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.