The Last Pipi

You took a long time to get here, says Terence.

Things to do, says Roo-kai.

Like what? asks Terence.

Checking out different places, says Roo-kai. 

The algal bloom? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Roo-kai. I've seen dozens of dead octopuses, dead cuttlefish, skates and leatherjackets and even a dead white shark that washed up at Henley.

Henley? says Sweezus. No way!

I thought you were going, says Gaius.

I am going, says Sweezus. I'll pick up Arthur and Kant, but before we come back here I'll stop for a toastie.

Bring me a toastie, says Gaius.

No worries, says Sweezus.

And buy yourself a jumper, says Gaius.

He never wears a jumper, says Terence.

He ought to, in this weather, says Gaius.

Sweezus heads off to the carpark

Who is Kant? asks Roo-kai.

A well-regarded philosopher, says Gaius. Sweezus is interviewing him for Velosophy.

I'm learning to be a philosopher, says Terence.

That's good news, says Roo-kai.

What can I know? asks Terence, in a deep voice.

Is that as far as you've got? asks Roo-kai.

No, says Terence. I'm up to trans-dental illusions.

Are they about teeth? asks Roo-kai.

Terence is referring to transcendental ideals, says Gaius. 

They're about bikes, says Terence. Are they there, or aren't they?

There are two behind the kiosk, says Roo-kai.

YES! says Terence. I know. I touched them.

Those are ours, says Gaius. 

Roo-kai looks down at the sand and pokes his beak at a pipi.

Another dead one? asks Gaius.

This one's still alive, says Roo-kai.

He cracks it open and eats it.

Now it's dead, says Terence. Will we count it?

Not that one, says Gaius.

Loads Is Not A Number

Roo-kai! shouts Terence.

I'm not Roo-kai, says the oystercatcher that looks like him.

You look like him, says Terence. 

That doesn't mean I am him, says the oystercatcher that looks like Roo-kai.

Ask him if he knows Roo-kai, says Gaius. 

Do you know Roo-kai? asks Terence.

Everyone knows him, says the oystercatcher. But I know him best.

I know him best, says Terence.

Then where is he? asks the oystercatcher who isn't Roo-kai.

On his way, says Terence.

Good answer, says the oystercatcher who isn't Roo-kai. 

Go and find him, says Terence. I need him really badly.

What for? asks the oystercatcher who isn't Roo-kai.

I'll tell him, not you, says Terence.

Okay, says the oystercatcher. I'm going.

He rises, and flies away.

That oystercatcher certainly looked like Roo-kai, says Gaius. 

He's going to find him, says Terence.

Meanwhile let's get on with our task, says Gaius. 

The wind howls. Foam blows in from the sea.

Pity we don't have that thermometer, says Gaius. I should think the sea's temperature will have dropped quite considerably.

Want me to go in? asks Terence. Just with my toes.

You wouldn't feel anything, says Gaius. I suppose I could though.

He kicks off his crocs.

Jumping Jupiter! The water is chilly!

A good sign, says Gaius.

Sweezus comes over.

Two dead puffer fish, says Sweezus. And a dead leafy sea dragon. And loads of dead pipis.

Loads is not a number, says Gaius. I'd prefer you to count them.

We need more people, says Sweezus. I'll drive back to town and get Arthur and Kant.

Yes do that, and check that Kant has the thermometer, says Gaius. 

Guess what, says Terence. I saw Roo-kai. But it wasn't him. But the one that wasn't him is going to find him.

So we were led to believe, says Gaius. 

Cool, says Sweezus. That might be him now.

Terence turns.

An oystercatcher is approaching, stepping over ragged seaweed and dead pipis.

Roo-kai! shouts Terence.

Six thousand three hundred and seven, says Roo-kai. Hello Terence.

Dead pipis? asks Gaius.

And counting, says Roo-kai.

Gaius looks pleased.  

Sweezus even more so.

Orange Legs Descending

There is no one else on the beach.

Not alive, anyway.

You go that way, says Gaius. I'll go this. We'll record what we find.

Which way do I go? asks Terence.

Come with me, says Gaius. 

Sweezus goes off on his own.

What shitty weather. And freezing. And here's him in shorts and a tee shirt. 

He nearly steps on a dead puffer fish. 

Dead fish number one.

How's he meant to record it?  Yeah, on his phone.

He takes out his phone. 

He has a missed call from Arthur.

He calls Arthur back.

Hey! says Arthur. What's up?

The wind's up, the tide's up, and it's raining, says Sweezus. What do you reckon?

That we're better off here, says Arthur.

Where's here? asks Sweezus.

The Wharf Barrel Shed, says Arthur. On the wharf. They've got local wines, craft beer and cider, and they do toasted sandwiches.

So shall I come and pick you up? asks Sweezus. I'm counting dead creatures. 

No hurry, says Arthur. Kant's ordered two toasties.

Well at least make yourself useful, says Sweezus.

How? asks Arthur.

Ask him questions, says Sweezus. And remember the answers. For me.

Okay, says Arthur. Got to go. Here comes my toastie.

The call ends abruptly.

Sweezus records one dead puffer fish on his phone.

Make that two dead puffer fish.

And a row of dead skates. And at least thirty mussels.

Gaius and Terence have gone the other way.

The wind howls.

I can't hear you, shouts Terence.

I didn't say anything! shouts Gaius. 

You squawked! shouts Terence.

That would have been a bird! shouts Gaius. 

Was it dead? shouts Terence.

I didn't see it! shouts Gaius. But it wouldn't have squawked if it was.

That's good! shouts Terence.

Squawk!

Maybe it's a fish dying, thinks Terence. 

He kicks at a heap of wet seaweed.

And uncovers a dead fish. 

Was that your last squawk? asks Terence.

The dead fish remains silent. Too late for an answer.

Gaius comes over, to record Terence's find.

Squawk!

This time Gaius hears it.

He looks up.

Terence looks up too.

Orange legs are descending.

Topped by black and white feathers.

Surely it can't be Roo-Kai?

Not Two Illusions

Gaius gets into the car.

What did you see? asks Terence.

Two bikes, says Gaius. Just where we left them.

Or two illusions, says Terence.

What have you been telling him? asks Gaius.

Nothing, says Sweezus. He's becoming a kind of philosopher.

That's good to hear, says Gaius. Although I would prefer him to become a proper scientist.

I'm already a proper scientist, says Terence.

Then I assume you have brought the thermometer, says Gaius.

Terence goes through his gecko shorts' pockets.

Looks like he hasn't.

Kant must have it, says Gaius. Never mind, we can still count the dead marine creatures.

Yeah, says Sweezus. 

And obtain samples, says Gaius.

Let's do it, says Sweezus.

They get out of the car.

The wind howls.

The rain blows sideways.

Foam quivers.

Wait, says Terence.

He runs across to the kiosk, and disappears behind it.

Bet he's checking that the bikes are real, says Sweezus.

How likely is it that two bikes would be an illusion? says Gaius. 

Yeah, not two bikes, says Sweezus. One bike maybe. Or at least it might turn out to be haunted.

That's totally different, says Gaius.

Schopenhauer's bike for example, says Sweezus. That was haunted.

Haunted is not the same as illusory, says Gaius. And that bike was not haunted. It only affected the suggestible.

Not you? says Sweezus.

Not me, says Gaius.

Terence runs back having checked that the two bikes are real.

They're real! says Terence.

How do you know? asks Sweezus.

That's enough philosophy, warns Gaius.

I TOUCHED them, says Terence.

That will suffice, says Gaius. Let's go down to the beach.

And they fell over! says Terence. Ha ha! No they didn't.

Good one, says Sweezus.

On that positive note, they head down to the beach.

Transcendental Stuff

How are they going to get back? asks Terence.

Arthur'll call me, says Sweezus. And I'll pick them up.

What if he doesn't? asks Terence.

Then I won't have to, says Sweezus. 

