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.