Goodbye Baby

Baby Pierre was sad the Tour de France was over. Not that he had been able to watch it. But he could hear the television from the next room.

What a shame Sweezus didn't win, he thought. Sweezus was my favourite rider.

The television was on the next night too. Baby Pierre was listening. The program was called QI. Stephen Fry was saying something about jellyfish. Baby Pierre's ears pricked up.

Why are my ears pricking up? said Baby Pierre. I don't have ears. But what is Stephen Fry saying?

Stephen Fry was saying that there was a jellyfish called The Immortal Jellyfish. He said it had the remarkable quality of becoming younger after it had reproduced.

Wow, said Baby Pierre. I wonder if Ageless Lobster knows about this?

He rolled to the middle of the window sill to say goodbye to Kobo.

Auntie Kobo, he said, I'm off on my travels again. This time I'm going on my own.

Why's that? asked Kobo.

Because Frog is dead, said Baby Piere sadly.

Frog, said Kobo, vaguely. Do you mean that tomato?

That tomato was my best friend Frog, said Baby Pierre. There will never be another like him.

How true, said Kobo. I hope you have a warm scarf.

I do, said Baby Pierre. Is that all you have to say?

Say hello to Ageless, said Kobo.

How did you know? asked Baby Pierre.

I listen to QI as well, said Kobo. Good bye, Baby Pierre.

Following Jesus

Jesus was sad. His favourite character had been killed off in a blog that he followed.

Poor Frog, thought Jesus. What a way to go. Then he brightened. Soon it would be Easter. Not that he liked Easter. But this year he had plans.

He had recently joined a book club where he had met Marie. Marie was co-editor of a cycling magazine, and she had invited him to join her on an Easter cycling tour, with her friend Belle et Bonne. They were planning to set off on Thursday.

I'd better call her, thought Jesus. I need to know what to bring.

Hi Marie, he said, when she answered.

What's up? said Marie. Hey, are you okay? You sound a bit flat.

Yeah, I'm okay, said Jesus. Just peed off about Frog.

Me too, said Marie. He was the best one in it. I loved him when he stuck up for himself at the science event. I carry within me the seeds of my own propagation. Classic!

Yeah, classic, said Jesus. Anyway, what do I have to bring on Thursday?

Just your bike, said Marie. And your helmet, and a warm jacket in case it turns cold.

And my Blackberry, said Jesus. I'll be tweeting our trip.

Oh will you? said Belle et Bonne. So you have a Twitter account?

Yep! It's pretty new.

What are you called? asked Marie

Don't laugh, said Jesus.

I won't, said Marie.

Sweezus, said Jesus.

Cool, said Marie. You got that from Baby Pierre. What do you tweet about, mainly?

Follow me and you'll see, said Jesus.

Squelch!

Ageless looked.

The first thing he saw was Kobo.

How beautiful she is, he whispered. What a curvaceous hinge. What creamy....

Never mind her! hissed Baby Pierre. Look on the other side of the flowers. There's a new Frog!

Ageless stirred himself from his reverie, and extended his gaze. There was indeed a new Frog, slightly bigger than the old Frog, and younger.

What's going on? called Frog faintly, from below.

Nothing, answered Baby Pierre.

He turned to Ageless.

Should we tell him?

No we shouldn't, said Ageless. It would break his little red heart. I'll deal with it. Well, I'm off now. Bye bye, Baby Pierre dear boy, come and see me in the Library, any time, except Easter when the Library will be closed.

So you're not coming in? said Baby Pierre.

No, said Ageless. And don't tell Kobo I was here.

As if, said Baby Pierre. Well I'll be seeing you. First I'd better go down and see Frog.

No, I told you I'd deal with it, said Ageless, jumping off the window ledge and landing with an ominous squelch.

Did you hurt yourself, Ageless? cried Baby Pierre.

No, said Ageless, I had quite a soft landing. And Frog's little problem is solved.

An Affecting Scene

It was late when they arrived home, but the lights were still on in the house.

Let's climb onto the window ledge, said Baby Pierre, and look through the window.

I can't get up there, said Frog. I'll wait down below.

So Ageless and Baby Pierre made their way up the wall, and on to the ledge and looked in through the window.

There's mummy! said Baby Pierre, pointing to Pierre in the corner. And there's the Manifest Stone.

That's your mummy? said Ageless. She has.... most unusual features.

Yes she has, said Baby Pierre. One of them is that she is bossy. Another is that she is religious. A third is that she is stupid.

I meant her appearance, said Ageless.

Don't be rude about my mummy! said Baby Pierre.

Sorry, said Ageless. The Manifest Stone looks .... less irregular.

The Manifest Stone is boring, said Baby Pierre. It never does anything. It just is.

Ah! said Ageless.

What do you mean, "Ah!"? said Baby Pierre. Don't tell me you are religious?

Well, said Ageless, I do tend to want to believe in something. I told your Aunt Kobo once that I believed in a Universal Creative Lobsterian Force...

Oh I remember, said Baby Pierre. She laughed so much she fell into the sink.

