Shark On a Bus

Sweezus and Arthur are talking to the kiosk guy.

Yeah, we've got a spade somewhere, says the kiosk guy. You guys bogged?

Beached shark, says Sweezus. A spade might speed things up a bit.

Yeah, says the kiosk guy. Dig a channel and slide him back in. Watch out though, he might turn vicious.

He goes out the back to look for the spade.

Kant appears in the doorway.

A quick word, says Kant.

What's up? asks Arthur.

The shark wants a new photo, says Kant. 

As if that'll help, says Sweezus.

It won't, says Kant. Not if the message is 'Sharks are Friendly'. 

That's what he asked for, says Arthur. 

Yeah, but we never got round to actually getting it on the back of a bus, says Sweezus. 

Great White Teacher doesn't know that, says Arthur.

I though he'd seen proof, says Kant.

Speedy saw it, says Sweezus, but it was a photoshopped photo.

A good one, says Arthur.

What is photoshopped? asks Kant.

One photo pasted onto another, says Sweezus.  Shark photo and back of bus photo. Bingo! Looks like the shark photo is on an actual bus.

So you fooled him, says Kant.

You could say that, says Sweezus.

What does he want in the new photo? asks Arthur.

I came to warn you, says Kant. A photo of him about to bite someone's leg.

Won't be my leg, says Sweezus. 

Or mine, says Arthur.

The kiosk guy comes back with a spade.

Thanks, says Sweezus.

Suggestion, says the kiosk guy. Put a sack on his head till he's back in the water.

Won't that detract from the photo? asks Kant. Or render it pointless?

It'd embarrass him, says Sweezus. 

Not really, says Arthur. No one would know who he was.

But the idea of embarrassing Great White Teacher is a good one. 

So they won't need a sack.

A Dangerous Development

Go ahead. Take your walk, says Great White Teacher. Don't mind me.

It's an unbreakable habit, says Kant. A walk, every day, at half past three.

Even if it's raining? asks Faith.

My man follows me with an umbrella, says Kant. 

Ha ha, laughs Terence.

What's so funny? asks Kant.

He's got the umbrella, says Terence. That means you haven't.

Not at all, says Kant. If it starts raining he hands me the umbrella.

Then he gets wet, says Great White Teacher.

But he can go home, says Kant. And I can keep walking.

Off you go then, says Faith. We'll hold the fort here.

I'll keep an eye on the tide, says Kant.

If only I could do that, says Great White Teacher.

It's coming in quite fast, says Gaius.

Whoosh, so it is. 

Great White Teacher is in shallow water, momentarily.

The shallow water withdraws. Shweerp.....bubble bubble.

What's that bubble bubble? asks Great White Teacher.

Algal froth, says Gaius.

Horrible stuff, says Great White Teacher. Can't you clear it away?

We expect it to disperse now the weather has turned colder, says Gaius.

Yes we do, says Faith. I work for SARDI.

SARDI? says Great White Teacher. 

It means she's a sardine, says Terence.

I know a sardine when I see one, says Great White Teacher. Now what was I saying before this fellow decided to go for a walk?

About 'Sharks Are Friendly' not working, says Faith.

Yes! says Great White Teacher. I was complaining.

With good reason, says Faith. No one thinks sharks are friendly. But we do think you have a right to be who you are.

So, a different photo? says Great White Teacher. One where I'm taking a bite out of someone's leg?

About to take a bite, says Faith. Just for the photo.

Worth thinking about, says Great White Teacher. Where is Sweezus?

He and Arthur went up to ask at the kiosk for a spade, says Gaius.

I'll walk up to meet them, says Kant.

It might be wise to let them know of this dangerous development.

To Keep Him High Rated

Terence keeps sponging.

He is up to Great White Teacher's head.

Continue, says Great White Teacher.

I am, says Terence. Keep your mouth shut.

Mm-mm, says Great White Teacher. 

A wave breaks and washes towards them.

Is the tide turning? asks Kant. 

I believe so, says Gaius. 

He's coming! says Faith.

Who? asks Great White Teacher.

Terence whips the wet hankie away from his teeth, just in time.

Finished! says Terence.

You're supposed to keep doing it, says Faith.

You do it, says Terence, giving her the wet hankie.

This handkerchief could do with more water, says Faith.

She walks into the shallows and dips it into the sea.

Sweezus body-surfs towards her

Hey! says Sweezus. What's been happening?

A Great White beached itself, says Faith. We have no idea why. Terence has been sponging it to keep it hydrated. 

Good for him, says Sweezus. 

He grabs his board, and they walk back together.

Great White Teacher's got issues, says Arthur. He's been waiting for you.