How did you get on with your interview with Kant? asks Gaius. Is it finished?

Not yet, says Sweezus. There's more transcendental stuff we haven't touched on.

What's trans-dental stuff? asks Terence.

Transcendental stuff, says Sweezus.

That's a stupid answer, says Terence.

That wasn't the answer, says Sweezus. That was the right way to say it.

So what is it? asks Terence.

Ask Gaius, says Sweezus. I'm driving.

What's this? asks Gaius, who is thinking about algal blooms.

Terence wants to know what's transcendental, says Sweezus. 

Spiritual things, says Gaius. 

I know about those, says Terence.

Perhaps you should interview Kant then, says Sweezus.

Kant's transcendental may be different, says Gaius.

Yeah it is, says Sweezus. Idealism, and ethics. 

But what does it mean really? asks Terence.

It means what can we know, says Gaius. 

That's easy, says Terence. 

They have arrived at the Goolwa Beach carpark.

The wind howls. Waves crash. Foam rises and crumples.

I hope our bikes are all right, says Gaius. We left them behind the kiosk.

Go and look, says Sweezus.

He and Terence stay in the car gazing out at the seascape.

What can we know? asks Terence.

He loves this question.

Everything's fucked, says Sweezus. I mean cactus.

How do we know? asks Terence.

What? asks Sweezus.  We just know.  Unless we're some kind of philosopher who can't just accept it.

Gaius taps on the window.

He is mouthing something.

Uh bke sah orih!

The bikes are all right, says Sweezus.

That's good, says Terence.

See, says Sweezus. Gaius checked the bikes . The bikes are all right. He came back and told us. Now we know.

It seems simple enough when Sweezus says it, but Terence has now got a taste for transcendental philosophy.

But WE didn't see them, so we don't really know, says Terence.

I guess you're right, says  Sweezus. But we could get out and look. 

What if we got out and looked and we saw an illusion? asks Terence.

Let's ask Gaius if he thinks he saw an illusion, says Sweezus.

He opens the door.

If You Were My Man

Sweezus checks the weather forecast on his phone.

High tides, windy, cold and wet, says Sweezus. 

That need not deter us, says Gaius. Although I imagine you were thinking of surfing.

Yeah, says Sweezus. Looks like surfing's off.

I hope I shall get my afternoon walk in, says Kant.

Do you do it rain or shine? asks Sweezus.

I do, says Kant. If it looks like rain my man follows me with an umbrella.

You have a man? asks Sweezus.

Not here, says Kant. Back at home. I wonder how he's doing?

You should send him a post card, says Gaius.

What a nice idea, says Kant. 

Or an SMS, says Sweezus. With a photo.

Even better, says Kant. It would be more immediate.

Indeed, says Gaius. Would you like to use my phone? You don't seem to have one.

Perhaps you could show me how, says Kant.

First, says Gaius, we take a photo. What would you like to be seen to be doing?

Perhaps looking out of the window, says Kant. 

Excellent, says Gaius. Go and stand by the window. 

Kant goes to stand by the window.

It's raining, says Kant. That may worry my man.

Yes, says Gaius. He may wonder if you have an umbrella.

Which I don't, says Kant.

Do it later, says Sweezus.

Yes, says Gaius. When the sun comes out. Remind us to do it.

When are we going to the beach? asks Terence.

As soon as everyone's ready, says Gaius. 

Everyone? says Arthur.

I assume you'll be coming, says Gaius. We need all hands on deck to count the dead fish.

I'm coming, says Terence. I'm the temperature guy.

That's the spirit, says Gaius. But keep away from the water.

Okay, says Terence. What shall I take the temperature of?

The sand, says Sweezus. Or the dead fish.

Yuck, says Terence.

Ready to go? asks Gaius.

Yes, everyone is.

They leave the Rose Eden apartment. 

They walk past the pavillion.

They walk to the hotel car park.

And pile into the car.

The manager comes out of the hotel.

Wait! cries the manager.

But they have driven away.

Shit! says Sweezus. The manager! Didn't he want to make a promotional video?

So he did, says Gaius. We'll come back later and explain that we needed to get to the beach now the weather is changing.

Drop me off, says Arthur. I'll go back and explain.

It's me he wants, says Kant. Drop me off as well.

Sweezus stops the car.

Arthur and Kant get out and start walking back towards the Goolwa hotel in the increasing rain.

If you were my man... begins Kant.

We'd have an umbrella, says Arthur.

Old Dog

Gaius distributes the warm bread rolls.

Now where is that cheese?

He finds it, in the bottom of his backpack.

Arthur produces his knife and cuts chunks off the cheese.

Tea or coffee? asks Sweezus, who has just boiled the kettle.

Coffee for me, answers Kant.

Sweezus hands him a sachet.

Kant looks at the sachet. How is this coffee?

Freeze-dried granules, sealed in foil, explains Sweezus.

Kant wishes that he had said tea.

I'll open it for you, says Terence. I know how to.

Very well, says Kant. You'll be teaching an old dog new tricks.

What? says Terence.

I being the old dog, says Kant.

You should probably drink water, says Terence.

It's an expression, says Sweezus. And I'll be wanting those headphones back after breakfast.

Okay, says Terence. Do I look like I've been through a danger, and survived?

Sure do, says Sweezus. Want me to take a photo?

Yes! says Terence.

Sweezus takes a photo of Terence's dangerous headpiece.

Want to see it? asks Sweezus. 

Yes, says Terence. 

He looks at the photo.

In the photo, he looks like a geek.

A geek who has put an apple under his headphones, to eat later, and you can't even see the kebab stick.

Front on, it just looks like a dot.

He takes off the headphones. 

Gaius saves the apple from rolling onto the floor.

We can use parts of this apple, says Gaius. 

He withdraws the kebab stick.

Knife, Arthur.

Arthur hands him the knife.

Gaius cuts away the bruised parts and scrapes off all traces of (presumably) Arthur's kebab.

Then he cuts the good parts into slices.

Help yourselves, says Gaius.

Only some of them do.

Wasted

The kebab stick falls to the ground.

Terence is saved.

Want me to try again? asks Arthur.

No, says Terence. 

Okay, says Arthur, picking up the kebab stick.

Did I look brave? asks Terence.

You had your eyes shut, says Arthur.

In case you missed, says Terence. 

Which I did, says Arthur.

How does the apple look? asks Terence.

Good, says Arthur. If you don't want it, I'll have it.

 I do want it, says Terence. But I wish the kebab stick was in it.

Hold still, says Arthur.

Terence holds still.

Arthur sticks the kebab stick into the apple.

Does it look dangerous? asks Terence.

Not very, says Arthur. Unless you're the apple.

If I'm the apple, says Terence, what's this under me?

It's you, says Arthur. But you're as one with the apple.

Terence thinks about being as one with the apple.

It means there's a kebab stick stuck through his middle.

Take it out, says Terence.

No keep it, says Arthur. It shows you've been through something dangerous, and survived.

Like the kid, says Terence.

Gaius comes back with a bag of warm bread rolls.

He sees Terence, with the apple on his head, held in place by the headphones, and a kebab stick sticking out of the apple.

You've wasted a good apple, says Gaius. Come inside.

Arthur and Terence follow Gaius inside.

Sweezus and Kant are still sleeping, either side of the bolster.

But the scent of warm bread rolls wakes them.

They sit up.

Come into the self catering area, says Gaius. I have warm bread rolls, and there should be cheese somewhere. Unfortunately, however, we no longer have the last apple.

The Private Apple

Gaius looks out of the window.

A grey dawn.

No point going back to bed now, says Gaius.

For you maybe, says Sweezus.

You're welcome to take my half of the four poster, says Gaius. I'll see about breakfast.

There's an apple, says Terence.

One apple will not suffice, says Gaius. 

Can I have it? asks Terence.

As long as you don't try to eat it, says Gaius.

I wasn't going to, says Terence. I was going to wear it.

