Wheels Are Redundant

Lucius and Pontius turn and swim off.

We need to talk about tomorrow, says Lucius.

We do, says Pontius. First of all what time is early?

That's not the main thing, says Lucius.

I suppose not, says Pontius. What is?

We agreed to wash down the skateboard when we've finished, says Lucius.

O that, says Pontius. 

So how do we do it? asks Lucius.

How were THEY going to do it? asks Pontius.

A pertinent question, says Lucius.

We'll ask them, says Pontius. After all, we didn't agree to provide our own water.

You've set my mind at rest, says Lucius.

They are nearing the place where the baby skates are playing on the skateboard.

Stay back, says Lucius. Let us observe them.

Good idea Lucius, says Pontius. We don't want to look like complete amateurs tomorrow.

My thoughts exactly, says Lucius.

They drift down to the muddy bottom and gaze upwards.

Most of the baby skates have become experts on the skateboard.

They go one at a time.

Clasping  with one clasper. Doing ollies and nollies, flips, shoves, slides and grinds.

They'll  be developing bones next, says Pontius.

Doubtless, says Lucius. Then they will see the disadvantage.

Too late, says Pontius.

Perhaps not, says Lucius. They're returning the skateboard tomorrow,

These things have a away of perpetuating themselves, says Pontius.

I know what you mean, says Lucius. They will  probably try to replicate the skateboard.

Thankfully there's not much in the way of dragon-logs down here, says Pontius.

A mysid floats by.

Lucius snaps it. 

Or wheels, says Pontius.

Lucius would point out that the wheels are redundant, but his mouth's full of shrimp at the moment.