Not like he's got much choice, says Sweezus.

Waiting for you before raising the issues, says Great White Teacher. How about standing where I can see you.

Sweezus moves to a spot beside Terence.

I was sponging him, says Terence. To keep him high rated.

Hydrated, says Gaius.

Now SHE'S going to do it, says Great White Teacher.

Faith steps forward with Kant's dripping hankie.

I might wait till you've finished speaking, says Faith.

Do his tail again, says Terence. 

Faith starts sponging the tail.

Okay, says Sweezus. Is this about 'Sharks Are Friendly'?

It is, says Great White Teacher. I have reason the believe we were dudded.

Yeah? says Sweezus. We showed your mate Speedy the photo. You and him with tiny fish swimming out of your mouths. Remember that, Arthur?

Yes, says Arthur. It was on the backs of the buses. You couldn't go anywhere without seeing it. 

It doesn't seem to have worked, says Great White Teacher.

Yeah it worked, says Sweezus. 

No one I came into contact with seemed to think I was friendly, says Great White Teacher.

May I ask why you wanted people to think you were friendly? asks Faith.

She is sponging his belly. She is close to the purple spot where Terence kicked him.

No! roars Great White Teacher.

Okay, sorry, says Faith.

The next wave rolls in, and froths softly round Great White Teacher, and everyone's feet.

What time is it? asks Kant.

Half past three, says Gaius.

Time for my afternoon walk, says Kant. 

Oh great! says Great White Teacher.

I suppose I could delay it, says Kant.

By Way Of A What?

Terence kicks Great White Teacher.

Then regrets it.

What if Sweezus is in inside?

Ow! says Great White Teacher. You little fucker!

Terence! says Gaius. That is no way to assist a beached shark.

What is he made of? Cement? snarls Great White Teacher.

Yes, says Gaius. And I can't think why he would have done that. 

He ate Sweezus! wails Terence.

I did not, says Great White Teacher.

From the corner of one eye, he spots Arthur.

This person knows it, says Great White Teacher.

What? asks Arthur.

That I didn't eat your friend Sweezus, says Great White Teacher.

No, you didn't, says Arthur. He's still out there. 

Everyone looks out to sea, except Great White Teacher, who is facing the opposite way.

There is Sweezus, out there, bobbing.

Now that's cleared up, says Gaius, may we assist you back into your natural medium.

If you would, says Great White Teacher.

I know what to do, says Faith. First we sponge him.

Sponge me? says Great White Teacher. 

To keep you hydrated, says Faith.

That might be quite nice, says Great White Teacher.

Perhaps Terence would like to do it, says Faith. By way of apology.

By way of a what? asks Terence.

I'll lend you my handkerchief, says Kant. Dip it in the sea, but don't squeeze it.

Yippee! Terence is allowed in the sea!

 He takes the hankie and dips it in the water, then he brings it back, sodden.

Now wipe him gently, says Faith, while we work out how to turn him.

Terence looks at Great White Teacher, who is smiling.

Or is he?

Terence starts at the safe end, the tail.

If we had a rope, says Faith, we could easily do it.

We may not need to do anything, but wait for the tide to come in, says Gaius.

I'm all for that, says Great White Teacher. I have a few issues to discuss, in the meantime.

Excellent, says Gaius. Tell us their nature.

When Sweezus appears, says Great White Teacher.

Is this about that promotional photo? asks Arthur.

Yes, says Great White Teacher.

Terence keeps sponging. He is up to Great White Teacher's white belly.

There is the spot that he kicked. 

It looks purple.

He wisely avoids it.

There He Died Happily

I don't suppose you could repeat your lovely poem, says Faith.

Terence thinks back.

How had it started?

Two snails have died, says Kant.

That's it, says Terence. 

And they're not going anywhere, says Kant.

Yes, says Terence. 

As the poem is being reconstructed, let's check on Sweezus and Arthur.

They have spotted a second large wave.

Almost as big as the one Arthur missed, when reciting The Death Box.

They continue to look at the wave.

It is building and building.

A face appears in it, grinning.

Shit! says Sweezus. Great White Teacher!

Let's paddle out of his way, says Arthur. 

Yeah, says Sweezus. Good plan. He might not've seen us.

They paddle to a less ideal position.

The face turns towards them, showing its teeth.

He spotted us, says Sweezus. We should let this wave go.

But Arthur doesn't think so. He missed that one earlier. He's not going to miss this one as well.

Sweezus rises and falls on the swell, but doesn't move forward.

Arthur does.

He surfs in, alongside Great White Teacher.

Great White Teacher makes a slight change of course.

A collision is imminent.