On your head? says Gaius. I know what you're thinking.

How will I keep it on my head? asks Terence.

You must work that out for yourself, saus Gaius. I'll pop outside and wake Arthur.

Terence is left alone in the self catering area.

In his hand is the apple.

Round his neck are Sweezus's headphones.

He holds the apple in place on his head with one hand and tries to lift the headphones into place with the other.

This is harder to do than he thought. 

His arm needs to be longer.

Or he needs help.

He climbs down off the clothes horse, and goes outside to find Gaius.

Instead he finds Arthur.

Where's Gaius? asks Terence.

Gone to pick up some bread rolls, says Arthur. Why have you got an apple?

It's private, says Terence.

Okay, says Arthur. Why have you got Sweezus's headphones?

For galloping music, says Terence.

Did he give them to you? asks Arthur.

Yes, says Terence.

What was the galloping music? asks Arthur.

Duddl-a-a-a, says Terence.

Which is instantly recognisable.

That's a good one, says Arthur. 

Not as good as I thought, says Terence. The dad shoots an arrow at an apple, but guess what?

The apple's on his kid's head, says Arthur. 

I know, says Terence. I was going to put this apple on my head to see how it feels.

The apple? asks Arthur.

The danger, says Terence. But the kid must have had a flat head.

 I'll help you, says Arthur.

Terence holds the apple while Arthur sets the headphones in place.

Terence looks funny but that doesn't matter.

Now you know, says Arthur.

I don't know, says Terence.

Want me to aim at you? asks Arthur.

What with? asks Terence.

A kebab stick, says Arthur.

Terence doesn't ask why Arthur has a kebab stick. 

And nor should we.

Arthur steps away from Terence.

He holds the kebab stick like a spear, aimed at the apple.

What does it feel like? asks Arthur.

That depends if I trust you, says Terence.

I'm your dad, says Arthur. You trust me. Now what does it feel like?

Stop! cries Terence.  

I can't, says Arthur. 

He throws the kebab stick at the apple. 

Twang Splat! Plop

 Oh yeah the apple, says Sweezus. It rolled out of the fruit bowl.

Not off Terence's head? says Gaius.

What? says Sweezus. 

Never mind, says Gaius. It was a jocular reference. I believe Terence is listening to William Tell. 

Hey, yeah! says Sweezus. I'd forgotten. Dude shot an apple.

Off his son's head, says Gaius. 

Crazy! says Sweezus. 

He was an excellent shot with the cross bow, says Gaius. 

Anyone can fuck up, says Sweezus.

He had two arrows ready, says Gaius. If his son died, the second one was to shoot the despot who forced him to do it.

Cool story, says Sweezus.

Indeed, says Gaius. 

Terence takes off his head phones.

It's finished, says Terence. 

Want it again? asks Sweezus.

No, says Terence. I'm too sad.

How come? asks Sweezus.

I'm remembering Buster, says Terence. 

That was long ago, says Gaius. Buster will be an old pony now.

I had lessons on Buster, says Terence. He tried to make me fall off.

I remember, says Gaius.

And he tried not to let me get on, says Terence.

But you did it, says Sweezus.

And I got a certificate, says Terence.

Yes, the certificate, says Gaius.

And I lost it, says Terence. 

You don't need it to ride on a clothes horse, says Sweezus. 

Or a bolster, says Gaius.

Cheer up, says Sweezus. Gaius was telling me a cool story about William Tell.

Ahem... says Gaius.

Did he have a pony? asks Terence.

Probably, says Sweezus. He was also good at shooting with a bow and arrow. He was so good he could shoot an apple off his little kid's head.

But he wouldn't, says Terence.

No, he DID! says Sweezus. Some guy made him. Twang. Splat! Plop. The arrow split the apple.

But what if he missed and killed his own kid...? asks Terence.

He was a super accurate shooter, says Sweezus. 

But was the kid scared? asks Terence. 

He wasn't says Sweezus. He would've trusted his dad.

I wouldn't, says Terence.

Sweezus thinks, Yeah, I wouldn't either.

The Infamous Apple

He got it from two old French saints, says Sweezus.

Perfect balance? says Kant. How did that come about?

I deserved it, says Terence.

Which saints were these? pursues Kant.

Méen and Maclou, says Sweezus.

Never heard of them, says Kant.

They're not that famous, says Sweezus. They wear beanies and live on potatoes.

How could you be sure they were saints? asks Kant.

Because they BUZZED! says Terence.

And he actually got perfect balance, says Sweezus. 

See? says Terence. 

He jigs a bit more on the clothes horse

Kant can't argue with that.

Well, he could, but it doesn't seem worth it.

Can I have the head phones? asks Terence.

Sure, says Sweezus, putting the headphones on Terence's head.

Where's the music? asks Terence.

I'll find some, says Sweezus. What's good for galloping?

Diddley dee? says Terence.

No way, says Sweezus. That's for Irish dancing.

Kant laughs. Diddley dee.

Any ideas? asks Sweezus.

How about the William Tell overture? suggests Kant. 

Awesome! says Sweezus. Get this, Terence.

Duddl-ah-duddl-ah-duddl-ah-a-a, duddl-ah-duddl-ah-duddl-ah-a-a.......

Go Buster! shouts Terence.

You're supposed to be silent, says Sweezus.

But Terence can't hear him.

Sweezus lifts the headphones. 

Quiet, says Sweezus. 

Okay, says Terence. 

Sweezus replaces the headphones.

Duddl-ah duddl-ah.....

Well, I might leave you to it, says Kant.

He stands up to leave the self catering area, and go back to bed.

On the way he bumps into Gaius.

They've woken you too, I see, says Kant.

Indeed, says Gaius. What was all that racket?

It's quiet now, says Kant. Terence is listening to the William Tell overture while silently riding a clothes horse called Buster.

Buster! says Gaius. I thought I heard him shouting 'Go Buster!'

You did, says Kant. But Sweezus has asked him to be quiet.

I may as well get myself a glass of water, says Gaius.

Mind the chair and the fruit bowl, says Kant. 

The fruit bowl? says Gaius. 

It's on the floor, says Kant.

Gaius makes his way to the self catering area.

He does not bump into the chair, nor tip over the fruit bowl, but nearly steps on the apple.

He picks up the apple.

Sorry for waking you, says Sweezus. We tried not to.

Not at all, says Gaius. I see you've gone to a great deal of trouble to keep Terence amused through the night. Most commendable.

Yeah, thanks, says Sweezus.

Even to the extent of playing him the William Tell overture on the headhones, says Gaius.

Yeah, says Sweezus.

And providing the infamous apple, says Gaius. 

 

In Case Kant Is Confused

Terence leans forward.

But he can't reach the ends of drawers.

He stretches further.

His nose hits the bar.

He is in this position when Kant stumbles into the self catering area.

Excuse me, mumbles Kant. Glass of water....

He bumps into a chair.

The chair upends and the fruit bowl tips over, releasing an apple.

The clothes horse starts slowly collapsing.

What's happening? shouts Kant.

Save me! cries Terence.

Where are you? asks Kant, whose eyes are not yet in focus.

On this horse, says Terence. But it looks like an elephant, he adds, in case Kant is confused.

Use your foot, says Sweezus, coming in with the headphones.

Kant thrusts a foot forward and halts the collapse of the clothes horse.

Lucky I've got perfect balance, says Terence.

Sweezus replaces the chair and the fruit bowl. 

I only came in for a glass of water, says Kant.

Now you can't get one, says Terence.

It's true. The sink and the taps are on the other side of the clothes horse. As is the fridge.

I'll get it, says Sweezus. He steps over the fruit bowl and fills a glass from the tap.

I suppose I could have done that, says Kant.

He sits down on the chair, sipping his water.

So Terence has perfect balance, says Kant.

I got it in France, says Terence.

Kant watches him jigging up and down on the clothes horse.