You mean that was TRUE? said Ageless, impressed.

Yes, it was true, said Baby Pierre. But she didn't get out of it by praying. Look, that's her over there! Near that pot. That pot wasn't there when I left. Nor were those white roses. And ....oh no! .....look!

Ageless looked.....

Temptation

The science event was over and Baby Pierre was taking Frog home. Ageless accompanied them to the bus stop. Frog looked up at the night sky.

Look, he said faintly, a red star. I shall soon be as tiny as that red star. I feel myself shrinking fast.

That red star up there is the Lobster's Armpit, said Ageless. Humans call it
Betelgeuse.

Ah! said Baby Pierre. That is one of the sights I wanted to see!

Well, there it is, said Ageless. What else did you want to see?

I wanted to see you, said Baby Pierre. I wanted to tell you that I didn't want you to be my daddy.

I am not your daddy, said Ageless.

But you wanted to be my daddy, said Baby Pierre.

No I didn't, I just made that up for Kobo, said Ageless, uncomfortably.

Oh, said Baby Pierre. I also wanted to see the Library. But it was closed.

It will be open again tomorrow, said Ageless. You don't have to go home.

Frog needs to go home, said Baby Pierre. But I'll go to the Library one day.

Meet me there, said Ageless. I'm there every day. Thinking up stories.

For Kobo? Baby Pierre's eyes widened.

Yes, for Kobo, said Ageless.

Why don't you come home with us, Ageless? said Frog. You could talk to her then.

Oh no, I don't think so, said Ageless. No, that wouldn't do.

You wouldn't have to come in, said Baby Pierre. You could just look through the window. At least you could see her.

Alright, said Ageless, I will.

The Power of Beauty

Everyone in the Blue Group was impressed with Frog. A tomato that recognised a quote from Nietszche!

Of course, said Frog. Nietszche was referring to Christian morality, not life forms, synthetic or otherwise. I believe that I myself contain the seeds of my own propagation. Furthermore, I feel my time is near. Therefore do not think me rude if I leave you prematurely. Let me remind you before I go that you have only two minutes left to come up with a list of three policy issues to present to the assembled groups downstairs. Goodbye, my friends.

And Frog left the table, his dignity intact.

Downstairs he found Ageless and Baby Pierre already sitting at their table.

You look very red, said Baby Pierre. What happened?

Nothing, said Frog. Can we go home now?

No, said Ageless. It's clicker pad time! Are we hopeful, sceptical or alarmed about the future of Synthetic Biology? What do we think, boys? We've got one vote between
us.

You decide, said Baby Pierre. I think Frog needs to go home.

Oh, said Ageless, clicking on 'alarmed'. Drat! I meant to click on 'hopeful'!

Did you? said Frog. Does that mean you've changed your mind?

Yes, said Ageless. There was such a pretty young lady in my group.

A Tulip !

When I say I go by the name Ageless, said the lobster, I should add that all lobsters go by that name, because we do not age.

Wow! said Frog, again. How lucky are you?

It's a mixed blessing, said the lobster. It means we have to die of a nasty accident. Believe me, you wouldn't like to live with that.

I would, said Frog.

No, you wouldn't, said Ageless firmly. I would choose to be a tomato any day.

No, you wouldn't, said Frog. I'm only a few weeks old and look at me.

Oh, stop it, said Baby Pierre. Mr Ageless, do you know Kobo the fossilised clam?

The lobster stiffened, although this was imperceptible.

My beloved Kobo! he cried. I do!

Then you are my daddy, said Baby Pierre. Why didn't you recognise me by the lobster claw marking on top of my head?

I thought it was a tulip, said Ageless.

Frog grinned, then stopped because his skin felt rather tight.

A tulip! said Baby Pierre.

Never mind, said Frog. You didn't recognise your daddy either.

That's because he's blue, muttered Baby Pierre.

Of course I'm blue, said Ageless. What did you think I would be? Red?

Yes, said Baby Pierre. If you want to know, I thought you would be red.

Ha ha! laughed Ageless. If I were red I would be COOKED! That's exactly the sort of nasty accident we lobsters try to avoid. Well, boys are you coming?

Let me see the red hat first, before deciding, said Baby Pierre.

Here it is, said Ageless. Click, click, I knitted it myself!

Who is The Middle-Aged Lobster?

The middle-aged lobster stopped. He glanced back at Baby Pierre and Frog.

It's closing time, boys, he said. Didn't you know?

Oh, said Baby Pierre, disappointed. We were hoping to look in a mirror.

Were you indeed? said the lobster. May I ask why?

My friend wants to monitor the progress of his ...umm... Baby Pierre trailed off.

Advancing decrepitude, said Frog. May as well say it.

You look like a perfectly ripe tomato to me, said the lobster. I wouldn't worry about it. Now boys, I'm going to an event across town. It's at the Royal Science Institution. There will be a discussion on the topic of Synthetic Biology, food, drink and best of all, clicker pads. Would you like to come along?

We don't have tickets, said Baby Pierre.