Arthur flips his board, avoiding the collision.

Great White Teacher is now heading straight for the shore.

He gnashes his teeth. None of this was intended to happen.

Scruuuurch! He skids onto the sand, not far from where Kant is saying 'and there he died happily'.

Faith sees him first.

Holy moley! says Faith. A Great White's just beached itself!

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. We must try to assist him!

They run towards Great White Teacher, who is trying to reverse.

Arthur comes up with his board, shaking drops from his hair.

Terence expects to see Sweezus soon after.

But Sweezus is not there.

The horrid white shark must have eaten him.

Wah!

The Bee-loved

I will, says Terence.

Will what? asks Gaius.

Make a poem out of it, says Terence. Two snails have died....

All Terence's poems start off like that, says Gaius.

That's sweet, says Faith.

I assume they finish differently, says Kant.

YES! says Terence 

Two snails have died, they're not going anywhere, the Twitcher ate them on the way to Dubai, continues Terence.

That's quite good so far, says Gaius. Died rhymes with Dubai.

No it doesn't, says Kant.

It's not supposed to, says Terence. And my poem's not finished.

Go on then, says Gaius.

What happened next? asks Terence.

We had to lend him to the Dubai Aquarium for a week, says Gaius, and that's where he met ...

His BEE-loved, says Terence. Okay.

O lay, o lay, the Twitcher was sad, he didn't know he had done something bad, and then he got put in a quarium, says Terence.

An aquarium, says Kant.

Stop interfering, says Faith. A quarium. I love it.

Apologies, says Kant.

Then what? asks Terence.

Then he meets the bee-loved, says Faith.

That's good, says Terence. Then he meets the bee-loved, a meditranian.... wait,  wasn't there two of them?

Yes, but he only became enamoured of one, says Gaius.

The glimmering orange one, says Faith.

I'm doing this poem! says Terence.

Carry on, says Gaius. 

Two meditranians, says Terence. One was not beautiful, and one was. She was orange.

They were probably both orange, says Kant.

Faith frowns at Kant.

And he loved the most beautiful, says Terence, but she was going to Kas.

Actually I don't thinks she was, says Gaius. Only he was. But in Kas, he had another beloved, whom he had seen in photographs. She was superbly orange and glimmering, in effect, his ideal.

This is stupid, says Terence.

No it isn't, says Gaius. You've nearly finished.

When does he die? asks Terence.

No one knows exactly, says Gaius.

And he loved the most beautiful, says Terence, but she wasn't going to Kas, she cried when he went, but he said o lay o lay I am going to Kas, to meet a bee-loved even more beautiful and there... I will happily die.

Bravo Terence! says Faith. 

Well done! says Gaius.

Even Kant has to admit that the ending is moving. 

Out Of The Death Box

Do you remember your poem? asks Faith.

The Death Box, says Arthur.

Say it, says Faith.

Arthur would prefer not to, for two reasons, 

One, he is missing a gigantic wave, which he can see coming.

Two, Gaius and Terence are approaching.

Go on, says Faith. For my collection.

Arthur relents.

A terrible scent and dark swirling water, luminescent flashes subsiding, final drops fall to the sea, just one flaccid cuttlefish remains in the stolen death box.

Ripper! says Faith. Would you mind repeating it. I'd like to record it.

Arthur looks out at the wave, which is building up nicely, with Sweezus in a perfect postion.

He recites the Death Box again, very quickly.

He is just gabbling 'one flaccid cuttlefish remains in the stolen death box', when Gaius arrives.

Ah, says Gaius. Memories. The death box. That was the Twitcher.

So it was a real cuttlefish, says Faith.

It was, says Gaius. We took it to Kas.

Did I go? asks Terence.

No you didn't go, says Gaius. I went. Katherine went. Arthur went. And Ageless Lobster.

Where was it going? asks Terence.

To meet it's orange beloved, says Faith. I assume these cuttlefish poems are connected.

Who was it? asks Terence.

A Turkish cuttlefish, female, says Gaius.

Why didn't I go? asks Terence. 

It was years ago, says Gaius. I don't remember. But I do remember I had to submit a report.

Arthur watches Sweezus surf in on the biggest wave of the morning.

Gliding in gracefully.

Sweezus sploshes towards them, in the shallows.

There was trouble with snails, says Gaius. 

Hey bro, says Sweezus. See that awesome biggie?

Yes, says Arthur. I missed it.

Too bad, says Sweezus. There won't be another one like that this morning, I reckon.

There might be, says Arthur.

Yeah sure, there might be, says Sweezus. Coming?

Of course Arthur's coming.

They both head back into the sea.

Well, says Faith. What was that about snails?