That's not where one usually acquires it, says Kant

Oh Yeah Headphones

Sweezus lets Terence and himself into the room.

Gaius and Kant are asleep on the four poster bed, either side of the bolster.

Scraaaape! goes the clothes horse, as it passes the door frame.

Shh! says Sweezus.

Shh! says Terence.

Rustle! goes the clothes horse.

Sweezus sets the clothes horse up in the self catering area, on its side, one edge to the wall.

Help me look for something to stop the other side from sliding, whispers Sweezus.

Terence looks.

He points to the fruit bowl.

Needs to be heavier, says Sweezus.

Terence points to a chair.

Sweezus moves the chair into position.

Better test it, says Sweezus.

He presses the horizontal bar of the clothes horse.

Scraaape!

It's slipping! says Terence.

Errhuh! coughs Gaius. His dream of dead puffer fish is disturbed.

Sweezus sticks up two fingers.

Terence wonders why.

Sweezus takes a second chair and places it next to the first one.

There is now just a small gap between that and the opposite wall. 

Now we can use the fruit bowl, says Terence (too loudly).

Rumble-rumble, rumbles Kant.  In his dream, Mrs Hill spirits an orange from a fruit bowl.

Sweezus places the fruit bowl beside the second chair.

Tests the clothes horse for slippage.

Great, no movement there.

He lifts Terence on.

Terence holds onto the bar.

Now he's supposed to get Sweezus's head phones and some galloping music.

He turns towards Sweezus to ask.

Oh yeah headphones. Sweezus remembers. Shit though, They're out in the car.

Gotta go out and get the head phones, whispers Sweezus. You stay there and don't start clicking or anything.

Okay, whispers Terence.

Sweezus goes out. 

Terence has nothing to do now but sit there.

It would be good if his horse had some reins.

He looks at its head (cotton drawers).

The two legs of the cotton drawers dangle like trunks of two elephants. Which kind of wrecks it.

But they might make good reins.

Terence leans forward ..... 

Perfect For One Second

It's a wooden clothes horse, in three upright sections, with hinges.

It doesn't look like I expected, says Terence.

That's because of the stuff draped all over it, says Sweezus. Let's take it off.

Terence starts to pull off the pillowcases and antimacassars.

Don't drop them, says Sweezus. Mrs Hill will have to wash them again.

With no hands, says Terence.

Yeah, says Sweezus. And no anything. I wonder how she strung up these wet socks and undies?

On her tiptoes, says Terence.

Think about that, says Sweezus.

While Terence thinks about Mrs Hill's tiptoes, Sweezus throws the pillowcases and antimacassars across the wet socks and cotton drawers overhead.

They should dry just the same.

Now the clothes horse is exposed in all its non-horseness.

It's no good, says Terence. 

Wait till I turn it on its side, says Sweezus. 

He tips it and turns it into a triangular structure.

Terence sees the possibility.

If he sat on the top bar, it would look bit horsey. 

It would be better with a head, says Terence.

Yeah it would, says Sweezus. 

He whips down a pair of cotton drawers, and hooks them over one end of the top bar.

It looks like an elephant, says Terence.

Imagine it's a horse, says Sweezus. 

With two trunks, says Terence. Okay. It needs a tail at the other end.

Easy. Sweezus pulls down a sock.

Now I get on, says Terence. Can you lift me?

Sure can, says Sweezus.

He lifts Terence onto the top bar of the horse.

For one second, it's perfect.

And then...

The elephant horse collapses.

It was bound to do that, says Sweezus. You okay?

Yes, says Terence. Can I try again?

The same thing'll happen, says Sweezus. 

Unless we stop it, says Terence.

Yep. We could jam something up against the sides, says Sweezus.

Yes! says Terence. Let's do it!

We'll take it back to our room, says Sweezus. It's cold in this laundry.

Is it? asks Terence. But we'd have to be quiet.

I'll set you up in the self catering area, says Sweezus. 

But I'd still have to be quiet, says Terence.

Tell you what, says Sweezus. You can wear my head phones and I'll find you some galloping-type music. No one'll hear it but you.

And my horse, says Terence.

Sweezus picks up the clothes horse and Terence follows him out of the laundry.

It's three am in Goolwa. 

No one sees them.

And what if they did?

It's not like they're stealing a horse

(or an elephant).

Unreliable Hinges

They leave Arthur asleep in the car and head back to Rose Eden.

They stop in the pavillion, to work out where to go next.

I know! says Terence. Let's listen for neighing.

Clothes horses don't neigh, says Sweezus. 

What do they do? asks Terence.

They fold open, says Sweezus. You can turn them on their sides and make them into a tent.

Don't they die? asks Terence.

They can't die, says Sweezus.

Even if they're made into a tent? asks Terence.

They're not a tent until you put something over them, says Sweezus.

That's good says Terence. My clothes horse won't be a tent.

Yeah, says Sweezus. Let's hope it's the right sort of clothes horse.

It will be, says Terence.

He feels confident.

Sweezus, not so much.

Now he thinks about clothes horses he has known in the past ( not all that many), none have been anything like horses. Their legs were too thin. Their hinges unreliable. On the other hand, Mrs Hill's clothes horse is from a different era.

We'll head round the back, says Sweezus. See if there's some kind of laundry.

They head round the back.

The swimming pool is full of dark water, except for tiny particles of vomit, which look white, but are pink in reality.

I know what that is, says Sweezus.

My vomit, says Terence.

They should've turned on the filters, says Sweezus.

Why don't you do it? asks Terence.

Don't know where the switch is, says Sweezus.

Maybe in there, says Terence, pointing to a door at the back of Rose Eden.

Sweezus tries the door.

The door opens onto Mrs Hill's laundry.

An old washing machine with a wringer.

Damp socks and cotton drawers, strung from one side of the room to the other.

And a clothes horse, draped with pillow cases and antimacassars.

We're in luck, says Sweezus. That's a clothes horse.

Terence is disappointed. 

Flukes Of Perception

What's that clicking? asks Gaius.

What happened to the bolster? asks Kant.

It seems they have woken.

And Sweezus was never asleep.

It's me, says Terence. I forgot to be quiet. 

He slows the bolster to a gentle trot and stops clicking.

Kant sits up.

So does Gaius.

We need that bolster between us in order to sleep, says Gaius. Give it back, Terence. You've had a good ride.

Terence dismounts from the bolster and attempts to lift it onto the four poster bed.

Which is harder than pulling it off.

If it was a real horse it would jump, says Terence.

But it's not a real horse, says Sweezus. 

This place is full of not real horses, says Terence.

Where is there another one ? asks Gaius.

Mrs Hill said there was a clothes horse somewhere, says Sweezus.

Can I go and find it? asks Terence.

Not on your own, says Sweezus. But seeing I'm awake I'll come with you. We'll see how Arthur's going.

Excellent, says Gaius, rearranging the bolster.

Sweezus and Terence go out.

Kant and Gaius lie down either side of the bolster.

No one hums, but they soon drift into pre-slumber reveries.

Gaius'e reverie is as follows: It is morning, but Sweezus and Terence and Arthur are gone. He and Kant share a bowl of cooked mussels for breakfast and become indisposed. A tasseled night cap leads them to the infirmary......

Kant's reverie is a resumption of the puzzle of Mrs Hill. Why was she insubstantial? Could it be a mismatch of time and space? A fluke of perception? The evolution of a new type of being? Perhaps she was. Not that one could see any use for her talents.....

Soon they are snoring.

Sweezus and Terence have reached the car park in front of the hotel.

There's the car, says Sweezus. 

They go up to it and Sweezus peers through the window.

Arthur is asleep on the back seat, with his knees up.

He looks okay, says Sweezus. Let's go and look for that clothes horse.

Yes! Terence and Sweezus are going to look for a clothes horse. 

In the dark! 

This is Terence's best night ever.

