says Gaius. Only we heard it.

Boo! says Terence. I'm going to write it.

If you had learned to write, says Gaius, that would have been an option.

In the sand, says Terence. With a stick. And pictures.

You do that, says Gaius. 

Terence goes to look for a stick. 

Take me! calls Waca.

Okay, says Terence. I'm looking for a stick to write my poem in the sand with.

I'll help you, says Waca.

They head for the sand hills.

It's getting dark, says Camus. What about dinner?

We can't leave, says Gaius. Roo-kai will be on his way back.

We could leave him a message, says Camus.

No, you go, says Gaius. Bring me something. Nothing with tomato.

Very well, says Camus, heading to the car park, where he left his electric vehicle.

Gaius wonders where Terence has got to.

He follows Terence's footprints to the sand hills.

Ah! There he is, sitting down with a stick.

Probably puzzling out how to spell peregrine falcon when he only knows P  I and O 

Waca will be worse than useless, being a French toy.  

But, hmm, Terence seems to be talking to the stick.

And the stick is answering.

Screw you, it is saying. I was trying to sleep!

He Flew Superfast

Iris has emailed her report to Victor.

Victor has read it.

It seems satisfactory.

He forwards it to Gaius.

Then he remembers that Gaius doesn't always check his emails.

So he sends him a text.

Favour done. Check your emails

Ding! Gaius receives the text message. 

It's from Victor.

He opens the email. 

In it, Iris has reconstructed the conversation she heard in the queue.

Hum, says Gaius. Aha! Yes. 

What is it? asks Camus.

A large white bird with a stern aspect, says Gaius. What might it be?

A swan? suggests Camus.

Or an albatross, says Gaius.

For I have shot the albatross, says Camus. 

Why do you say that? asks Gaius. It was a peregrine falcon you poisoned.

I was quoting, says Camus. From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

I don't know it, says Gaius. 

Water water everyhere, and not a drop to drink, says Camus.

That rings a bell, says Gaius. 

Thy long grey beard and glittering eye, says Camus.

Have you finished? says Gaius. I have received confirmation from Victor that Roo-kai reached Geelong with the orange-bellied parrots.

Yay! says Terence.

And it would seem that he has asked an albatross to assist them, says Gaius.

Or a swan, says Camus. 

Most unlikely, says Gaius. But it would also seem that the orange-bellied parrots have boarded the ferry on their own, and foolishly chosen to perch in the uppermost regions.

They'll be tossed and buffeted up there, says Camus.

Indeed, says Gaius. Let us hope they realise, and go inside before the ferry starts moving.

Roo-kai would have told them, says Terence.

I'm sure he would, says Gaius.  But let's spare a thought for the peregrine falcon, who delivered the message with its last breath.

It was a hero, says Terence. 

In a sense, says Gaius. We have to remember its motive.

Chocolate, says Camus. An ignoble motive.

You gave it that motive, says Gaius. 

I feel sad for the peregrine falcon, says Terence. I'm going to make it a poem. 

He thinks for a few seconds.

 A peregrine falcon has died/ he was hero/ he flew superfast to deliver a message/ and he did it/ because he tried.

Very nice Terence, says Gaius. The peregrine falcon would have liked that.

You don't mention the chocolate, says Camus.

It's not finished, says Terence.

Call Iris Peek

Victor calls Iris Peek, in Geelong.

Iris, says Victor, can you do me a favour?

Sure Victor, says Iris. What is it?

This may sound a bit strange, says Victor.

Fill me in, says Iris.

Go to the Spirit of Tasmania quay, and look for an oystercatcher, says Victor. 

Shouldn't be too hard, says Iris. Any distinguishing features?

Not that I know of, says Victor. But it should be accompanied by two orange-bellied parrots.

Too easy, says Iris Peek. Do I apprehend them?

No, says Victor, just take a photo and send it to me. 

No worries, Victor, says Iris.

Iris is a capable officer. Victor relaxes. He has done what he can.

Iris heads down to the quay.

The Spirit of Tasmania departs in an hour, at 9.30 pm.

She reminds herself what an oystercatcher looks like.

Black and white feathers. Long thin red legs. Straight orange beak.

Probably no point looking into the vehicles.

Unless smuggling's involved.

But Victor said nothing about that.

She walks to the end of the quay, then walks back to the ticket office.

Of course birds don't need tickets. But may as well be thorough.

No. No birds in the queue.

But she overhears this:

So sweet, and they were shivering!

Poor little things. Then what happened?

A bigger bird with an orange beak came up to them.

Is that what they were scared of?

No! They looked relieved. It talked to them, but I couldn't hear what it was saying. Then the big one flew off.

So the poor little ones were left on their own again?

Yes, they looked even more scared than before.

Why didn't you do something?

I was about to, when the bigger bird came back with an even bigger bird.

Wow! What did it look like?

White feathers. A bit stern. It looked at the little birds and nodded. 

That's good. At least it nodded.

Exactly what I thought.

Then what? 

The big white one flew off and the orange-beaked one patted the little ones, and said some more stuff.

Then?

Flew away.

This whole thing doesn't sound like normal bird behaviour.

Mmm, but what do we know?

Yes, what? And where are the little birds now?

You won't believe this.

Try me.

They flew onto the ferry. Up top. But I bet they don't stay there long.

That's for sure! Hey, who'd be a bird?

Iris has heard enough. She has established the presence of the three birds in question, and the current whereabouts of two of them. 

She will not get a photo.

But Victor will receive a report.