They were on the plane to Dubai, says Gaius. 

Snails were? says Faith.

Destined for the Dubai Aquarium, says Gaius. Two were inadvertently let loose by Dr Moussalli, and our Twitcher ate them, leaving Dr Moussalli short of two snails, to make up for which we agreed to loan the Twitcher to the Dubai Aquarium for one week, during which time he was placed in an aquarium occupied by two female Mediterranean cuttlefish.

Where he fell in love, says Faith. You could make a poem of that story.

Highly unlikely, says Gaius.

The Dead Fish Laden Sea

Actually, says Sweezus, Pablo's an old friend.

Our favourite poets can seem like old friends, says Faith. 

Yeah, but I mean we know him, says Sweezus. He used to ride in our team.

A cycling team? asks Faith.

Yep, says Sweezus. Team Condor. It was Pablo who named it.

I'm not sure I believe you, says Faith. 

He's a diplomat now, says Sweezus. But we used to have competitions.

Poetry competitions, says Arthur.

And who won? asks Faith.

Can't remember, says Sweezus. 

Pablo won the cuttlefish poem competition, says Arthur. 

Yeah he did, says Sweezus. But I only remember mine.

Tell me, says Faith. You know I collect fish poems.

Okay says Sweezus. It was called In Memory Of A Dead Cuttlefish:

Blue green blood ran through his three hearts,

All of them broken. I asked for his name.

He was the Twitcher, we took him to Kas

da da da .. yeah, forgotten the rest.

Something about his orange beloved who wasn't aware he was coming, says Arthur. She was glimmerng under the sea.

That's so gorgeous, says Faith. 

Thanks, says Sweezus. I did a course in creative writing.

I wish you remembered Pablo's, says Faith. If he won, it must have been even better than yours.

Yeah well, he was inspired by the Marilyn Monroe Charity Swim, says Sweezus.

He fell in love with a Marilyn, says Arthur. And he worked her into his poem. Not for you or I, Marilyn, the way of the cuttlefish, I have not the specialised tentacles to insert sperm sacs into an opening near to your mouth, nor the patience....  

You've got a good memory. Yeah stuff like that, says Sweezus. 

Ending in a description of her in a sequined swimsuit, says Arthur. Her golden hair flowing. And how he desired a maritime connection. With her.

Faith is entranced. That sounds like the sort of thing Pablo would write. Could she add it to her collection? 

Have you got a copy of the original? asks Faith.

Dunno, says Sweezus. I could look. But my phone's in the car.

I'll come up with you, says Faith.

I'm not going up yet, says Sweezus. I'm going back in. Might catch you later.

He heads back to the dead fish laden sea.

The Net Of Our Kisses

 Yes he is, says Kant. How did you know?

Just a guess, says Faith. It was because he asked what does it matter.

Well? says Arthur.

It probably doesn't matter that much, says Faith. My SARDI colleagues will take multiple depth measurements.

Then we don't need this thermometer, says Arthur.

Give it to me, says Kant. 

Arthur hands Kant the thermometer.

So you're a poet, says Faith. I've been telling Mr Kant how much I like poetry. 

Really? says Sweezus, because Arthur, who should have said Really has not said Really.

Yes, says Faith. In fact, I collect poems about fish.

How very interesting, says Kant. I wonder if Schiller ever mentioned fish in his poems?

I don't know any poems about fish, says Sweezus. Except for that kids' one.

You shall have a fishy in a little dishy, says Faith. When the boo-at comes in.

What is a boo-at? asks Kant.

A boat, says Faith. That's just how they used to pronounce it.

Arthur wrote a poem about a boo-at, says Sweezus, nudging Arthur.

The Drunken Boo-at, says Arthur. 

It wouldn't've been a boo-at in French, says Sweezus. 

It was a bateau, says Arthur. A Drunken Bateau.

I don't think I know it, says Faith. Were there fish in it?

Yes, says Arthur, eternal rollers, unknown saps, hysterical cows, giant serpents devoured by bedbugs and fish of gold.

Eating the serpents? asks Faith.

No, that was from a separate stanza, says Arthur.

Tell me that one, says Faith.

Arthur tries to recall it.

He was drunk when he wrote it, and it seems like a long  time ago.

But it's still recollectable, a good thing about poems.

I should have liked to show children those sunfish of the blue wave, the fish of gold, the singing fish, foam of flowers, says Arthur.

That's beautiful, says Faith. I shall add it to my collection.

I don't suppose you know the poems of Pablo Neruda, says Faith.

Fish ones? says Sweezus.

You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with his golden feet, says Faith. I reply the ocean knows this.

Did he write that? says Sweezus.