Hummy Hummy

Sweezus lies on the couch, which is not long enough.

Sleep evades him

Terence comes over.

Will you hum something? asks Terence.

What for? asks Sweezus.

Nothing, says Terence.

I'm not humming something for nothing, says Sweezus.

To make Gaius and Kant go to sleep, whispers Terence.

They are asleep, says Sweezus. 

Not asleep enough, whispers Terence.

So, a lullaby, says Sweezus. 

Why not? It might help him go to sleep too.

He hums Brahms's Lullaby. 

Hmm hmm hmmmm, etc.

What are you humming for? asks Gaius, from his side of the four poster.

Sorry, says Sweezus. Thought you were asleep.

I'm not, says Gaius. But I think Kant is.

I am not, says Kant, from his side of the bolster.

I may as well keep humming, says Sweezus.

Go ahead, says Gaius. 

Sweezus hums more of Brahms's Lullaby. Hmm hmm hmmm.

It is soothing, that lullaby.

Gaius drops off first, thinking of clouds of grey algae, and piles of dead fish....

Kant drops off next, puzzling about how it might be possible for a non-substantial person to wear a tasseled night cap and eat an orange....

They're asleep, whispers Terence.

Sweezus stops humming.

That leaves me, says Sweezus. Maybe you could hum something.

Okay, says Terence. Turn over and don't watch me.

Sweezus has his suspicions about the don't watch me.

But he turns over. His knees hit the back of the couch. 

He can't stay long in this position.

Hummy hummy, hums Terence.

He tiptoes to the end of the four poster bed, takes hold of the end of the bolster....

and PULLS.

It starts moving, and ends up on the floor.

Terence now has a horse, or something like it.

He stops humming, mounts the bolster, and starts clicking his tongue.

Concocting A Plan

The night draws on, says old Phillip. We should be going.

He pats an area below the tasseled night cap.

Let me finish my orange, dear, says the tasseled night cap.

Bring it with you, says old Phillip.

The tasseled night cap and half an orange make their way to the door.

They stop there.

Thank you for a lovely evening, says the tasseled night cap.

Thank you for ironing our wet duvet cover, says Gaius.

It should dry quickly now, says old Phillip. This room is becoming quite warm.

I cranked up the heating, says Sweezus.

Modern times, says old Phillip.

Indeed, says Gaius. Good night to you and your good lady.

Good night all, says old Phillip.

He follows the tasseled night cap and half orange out through the door.

Now I think we should all get some sleep, says Gaius. 

I agree, says Kant. How will we do this?

There's the four poster bed, says Gaius. You and I will share it.

I'm not used to sharing, says Kant. 

Then you must have it, says Gaius.

Too kind, says Kant. But I must insist that you have it.

I'll have it, says Terence. It's a pirate ship, I can go sailing all night.

Use the bolster, says Sweezus.

What's the bolster? asks Terence.

That thing, says Sweezus. pointing at the bolster. And I didn't mean you, I meant them.

But now Terence has discovered the bolster, which would do for a horse.

 A horse on a pirate ship. Perfect.

Gaius has realised that the bolster could be the answer.

We place it down the centre, says Gaius. 

I see, says Kant. You on your side, me on mine. I'm willing to try it.

Good. That is settled, says Gaius. What about you boys?

We told the manager we'd sleep in the car, says Sweezus.

It's cold out, says Gaius. Sleep in here on the couch. The manager doesn't need to know.

That's sneaky, says Terence.

It's only big enough for one person, says Sweezus.

You have it, says Arthur. I'll sleep in the car.

No way! says Sweezus. 

You know me, says Arthur. I draw inspiration from discomfort.

Good one, bro, says Sweezus. I owe you.

Arthur takes the car keys and goes out.

The others sort out their sleeping arrangements.

Placing the bolster.

Moving cushions to the end of the couch.

Terence stands by the window looking out at the pavillion, concocting a plan.

It has something to do with the bolster.

Too Long Considering

The orange rises to just below the tasseled night cap.

And stops, and starts peeling itself.

It may seem impolite, but Kant can't stop watching.

The peelings land neatly on the white kitchen table.

The orange divides itself in two, and one half drops onto the table.

A segment peels off the other half, and rises slowly.

Now where will it go?

Are you intending to watch me eat this? asks the tasseled night cap.

The orange segment wags back and forth.

Forgive me, says Kant. 

He turns away, and misses what happens.

Another glass of wine? asks Gaius.

Why not? says Kant. This a most unusual evening. 

Gaius pours him a small glass.

I too was curious, says Gaius.

Were you watchng? asks Kant.

From a distance, says Gaius. 

What did you see? asks Kant.

It disappeared immediately , says Gaius. I was half expecting to watch it go down.

How far? asks Kant. 

That I did not know, says Gaius. It depended on how substantial Mrs Hill was.

She appears to be non-substantial, says Kant. But at the same time, she cannot be, if the orange segment disappeared the moment it entered her orifice.

He turns to look again at the tasseled nightcap.

Ouch!

He is hit in the eye.

Gaius bends down to pick up what it was that hit Kant in the eye..

An orange pip! says Gaius.

The tasseled night cap bobs nearer.

Forgive me, laughs the tasseled night cap. I couldn't resist it. I do have excellent hearing.

And a fine spitting distance, says Gaius.

Unfortunately for me, says Kant. It makes me wish you'd accepted a chocolate.

I try to do without chocolates, says the tasseled night cap. I have lately become somewhat stout.

Surely not, madam! says Kant. One cannot perceive it.

Nice of you to say so, says the tasseled night cap.

Are you buttering my wife up? asks old Phillip, coming over.

He was paying me a compliment, says the tasseled night cap.

Oho! A ladies' man! says old Phillip.

Hardly, says Kant. I am generally slow with the ladies.

That can have its enjoyments, says the tasseled night cap.

Alas, says Kant. Though I twice considered it, I've never married.

Too long considering? asks Gaius.

Too long considering, says Kant. 

An Orange Floats Up

Those are scorch marks, says Gaius. They won't come off easily.

Bleach might do it, says old Phillip. 

The weirdo lady said we should put it in an error, says Terence.

An airer, says Sweezus. 

What lady was this? asks old Phillip.

(although he suspects that he knows)

We didn't see her, says Sweezus. She was just a voice.

But you said she ironed it, says Kant.

She said she did, says Sweezus. I think she was Phillip's wife.

How so? asks old Phillip.

She said she had to go back to bed before you came home, says Terence.

Did she now? says old Phillip. Then I'd better be going.

Why not bring her over? asks Gaius. We have plenty of chocolates and wine.

And a fruit bowl, says Kant.

I suppose I could, says old Phillip. She enjoys the odd orange.

Me too, says Terence.

I'll see if she can be persuaded, says old Phillip.

He goes over to the door. Opens it.

And starts to shimmer.

Shimmer-shimmer-hup-hup.

She's coming, says old Phillip.

Is that how you communicate with your wife? asks Gaius. 

One of the ways, says old Phillip.

He waits at the open door.

It's not long before a tasseled night cap floats in.

My dear, why are you wearing your tasseled night cap? asks old Phillip.

Forgive me dear, I forgot to take it off, says the tasseled night cap.

Keep it on dear, says old Phillip. Then these good people will know where you are.

You always know best dear, says the tasseled night cap.

Allow me to introduce my dear wife, Mrs Hill, says old Phillip. 

Pleased to meet you, Mrs Hill,  says Kant. It's not every day one meets a disembodied spirit.

I'm not a disembodied spirit, says old Mrs Hill. Does a disembodied spirit wear a tasseled night cap?

I don't see why it shouldn't, replies Kant.

It would have nothing to rest on, says old Mrs Hill. Furthermore, could a disembodied spirit use an iron?

Perhaps she was unwise to ask this.

Kant looks pointedly at the scorched duvet cover.

An awkward moment.

May I offer you a chocolate? asks Gaius.

