Helpers Are Worse

He's just an infant, says Roo-kai.

The science guy? asks one of the skates.

He's not really a science guy, says Roo-kai. He's a helper.

Helpers are worse than science guys, says the second skate.

Not always, says the third.

He'd be really happy if you let him count you, says Roo-kai. 

But would it end there? asks the first one.

Probably not, says Roo-kai. 

At least you're honest, says the second skate.

I am, says Roo-kai. And he really does know the sock's owner.

What's the sock owner like? asks the first skate.

Practical, says Roo-kai. In fact he's already bought a new pair of socks from the local IGA.

A pair? says the second skate. And he only lost one?

How is that practical? asks the third skate.

You have to understand humans, says Roo-kai. They like to have spares.

Would he like the lost sock back? asks the first skate. We know where it is.

I'm sure he would, says Roo-kai.

Did you draw the arrow on the paper boat? asks the second skate.

No, says Roo-kai. Why do you ask?

We were heading out in the direction it pointed,  says the second skate.

Because it might be a message, says the third skate.

Can I give you some free advice? asks Roo-kai.

Okay, say the three baby skates together.

Don't trust arrows on floating objects, says Roo-kai. Let me tell you the sad tale of Saint Roley's brother.

What happened? ask the skates.

He floated away from the coast of Saint Malo on the last remaining side of a cardboard potato box, says Roo-kai. There was a THIS WAY UP finger printed on the cardboard, pointing towards the horizon. He trusted that finger, and was not seen again.

Was he a skate? asks the skates?

No, an oystercatcher, says Roo-kai.

That couldn't happen to us, says the first skate. 

I suppose not, says Roo-kai.