Yes, and this, says Faith:

We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, and lay like fish under the net of our kisses.

That is a nice image, says Kant. 

He wonders if Faith is unmarried.

Only These Slits

Roo-kai has been hovering.

He sees Arthur and Sweezus surf in, with a shark close behind them.

He makes a 'shark danger' gesture, with his wing.

What's Roo-kai signalling? asks Sweezus.

Runny nose, says Arthur.

Runny bill, says Sweezus.

Nostrils, says Arthur.

Does he even have them? asks Sweezus.

Never looked, says Arthur.

We should ask him, says Sweezus. 

He gestures Roo-kai to come down.

Roo-kai lands in the shallows.

You okay? asks Sweezus. 

Yes I am, says Roo-kai. Did you see my signal?

That's why we're asking, says Sweezus. We thought you might have algal bloom symptoms.

This, says Roo-kai, is the signal for dangerous sharks.

He repeats the shark-danger gesture.

It does look like it could be construed as a warning.

Arthur thought you might have a runny nose, says Sweezus.

Imagination, says Roo-kai.

Arthur looks at Roo-kai's bill. What are those slits for?

He is going to ask, but Sweezus continues: Was it Shorty?

Could have been, says Roo-kai. They all look alike from the air. By the way, we oystercatchers do not get runny noses.

Do you have nostrils? asks Arthur.

Only these slits, says Roo-kai. 

Do you breathe through them? asks Arthur.

Never thought about it, says Roo-kai. 

Breathe, says Arthur.

I'm always breathing, says Roo-kai. 

He is getting annoyed now.

He is about to fly off when Kant and Faith come up from behind, intending to ask Sweezus and Arthur a question.

That reading, says Kant. At what depth was it taken?

Does it matter? asks Arthur. 

I bet you're the poet, says Faith. 

Streaking Sideways

Gaius decides to go on with the lesson.

He draws a small 1 above the second to last zero.

Now it's a ten, says Gaius. One zero.

How did you do it? asks Terence.

I borrowed ten, says Gaius. So I must now give it back.

He draws a small one under the third to last zero.

There. You can see I haven't cheated, says Gaius.

Just added two ones, says Terence.

Not exactly, says Gaius. But now what are we faced with?

What? asks Terence.

Ten take one, says Gaius. And we can do that easily. What is it?

Terence looks as though he can't see why it matters.

Nine, says Gaius. Now we borrow again.

Let us leave them to their lesson and see what Kant and Faith from SARDI are doing.

They are not finding dead pipis. Faith has already got ten.

They are talking.

I notice your trousers are dry, says Faith. Who gave you that sea temperature reading? 

One of those young men out there, says Kant, pointing to Sweezus and Arthur who are bobbing about in a quiet patch of sea.

So they have a thermometer? asks Faith.

They do, says Kant. 

Are they ecologists? asks Faith.

Oh no, says Kant. One is a poet and ....

A poet? says Faith. I do like poetry. What sort does he write?

To be honest I only know of one example, says Kant. It was about the cheese in a cheese toastie.

Oh, says Faith. Modern.  

I imagine so, says Kant. I prefer the German poets, such as Schiller. Arthur is French

Faith gazes out at the two surfers.

They are standing up now, streaking sideways, under the curl of a wave. 

She wonders which one is the poet.

And the other one? asks Faith.

He is a journalist, says Kant. But perhaps I don't do him justice. He also rides bikes at some sort of high level. But then so does the other one. And of course let me not forget about Gaius. The one you met back there giving a lesson in subtraction to that careless young infant. Would you credit that the infant was once in charge of the thermometer? Inevitably he misplaced it..... 

He stops talking, having gone on a bit. 

He would not like her to think him a garrulous snitch.

 

Because She's A Sardine

Sixteen, says Kant. 

Degrees? asks Gaius.

Yes I assume so, says Kant. See here, I've written it down.

The person in the orange jumpsuit looks at the number.

At what depth? asks the person.

I don't have that information, says Kant. 

This is Faith, says Gaius. She is from SARDI.

Because she's a sardine, mutters Terence.

SARDI is the research arm of PIRSA, says Faith. I'm here to collect a few samples for autopsy purposes.

Ten, says Terence. Which I took off aready.

In an incorrect manner, says Gaius. You had one thousand and you wiped off a zero. That left one hundred.

Probably more, says Terence.

Indeed, says Gaius. Watch me. This is what you should have done.

He picks up a stick. 

He writes 1000 in the sand with the stick.

Then he writes 10 below the last two zeroes.

Now let's see what happens when we subtract ten from one thousand, says Gaius. Zero take zero is what?