He thrusts the box of Favourites towards the tasseled night cap.

A chocolate rises out of the box. 

And drops back in again.

Perhaps something from the fruit bowl, says Gaius.

An orange floats up.

Not An Actual Horse

That seems miraculous, says Gaius.

It's not miraculous, says Arthur. They keep spare a one in the cupboard.

I assume the stained one is still draped on the sacred bamboo bush outside, says Gaius.

Probably, says Arthur. But I noticed the wind's getting up.

Perhaps you should bring it in then, says Gaius.

I'll go, says Sweezus. 

Can I come? asks Terence.

Sure little buddy, says Sweezus.

He and Terence go out to retrieve the wet duvet cover, before it blows away.

They arrive at the pavilion.

Where's the washing? asks Sweezus.

Must've blowed away, says Terence. Now what will we do?

Look for it, says Sweezus. You go that way, I'll go this way.

That's a really bad idea, says Terence.

Yeah it is, says Sweezus. We'll both go this way.

They go this way. But to no avail.

They return to the pavilion.

Looking for this, boys? asks a ghostly voice. This time a lady's.

Woo! says Terence. 

A folded damp duvet cover is hovering before them. But no lady.

Sweezus starts walking away.

The folded damp duvet cover follows him.

It's folowing you! cries Terence.

Sweezus turns and collides with the cover.

It coughs.

I should have expected a thankyou at least, says the ghostly voice of  the lady. I've ironed it. It's almost dry. Leave it overnight in an airer.

What's an airer? asks Sweezus. 

A mistake, says Terence.

The ghostly voice of the lady laughs. 

Funny boy. 

But, yeah, says Sweezus. What is it? 

A clothes horse, says the ghostly voice of the  lady.

Yay! says Terence. 

A clothes horse isn't an actual horse, says Sweezus.

You'll find one in the utility room, says the voice of the lady. I must return to my bed now before Phillip comes home.

Thanks, says Sweezus.

Thank you, Mrs Hill, says the lady.

She waits for him to repeat it. But he doesn't.

Her voice stops talking. 

Woop! says Terence. She was a weirdo. 

You said it, says Sweezus. At least we got the duvet cover. And we don't need the clothes horse.

He and Terence take the damp duvet cover back to the suite in Rose-Eden.

Excellent, says Gaius. But what took you so long? 

Some lady ironed it, says Sweezus. 

He unfolds it in order to drape it over a chair.

Oh no! It's covered in scorch marks! 

Old Phillip recognises the handiwork of his wife.

Good But Not That Good

Arthur is outside.

He has not yet recovered the wet duvet cover from the sacred bamboo.

The hotel next door is still open.

Why not? He goes in.

Back again? says the barman.

Back again, says Arthur. 

Too cold to sleep in your car? asks the barman.

Haven't tried yet, says Arthur. I've been visiting my friends in Rose-Eden next door.

Yeah? How do they like it? asks the barman.

They were a bit disappointed, says Arthur.

No shit! says the barman. Most people say that it's great.

It is pretty swanky, says Arthur. But there weren't any complimentary chocolates. And no wine either.

Don't know how that could've happened, says the barman. Here, take this shiraz. But I can't help with the chocolates.

What about the manager...? asks Arthur.

I'll ask him, says the barman. He buzzes the manager, who comes over.

Back again? says the manager.

Back again, says Arthur.

His friends didn't get their complimentary chocolates, says the barman.

Heads will roll, says the manager. 

I don't wan't anyone to get into trouble, says Arthur. But we also noticed the duvet cover was stained.

There'll be a spare one in the cupboard in the bedroom, says the manager. And extra blankets and pillows.

Super! says Arthur. But no chocolates. 

I'll see if I can rustle up a spare box, says the manager.

He goes out the back, and returns with big box of Favourites, and gives them to Arthur.

Many thanks, says Arthur.

He leaves the hotel, with the shiraz and the Favourites.

He returns to the suite in Rose-Eden, and plonks them down on the white kitchen table.

Very generous of you Arthur, says Gaius. And what about the duvet cover?

Already in the cupboard in the bedroom, says Arthur.

What?

Arthur is good but not that good.

How did he do that?

An Awful Invention.

Let us hope it will be dry by the morning, says Gaius.

I think you'll find it needs the sun to dry it properly, says old Phillip Hill.

Do you happen to know when check-out time is? asks Gaius.

No, says old Phillip. I'm only here at night.

They have arrived at the door of the suite.

They enter.

Guess what? shouts Terence, running into the self catering area.

Hey, little buddy, says Sweezus. Where've you been?

Outside, says Terence. I was just standing in the pavilion when a scary old man put his hand on my shoulder.

Shitballs! says Sweezus.

Fear not, says Gaius, entering with old Phillip, and Arthur. No harm was done.

Any chocolates left? asks Arthur.

He looks into the box, which is two thirds empty.

Apologies, says Kant. We've had more than our share. But we haven't touched the fruit bowl.

Arthur ignores the fruit bowl and scrabbles in the box for a chocolate. 

What's this one? A Turkish Delight.

Probably the hard jellyish type.

Allow me to introduce Mr Phillip Hill, the former head master of Goolwa Primary School, says Gaius. Phillip Hill, this is Immanuel Kant the philosopher and Sweezus, a colleague. 

Hi, says Sweezus. 

Pleased to meet you, says Kant.

He was going to put me in a farmery, says Terence. But Gaius stopped him.

What is a farmery? asks Kant.

The boy misheard me, says old Phillip Hill. The word was infirmary.

Of course there's no infirmary there now, says Gaius. It must have been where the pool is.

Yeah, how'd that go? asks Sweezus.

I went in and swished it around a bit, says Arthur.

So where is it? asks Kant.

On a bush outside, says Arthur.

Bring it in, says Sweezus. It'll dry faster in here if we crank up the heat.

What a good idea, says Gaius. Arthur will you...?

Arthur takes another chocolate and goes out. 

It's a strawberry cream.

Sweezus is interviewing Kant for an online magazine called Velosophy, says Gaius.

What is an online magazine? asks old Phillip.

It's like, a magazine, says Sweezus, but you read it on your laptop or phone.

How times have changed, says old Phillip.

They have, says Kant. Would you believe that I now ride a bicycle?

I would, says old Phillip. And I would not be the least bit surprised. I myself ride a bicycle.

I didn't mean that, says Kant. I meant that I am not a person who likes to try anything new. And yet here I am. Riding a bicycle, taking the temperature of seawater with a thermometer, helping to bury parts of a dead maugean skate on the beach.

And here I am, in this....err.. I suppose it's a kitchen. But where are the pots? And what's that white box with knobs and a window? asks old Phillip.

 A microwave, says Gaius. A foolish invention.

Why so? asks old Phillip. 

It heats things up from the middle, says Gaius. Example: Put in a cold pie. Turn it on. Ding! Take the pie out. Bite into the pie, All seems well, the pastry is warmish. But you soon discover that the filling is boiling and your tongue has been burned. There goes your enjoyment.

Old Phillip looks shocked.

What an awful invention.

Over The Sacred Bamboo

The ghostly old person is still deciding, when Gaius and Arthur come round to the front of Rose-Eden.

Gaius is squeezing pool water out of the cover.

Where shall we hang it? asks Gaius.

Drape it over one of these bushes, says Arthur.

It is now that they see Terence, in the grasp of a ghostly old person.

What's going on here? asks Gaius.

I might ask the same question, says the old person.

You might not, says Gaius. We have a wet duvet cover, admittedly not ours, but you appear to be abducting young Terence.

He's taking me to the farmery, says Terence.

He certainly isn't, says Gaius. Who are you, sir? 

Mr Phillip Hill, says the ghostly old person. Headmaster of Goolwa Primary School. And this is Hygiene House, where my wife and I keep our boarders.

I think you'll find you are in the wrong place, says Gaius. This is Rose-Eden House, a pricey bed and breakfast for tourists.

