Transcendental Grass

Want me to come with you? asks Sweezus.

No, thank you, says Immanuel Kant. I'll go on my own. The reason being, I prefer to keep my mouth shut.

No worries, says Sweezus.

And breathe through my nose, adds Immanuel Kant.

Yeah, okay, says Sweezus.

For the simple reason I don't wish to catch cold, says Immanuel Kant.

It's thirty two degrees, says Sweezus. 

Yes it is rather warm, says Immanuel Kant. I shall walk in the direction of those linden trees.

I don't think they're linden trees, says Sweezus.  I reckon they're pines.

All the more reason to keep my mouth shut, says Kant. 

Yeah, pines make some people sneeze, says Sweezus. Okay I'll go and grab a coffee. Meet you back here in thirty minutes.

Excellent, says Kant, walking off.

He heads towards the pine trees that are not linden trees. 

One must not allow things like that to upset one.

Ah! Grass! Grass is the same everywhere. A transcendental concept.

He begins to feel better. 

He breathes in and out though his nose.

Sweezus heads for a coffee shop.

To get there he must pass the police station.

He passes it, without looking in.

Inside the police station, Gaius is explaining how Gloopy came to have died, and been stowed way in a pullalong, and on discovery, placed in a vinegar bottle...

Because he smelled, says Victor. Terence told me that.

So you have inteviewed Terence, says Gaius.

A mere friendly chat, says Victor. Go on.

So we arrived back in Adelaide with the skate in a bottle, says Gaius. I suppose I should have declared it, but we were needed as players.

Players? says Victor.

In Vello's Fringe show, says Gaius. AI Candide. It was during Scene Three that the accident happened.

Gloopy fell out of a tree and broke his bottle, says Terence.

After which Arthur was injured, says Gaius.

Oh yes, Arthur, says Victor. Would you like some paracetamol?

I might, says Arthur. 

I was thinking more along the lines of an amulet, says Gaius.

An amulet would be good, says Arthur. Would there be something in it?

Ideally some dust that a hawk has bathed in, says Gaius. Tied up in a linen bag, with red string. Failing that, the head of a viper.

Paracetamol it will have to be, then, says Victor.

He's not having that sort of nonsense.