Before you go any further, says Faith, I should point out that you don't need to subtract ten.

I realise that, says Gaius. The ten pipis are still part of the count, regardless of the fact that they're going to be autopsied.

Just so we agree on that, says Faith.

We do, says Gaius. But Terence can still learn this lesson.

I see, says Faith. Then I'll leave you to it. 

She picks up a dead pipi, and drops it into a bag.

May I assist you? asks Kant.

That's good of you, says Faith. 

They walk off together.

Now what? asks Terence.

What is zero take zero? asks Gaius.

That's stupid, says Terence. No one takes zero from zero.

Visualise it, says Gaius. You do not have an apple. So how many apples do you have?

None, says Terence. But can it be a pipi?

All right, says Gaius. You do not have a pipi. How many pipis do you have?

None, says Terence. That's easy. And I know where it went. The sardine lady took it.

She was not a sardine lady, says Gaius. But the idea is amusing.

Yes, says Terence. The orange sardine lady.

That will do, says Gaius. 

He points to the second to last zero and the 1 that is sitting below it.

Now, here we have no pipis. How can we take one away?

Ha ha, laughs Terence, scuffing the 1 with his foot.

Gaius wonders if it's worth going on with the lesson. 

Upside Of Death And Dying

Arthur and Sweezus wait for a big wave.

Thermometer, says Sweezus.

Now? says Arthur. 

Something to do while we're waiting, says Sweezus.

Arthur dips the thermometer into the water.

Sweezus signals to Roo-kai, who flies over.

Do you have a reading? asks Roo-kai.

Arthur's getting it, says Sweezus.

There's a big wave behind you, says Roo-kai.

Yeah thanks, says Sweezus, getting ready.

Arthur lifts the thermometeter out of the water.

Sixteen, says Arthur.

Let me check that, says Roo-kai.

Arthur shows him the reading. 

Roo-kai squints. 

Right, says Roo-kai. I'll let Kant know.

Has Arthur missed the big wave?

No. He lives a charmed life, remember.

Nor has Sweezus missed it. 

But hey...

What is this shooting through the wave alongside him?

It sticks up its head.

Fuck. Its Shorty.

Having a good day? enquires Shorty.

So so, says Sweezus. I guess you know what's been happening.

We do, says Shorty. Great White Teacher's not pleased.

So how come you're here? asks Sweezus. Thought you guys all went to Mexico?

Didn't work out, says Shorty. By the way...

The wave crashes over and Sweezus is knocked off his board.

Arthur washes up beside him.

You look rattled, says Arthur.

Just saw Shorty, says Sweezus. Great White Teacher's come back.

They won't stay long, says Arthur. Not in this froth.

Yeah I guess that's the upside, says Sweezus.

Of death and dying, says Arthur. Did he know about that shark that washed up at Henley?

Didn't say, says Sweezus.

They turn and paddle out in hopes of catching the next wave.

Roo-kai lands on the sand beside Kant.

Sixteen, says Roo-kai.

Kant writes sixteen on his notepad.

He supposes this single reading will suffice.

He walks back to where Gaius is speaking to someone in an orange jumpsuit.

And Terence is looking dejected.

It seems he did an improper subtraction.

If Subtractions Were Simple

I'm an oystercatcher, says Roo-kai.

I appreciate that, says Kant. But why take a job as a parrot?

Ask Terence, says Roo-kai. No, on second thoughts don't ask Terence.

My question still stands, says Kant.

Terence trusts parrots, says Roo-kai. It's to do with his origins. There must be wise parrots in Barcelona.

Barcelona? says Kant.

He fell off the Sagrada Famiglia, says Roo-kai. He was part of the decor. Along with the Virgin and Saint Joseph and presumably various parrots.

Wouldn't they have been doves? asks Kant.

You would have to ask them, says Roo-kai. Anyway Terence asked me to be his parrot.

You play a role, says Kant. I understand that. A transcendental ideal.

Kind of you to say so, says Roo-kai. But what is that exactly?

A presupposition, says Kant. 

Not two bicycles behind a kiosk? asks Roo-kai.

I wouldn't say so, says Kant.

I thought not, says Roo-kai.

It has been a good lesson in Kantian thought, but now it's time to get back to collecting data.

Sweezus and Arthur have paddled out with their body boards and the thermometer.

Roo-kai flies out to where they are.

Kant stands ready, with a notepad, on the sand.

Gaius is walking up the beach counting dead pipis.

Terence is trailing behind him.

I can't do ANYTHING, says Terence.

Can you remember the number of dead pipis that Roo-kai had counted? asks Gaius.

A thousand, says Terence.