He might be in the wrong century, says Arthur.

Ah, says Gaius. You may be right, Arthur. When was this, or should I say, is this?

What a question, says the ghostly old Phillip Hill. Eighteen seventy six of course.

Of course, says Gaius. At which time this place was called Hygiene House?

My wife and I named it, says old Phillip Hill.

What on earth were you thinking? asks Gaius.

I know! says Terence. His wife was called Jean!

She wasn't, says old Phillip. Hygiene means cleanliness.

Among other things, says Gaius. 

It means Hello, says Terence.

It doesn't mean hello, says old Phillip.

No it doesn't, says Gaius. Perhaps Arthur can tell you what hygiene is.

Not rinsing vomit from a duvet cover into a swimming pool, says Arthur.

Good gracious! says  old Phillip. Don't tell me that's what you've done?

That is not your affair, says Gaius. I'll warrant there was no swimming pool out the back in your day.

True, there wasn't, says old Phillip Hill. I do beg your pardon.

Freely given, says Gaius. Why don't you come up to our room for a chat? I believe there are chocolates.

Better be, says Arthur.

I should be pleased to, says old Phillip Hill.

It is not often he gets such a kind invitation.

They all go inside, having left the wet duvet cover draped over a sacred bamboo.

Modes Of Perception

Gaius and Arthur are by the pool, out the back.

It is dark and the water is still.

I'm not sure how we do this, says Gaius.

Hold one end, drop it in, and swish it, says Arthur. 

Swish it? says Gaius. As in ... how?

If I jump in, says Arthur, it'll be easy.

He takes off his trainers and tee shirt, and jumps in.

From this position it should be easy to swish it.

Gaius holds onto one end of the stained duvet cover.

Arthur swishes.

The pink stain dissipates into the water.

The water which had been a shade of pool-blue, becomes slightly purple.

But at night you can't see it.

.....

In the self-catering area, Sweezus and Kant are sitting at a white kitchen table.

They have eaten half of the chocolates.

And are on their second glass of wine.

Sweezus is recording the interview on his phone.

Time and space are not things in themselves, says Kant.

Well, yeah, says Sweezus. So what are they?. 

They are modes of perception, says Kant.

Heavy, says Sweezus. 

Do you see what I'm getting at? asks Kant.

Yeah, modes of perception, says Sweezus. 

Exactly, says Kant.

He takes a chocolate. It's a peppermint cream.

Sweezus can smell it.

.....

But what of Terence?. 

What of that ghostly hand?

The ghostly hand is part of a ghostly person. An old grey man in formal grey clothes. 

Which boy are you? asks the ghostly old person.

Terence, says Terence.

Are you a new boy? asks the ghostly old person. 

I threw up, says Terence.

Then why aren't you in the infirmary? asks the ghostly old person.

Where is it? asks Terence.

Round the back, says the ghostly old person. I shall take you there.

He grips Terence firmly by the shoulder.

You are a hard boy, says the ghostly old person. 

Because I'm made of cement, says Terence.

The ghostly old person taps Terence's curls with a ghostly old finger.

Cement. Yes. Has he made a foolish mistake?

Will he continue to march the boy round to the infirmary?

Much depends on his decision.

If he does he will see Arthur arise from the pool draped in an off-white duvet cover.

If he doesn't, he won't.

The Ghostly Hand

Curses! says Gaius.

Terence climbs down from the four poster bed.

Sorry, says Terence. I couldn't help it.

It's not your fault, says Kant.

It is to some extent his fault, says Gaius.

The real question is, what do we do about it? asks Kant.

Take the cover off, says Gaius. And soak it. Let's hope the bright pink vomit hasn't seeped through to the duvet.

Wah! says Terence.

Sit quietly on that chair by the window, says Gaius. Until you feel better.

Terence stomps across to the chair.

He looks out of the window. At night the garden looks nice. There's an ornamental pavilion, a path and strings of tree lights.

Sweezus and Arthur are down there looking up at the window.

Sweezus waves at Terence, and makes a sign that means open the window.

But Terence can't open the window.

Arthur throws a rock at the window.

Yikes! says Terence.

What was that? asks Gaius.

Kant goes over, and opens the window.

A second rock sails in through the open window.

And misses his head.

The window is open! shouts Kant. Stop throwing rocks at it.

Merde! says Arthur. 

Can we come up? asks Sweezus.

Of course you can, says Kant. I'll meet you at the front door.

He meets them at the front door, and they enter the suite together.

Nice place! says Sweezus. 

I threw up, says Terence.

Where? asks Sweezus. 

On the pirate ship, says Terence.

We have a problem, says Gaius. 

He indicates the stained cover.

You need to soak that, says Sweezus.

I know, says Gaius. The problem is, where?

There's a pool out the back, says Arthur.

Is there? says Gaius. But we can't really...

Yeah we can, says Sweezus. It'll have a filter. Give it to us, we'll deal with it.

I'll go with Arthur, says Gaius. You're going to interview Kant.

So he is, says Kant. I had almost forgotten. Come, Sweezus. We'll sit in the self catering area.

How come? asks Sweezus.

Wine and chocolates, says Kant. Not to mention a fruit bowl.

So while Arthur and Gaius take the vomit-stained cover to the pool, Sweezus and Kant make a start on the interview, and the chocolates and wine.

Has everyone forgotten about Terence?

Terence slips out of the door and heads for the pavilion.

He stands in the middle, turning round slowly, because the pavilion is round.

What are you doing out here late at night, young fellow? asks a stern voice from the shadows.

Looking, says Terence.

Back to the dormitory at once! says the voice from the shadows.

A ghostly hand grasps Terence by the shoulder.

Some Bright Pink Stuff

When you've finished your dinners, I'll show you the suite, says the manager. 

I think we've all finished, says Gaius.

No desserts? asks the manager. We do a very nice sticky date pudding.

Arthur decides that he wants one. 

So they all have to wait .

Terence has stirred and stirred his ice cream with strawberry topping.

It's now a bright shade of pink.

He picks up the bowl and starts slurping.

Not so fast, says Gaius. It's thicker than you're used to.

Terence stops slurping and coughs.

Arthur's sticky date pudding arrives, topped with butterscotch sauce and ice cream.

Maybe I'll have one after all, says Sweezus.

The manager is hovering.

He's a busy person. He does not have all night.

Kant stands up. 

Perhaps you could show me the room now? says Kant. 

Certainly, Mr Kant, says the manager. Come with me.

I'll come too, says Gaius.

And me, says Terence.

The room only sleeps two, says the manager.

Terence doesn't need to sleep, says Gaius. He simply needs somewhere to be.

Come along then, says the manager.

He casts a backward glance at Sweezus and Arthur.

They look pretty settled.

...

This is the suite, says the manager. How do you like it?

There is an old fashioned four poster bed.

Terence takes a running jump and lands in the middle.

A pirate ship! says Terence.

A bit fancy, says Gaius.

Very comfortable, says Kant. What was the reasonable rate that you mentioned?

Half price, says the manager, if you'll allow me to make a promotional video.

Half of what? asks Kant.

Half of two ninety five, says the manager.

And our two colleagues, who remained in the hotel eating sticky date pudding? asks Kant.

There is another suite, says the manager.

Can't they sleep in this one? asks Kant.

What on? asks the manager.

The couch, says Gaius. And the bean bag.

There isn't a bean bag, says the manager.

They may be planning to sleep in the car, says Gaius.

Young and fit, says the manager. Right, I'll leave you to it. You'll find a complimentary bottle of wine, some chocolates and a fruit bowl in the self-catering area.

Excellent, says Gaius. 

I'll come round in the morning, says the manager. Have a good night.

He goes.

Terence stops bouncing.

Bluuuhhh! 

He vomits up some bright pink stuff.

On the fancy white cover of the old fashioned four poster bed.

Recognitions

The server takes a selfie with Kant.