Gaius is sure it was more, but one thousand is an easy number for Terence to start with.

Write one thousand in the sand, says Gaius. 

What does it look like? asks Terence.

One and three zeroes, says Gaius. One-o-o-o.

Okay, says Terence. Then what?

We'll start counting from there, says Gaius. If need be, we'll do an adjustment.

Terence finds a stick and starts writing. 

o o o

A person in an orange jumpsuit comes down from the carpark and looks at the sea. 

And the seaweed and froth. 

And the dead creatures.

And Terence, writing o o o in the sand with a stick.

Terence looks up.

This is how many dead pipis my parrot counted, says Terence, 

Good job, says the orange jumpsuit. But don't you need a number in front of the zeroes?

Not till we've finished, says Terence.

I'm here to collect a few, for autopsies, says the orange jumpsuit. 

How many? asks Terence.

Ten should do it, says the jumpsuit.

Terence rubs out an o with his stick.

If only subtraction was always that simple.

Being A Parrot

It's good that you're back, Roo-kai, says Gaius.

I tried to come earlier, says Roo-kai. 

You should have, says Terence. Guess what happened?

What happened? asks Roo-kai.

I got a horse ride, says Terence. Last night.

It was a clothes horse, says Gaius. 

I had perfect balance, says Terence.

Long may you have it, says Roo-kai.

Indeed, says Gaius. I wonder what's holding up the others?

I'll fly up and get the long view, says Roo-kai.

He flies upwards and sees a car approaching.

It stops in the car park.

Three people get out.

One is holding a towel. 

That one looks like Arthur.

Roo-kai flies down. 

They're coming, says Roo-kai. And they've got something wrapped in a towel.

Maybe it's the thermometer, says Terence.

Unlikely, says Gaius. Are you sure it's a towel? I suggested to Sweezus that he might buy a jumper.

Has Gaius forgotten that he asked for a toastie?

Sweezus, Kant and Arthur make their way down to the beach.

What's in the towel? asks Terence. 

Arthur unwraps it.

A double-wrapped cheese toastie, says Sweezus. 

Gaius remembers he asked for a toastie.

And later regretted asking, since by the time he got it, it would have gone cold.

But what an example of thoughtfulness on the part of his colleagues.

The toastie has stayed warm.

Perhaps a little soggy.

Thank you, says Gaius. How much do I owe you?

My treat, says Sweezus. Hey, how about this weather?

Yes, it's improving, says Gaius. We should get to work.

I have the thermometer, says Kant.

What if Arthur and me go out on our boards and measure the sea temperature out there? says Sweezus.

There's an idea, says Gaius.

They just want to go surfing, says Terence.

As if, says Sweezus. If we did we wouldn't take a thermometer.

And that's why there needs to be two of us, says Arthur.

Yeah, says Sweezus. 

Very well, says Gaius. Do you have some means of recording the data?

We'll surf in every so often to tell you, says Sweezus.

I could stand at the ready, with a notepad and pencil, says Kant

I'm here, says Roo-kai. I could fly back and forth with the data.

And you are? asks Kant. 

Roo-kai, says Roo-kai.

I was led to believe you were a parrot, says Kant.

That's only his JOB, says Terence.

The Idea Of A Jumper

Let's get going, says Sweezus.

He has finished his cider and toastie.

Okay, says Arthur. Let's go.

Should we take Gaius a little something? asks Kant.

Shit yeah, says Sweezus. I forgot! He asked me to bring him a toastie.

Won't it be cold by the time he gets it? asks Kant.

I'll ask them to double wrap it, says Sweezus.

He goes back to the counter, and orders a cheese toastie, double-wrapped.

No worries, says the counter person. One cheese toastie double-wrapped, coming up.

She keys in the order. 

Cool, says Sweezus.

You going down to the beach? asks the counter person.

Yeah, says Sweezus. We all are. The toastie's for a friend who's down there already.

Volunteers, are you? asks the counter person

I guess so, says Sweezus. 

Good for you, says the counter person. I was thinking of volunteering myself. I love doing citizen science.

Yeah, who doesn't, says Sweezus.

Although he actually doesn't.

The double-wrapped cheese toastie is brought out from the kitchen.

Sweezus pays. And carries it back to where Kant and Arthur are getting up from their table.

Who's going to carry it? asks Sweezus.

I will, says Kant. I'll keep it inside my jacket. 

They go out to the car.

You got the thermometer? asks Sweezus.

I don't know. Have I? says Kant.

He feels in his pockets.

The double-wrapped cheese toastie falls to the ground.

Oops! says Kant. I thought it was wedged much more tightly.

Arthur picks up the double-wrapped toastie and gets into the car.

Wasn't there a towel on the back seat?

Yes there it is. 

He wraps it round the double-wrapped toastie.

Kant has found the thermometer.

He also gets into the car.

And finally Sweezus.

Sweezus feels good, because he has remembered everything. The toastie, the thermometer....

And thought about (and rejected) the idea of a jumper.

He looks at the sky, which is clearing.

Yeah. Good decision.

And now for some citizen science.

Or actually....these are good conditions for surfing as well.

Undesirable Beauty

Of course Arthur has not been writing it down.

Never mind, says Kant. I'd only just started.

So what was the topic again? asks Sweezus.

Go and order a drink and a toastie, says Kant. I'll wait for you to come back.

Sweezus goes to the counter to order a glass of cider and a cheese toastie.

He comes back and sits down.

I was explaining the judgement of beauty as a basic dichotomy, says Kant. 

Okay, says Sweezus. Go ahead.

Arthur smirks behind the crust of his toastie.

On the one hand, says Kant, our judgements are based on a feeling.

Like what? asks Sweezus. 

This much should be obvious, says Kant. Take a beautiful woman. 

Nice, and what's on the other hand? asks Sweezus.

Shit! He should be writing this down.

Or at least recording it. He takes out his phone.

On the other hand, judgements of beauty are not like judgements of the agreeable, says Kant.

How come? asks Sweezus. 

Insofar as they do not involve desire for the object, says Kant.

That explains my cheese poem, says Arthur.

Yeah, what cheese poem? asks Sweezus.

Cheese extends in rubber sinews, with each cruel bite, says Arthur.

That's good, says Sweezus. Kind of. But it's put me off eating my toastie.

Told you that explained it, says Arthur.  

Sweezus's cider and toastie arrive.

Eat, says Kant. Don't think too hard about my philosophy. My ideas on aesthetics are perhaps not my best ones.

Probably made more sense at the time, says Sweezus. 

Good of you to say so, says Kant.

Where do you reckon I could buy a jumper in Goolwa? asks Sweezus, biting into his toastie.

Jumper? says Arthur.

Gaius reckons I should buy myself a jumper, says Sweezus.

Google a surf shop, says Arthur. 

The weather may be changing, says Kant. The clouds are breaking up.

Yeah maybe I won't need a jumper, says Sweezus. 

I suppose we should be getting back to the beach to help Gaius, says Kant.

By the way, Roo-kai's back, says Sweezus.

That's good, says Arthur.

Roo-kai? says Kant.

Terence's parrot, says Sweezus.

I'm fond of parrots, says Kant. They have beautiful feathers.

Beautiful. This sets Sweezus thinking about Kant's dichotomy. So the agreeable in Kant's view is desirable, and the beautiful is not. Has he got it wrong? Yeah, and he probably ought to tell Kant that Roo-kai's not an actual parrot. 

Each Cruel Bite

Arthur and Kant have ordered a third glass of local cider, and a third toastie.

This is better than counting dead fish on a beach, says Kant.

Yes it is, says Arthur.

But I feel somewhat guilty, says Kant.

No need to, says Arthur. Sweezus is coming to get us.

That's good, says Kant. 

I told him not to hurry, says Arthur.

Did you? And what was his reaction? asks Kant.

He said to ask you some questions, says Arthur. For the interview you and he are meant to be doing.

Fire away then, says Kant.

I'm not a philosopher, says Arthur.

I know. I believe you're a poet. says Kant. You may ask me questions about the nature of beauty.

Beauty isn't my thing, says Arthur. My poetry grows out of derangement. 

It could still result in something of beauty, says Kant. 

Arthur picks up his toastie and waves it in front of Kant.

Cheese extends in rubber sinews with each cruel bite, says Arthur. 

I'll eat it, if you don't like it, says Kant.

No, I like it, says Arthur. 

He takes a big bite. 

You have cheese on your chin, says Kant.

Arthur rolls the cheese into a ball with his finger, and eats it.

Perhaps you could ask me about my ideas on aesthetics, says Kant.

Just give me the main one, says Arthur.

Our basis of judgement forms a dichotomy, says Kant. On the one hand.....

Arthur thinks this is cheating.

Luckily, Sweezus arrives at this moment.

Hey! says Sweezus. You guys are in the best place. What are you drinking?

Cider, says Kant. And I was explaining...

Cool, says Sweezus. I'll get myself one. And those toasties look great.

Arthur has been giving me a lesson in poetry, says Kant. He came up with a line about the toastie. It was evocative, but lacked beauty, and from there we proceeded to my ideas on aesthetics.

Sweezus looks at Arthur.

Good one bro. You been writing it down?