And also captures three quarters of Sweezus

Arthur is in the background, picking his teeth with a tiny paper umbrella.

Thanks, says the server. Mind if I post this?

Not at all, says Kant.

Enjoy your drinks, says the server.

She goes back to the bar, and shows the barman the selfie.

So who is he? asks the barman.

Kanty-manuel or something, says the server. The other guy reckons he's famous.

The manager comes by to see what they're looking at.

A famous customer, says the barman.

The manager takes a look at the selfie.

Which one's famous?  asks the manager. 

This one, says the server.

Not the other one? says the manager. His face rings a bell.

That's just a guy with bits of oyster stuck in his teeth, says the server.

I meant this one, says the manager, pointing to the three quarters of Sweezus. Isn't he in Team Condor?

No way! says the barman. Yeah he is! The captain!

Ripper! Two famous people, says the server. 

She posts the photo on Insta, and instantly gets several likes.

The manager approaches the famous table.

Everything all right here? asks the manager.

Very nice thank you, says Gaius.

Problem with the pineapple? asks the manager.

Not at all, says Kant. I simply decided to leave it.

First time in Goolwa? asks the manager.

Yes it is, says Kant. And we're planning to sleep on the beach.

Not all of us, says Sweezus.

I wouldn't recommend it, says the manager. We have a lovely place next door, with a vacancy. I could arrange some cheap rates.

Very kind, but.... begins Gaius.

Perhaps we could look at it, says Kant. 

Yeah, good idea, says Sweezus. We could do the interview in comfort.

You're a journalist? asks the manager.

Kind of, says Sweezus. 

And an elite cyclist, says the manager. 

Kind of, says Sweezus again. Actually we all are, except Kant here, and Terence.

Kant, says the manager. Not THE Kant?

THE Kant, says Sweezus.  

I don't claim to be THE Kant, says Kant. 

But the manager is now certain that Kant is THE Kant.

What a coup, should THE Kant spend the night next door in Rose-Eden.

Just Rip Off The Paper

Separate, says Terence.

Not a problem, says the server.

She goes away and comes back with a saucer of pineapple pieces.

That's for him, says Terence.

Are these the same pieces you took away earlier? asks Kant.

Sure are, says the server. See the schnitty crumbs?

I wonder about the bacteria, says Gaius.

Bacteria? says Kant. What bacteria?

Your schnitzel was warm, says Gaius. I'm just saying.

Can I eat my icecream? asks Terence.

Stir it first, says the server.

Are we sharing it? asks Terence.

No, says Kant. In fact, I don't think I'll have anything.

Good decision, says Gaius.

Yeah, says Sweezus. Who's for a beer?

Me! says Terence.

You already had one, says Sweezus. 

He orders four beers.

And a toothpick, says Arthur. I've got oyster bits stuck in my teeth.

Floss is better, says the server. 

Floss then, says Arthur.

We don't give out floss, says the server.

She goes off to the bar, for the beers.

Who ARE those guys? asks the bartender.

Don't know, says the server. But the one on the right wants a toothpick.

I'll find him a toothpick, says the bartender.

He goes to the cocktail drawer and takes out a paper umbrella.

Tell him to use this, says the bartender. And tell him we don't want it back.

The server laughs, and takes four beers and the paper umbrella to the table where Arthur and the others are sitting.

This is for you, compliments of the bartender, says the server.

Free beer, cool, says Sweezus.

No, just the paper umbrella, says the server.

What am I meant to do with a paper umbrella? asks Arthur.

They're made out of toothpicks, says the server. Just rip off the paper.

Ingenious, says Gaius.

This is the sort of thing I expected to find on top of my Hawaiian schnitty, says Kant.

You must have been disappointed, says the server. 

I never allow myself to feel disappointed, says Kant.

He's a philosopher. explains Sweezus.

A famous one? asks the server.

Not so much nowadays, says Kant.

Yeah, he is, says Sweezus. He's Immanuel Kant. Bet you've heard of him.

She hasn't. 

But he's famous, so she asks for a selfie.

Two Curly Ones

It should not be my decision, says Kant.

Obviously, says Gaius. But you must have an opinion.

I do have an opinion, says Kant. 

So do I, says Terence.

And what is your opinion? asks Kant.

She asked me if I wanted ice cream, says Terence. 

For the pineapple, says Sweezus. Which you were minding for him.

I can't eat the pineapple, says Terence. I'm not allowed to.

It is certainly a curly one, says Gaius.

I'm quite prepared to forego the ice cream, says Kant.

We could share it, says Terence.

Well said, Terence, says Gaius.

Indeed, says Kant. A good example of the use of the categorical imperative.

Is that one of your inventions? asks Sweezus.

It is, says Kant. One should act in a manner that one would want everyone else to act in, in similar circumstances, regardless of the outcome.

I guess that's what Terence did, says Sweezus. 

What did I do? asks Terence.

You said you'd share it, says Sweezus. Which is what everyone else at this table would have suggested.

What? says Terence.

It means you did the right thing, says Sweezus.

The server comes back with a dish of vanilla icecream drizzled with strawberry topping, and a spoon.

She places it on the table, in front of Terence.

I didn't know if you wanted the pineapple separate, says the server.

Terence doesn't want to ruin his current excellent reputation.

What would everyone else at the table suggest?

Pineapple mixed in? Pineapple separate?

Sweezus looks preoccupied. He's trying to get his head round the categorical imperative. No help there. 

Arthur is picking his teeth, between two of which is lodged a stringy fragment of oyster.

Gaius is looking encouraging. But what does that mean?

Kant seems to be waiting for Terence to give an answer.

Which is not really fair.

Seeing the pineapple was his in the first place.

Categorical Imperative

Top schnitty, says Sweezus.

Mine too, says Gaius. Oysters go well with crumbed beef. Don't you agree Arthur?

But Arthur hasn't started his schnitty. 

He is watching Kant pick the pineapple chunks off his Hawaiian.

And laying them out on the rim of his plate.

Don't you like the pineapple? asks Arthur.

I might eat it later, says Kant. If I order ice cream.

Good thinking, says Arthur. And if you don't, you can still eat the pineapple.

Yeah, says Sweezus. But don't leave it there on the plate. They might take it away.

What's this? asks Gaius.

He wants to eat the pineapple later, says Sweezus. I was just saying, don't leave it there on the plate.

Where else can I leave it? asks Kant.

Give it to me, says Terence. 

What will you do with it? asks Gaius.

Have it on my plate, says Terence. 

That is a  good idea, says Kant. 

He scrapes the pineapple chunks onto Terence's plate.

And starts eating his pineapple-free schnitty.

Arthur starts his Kilpatrick.

Everything all right? asks a passing server.

Awesome, says Sweezus. 

The server looks at Terence's plate.

Don't you like your pineapple? asks the server.

I'm watching it, says Terence. Don't take it away.

Would you like some ice cream with it? asks the server.

Yes! says Terence. Can it be red?

No, we don't do red ice cream, says the server, but we do have strawberry topping. And if you stir it for long enough, what do you think will happen?

It'll melt, says Terence.

And turn red, says the server. 

More like pink, says Gaius.

Okay more like pink, says the server. Well, what do you say?

Yes please, says Terence.

The server picks up Terence's plate and takes it away.

That wasn't meant to happen, says Terence.

She'll bring it back, says Sweezus. With ice cream and strawberry topping.

I hope you like strawberry topping, says Gaius, to Kant.

Hey! says Terence. That strawberry topping should be mine.

It will be difficult to separate from the ice cream, says Gaius.

I can eat both, says Terence. 

But Kant wanted the ice cream for his pineapple, says Gaius. Let's see what he thinks about this.

About what? asks Kant, swallowing the last tasty morsel of his schnitty, and wiping his mouth.

An ethical judgement, says Gaius. Whose ice cream will it be?

Kant considers. 

Should he bring up the idea of the categorical imperative?