You can come in with me. You are both small. I could secrete you under my hat, said the middle aged lobster. And once inside, we can share the same seat.

What sort of hat is it? asked Baby Pierre, with mounting suspicion.

A red one, said the lobster.

And is your name Ageless? asked Baby Pierre.

I go by that name, admitted the lobster.

Wow! said Frog.

The Terrible Fate of Poor Francoise

Wait a minute, said Frog. What's to become of me?

What? said Baby Pierre. Come on!

No, said Frog. I'm worried. You're alright. You're a stone.

I am, said Baby Pierre. And I know this much. It's a terrible thing to know the future.

Why? asked Frog, settling down on the poisoned grass. Tell me why it's a terrible thing.

I will, said Baby Pierre, sitting down next to his friend. It's something I learned from Auntie Kobo.

What does Kobo know about the future? asked Frog. She's a fossilised clam!

She loves to read, said Baby Pierre. And a terrible thing happened to her last week. She started a book called The Earth, by Emile Zola. But she made the mistake of reading the introduction first.

Now I know what's going to happen, said Frog.

No you don't, said Baby Pierre. She was reading the introduction quite happily when
she suddenly found herself reading about something that happens to one of the characters, Francoise. A truly terrible thing. Her sister Lise deliberately and impulsively pushes her onto a scythe, and she dies, her belly and unborn child slit open by the blade.

Eeuuuw! said Frog. That's horrible! Why was Kobo reading a book like that?

It's a classic of French realism, you ningnong, said Baby Pierre. The point is, Auntie Kobo had to read the whole book knowing that was going to happen. And she hated it.

Frog sighed.

It was only a book, he said. That hardly equates to my existential angst. I'm going to get old and soft and die. You're not.

You are shiny and hard and green, said Baby Piere confidently. It won't happen for ages and ages.

Look again, said Frog.

Oh Sweezus! said Baby Pierre. You're going red!

Poison

Baby Pierre and Frog got off the bus on North Terrace. They crossed the road.

I wonder which one of these buildings is the Library? said Frog.

I don't know,said Baby Pierre. We should have asked the bus driver. Let's sit down here in the sun and decide what to do.

They sat on a lawn in front of a building with open doors from which angry-looking people were emerging to the faint strains of a cello concerto. At the top of the steps was a movable sign that read SOLD OUT.

This is nice, said Frog. I can hear music. It sounds like Dvorjak.

So it does, said Baby Pierre. But look behind you.

Frog looked. A man with a mask and a backpack was squirting brown liquid onto the grass in a seemingly random fashion. Squirt, squirt, squirt, went the man. Then he went away.

Do you think it was poison? asked Frog.

Yes, said Baby Pierre. And now look. People are sitting on the grass that he poisoned, and eating their lunch.

He pointed to a young woman and a small child who were doing just that.

There's nothing wrong with poison, said Frog. It only kills bad things.

Frog! said Baby Pierre. You talk like a tomato!

Sorry, said Frog. I am a tomato. We are different, you and I.

A defeatist tomato, said Baby Pierre.

You'll be here long after I've shrivelled up and died, said Frog, disconsolately.

No I won't, said Baby Pierre. Get up. We're moving on.

Travel Free and Sit Where You Please

Baby Pierre and Frog waited at the bus stop.

A bus came along, and stopped. They clambered on.

You're supposed to hail the bus, said the driver. But I've made an exception in your case, as neither of you have arms.

Thank you driver, said Baby Pierre. I am Baby Pierre and this is Frog.

You don't need to tell me your names, said the driver. Where do you want to go?

To the Library, said Baby Pierre.

Then you're on the right bus, said the driver. And as a baby, you get to travel free.

Wait a minute said Baby Pierre. I am not strictly speaking a baby. I am a small stone. I am young for a stone, I admit, and innocent in the ways of the world, but I daresay I'm at least million years old.

Then you qualify as a senior, said the driver, and you may still travel free.

What a system, said Baby Pierre. Come on Frog.

Wait, said the driver. Is he really a frog?

No, I'm not, said Frog, speaking up for himself. I'm a small green tomato. Do I need to pay?

If you were a frog, said the driver, you would have to travel in the care of an adult and remain at all times enclosed in a box. But as you are a vegetable...

A vegetable! squeaked Frog. I'm a fruit!

A fruit then, said the driver hurriedly. As you are a fruit you may travel free and sit where you please.

Thank you driver, said Frog, as he and Baby Pierre moved to the back of the bus.

Well! said Frog. It is evident that a great deal of discrimination goes on in the wide world. He didn't say you had to be in a box in the care of an adult when he thought you were a baby!

Indeed, said Baby Pierre. That does seem unfair. But as we have both turned out be members of privileged classes, let us be glad.

Identity: Frog and Baby Pierre

Baby Pierre set off immediately. After all, he had nothing to pack. He scanned the window sill looking for an easy way down. At the end of the sill he saw a small green tomato, sitting on its own. He approached it boldly.

Hello! he said. I'm Baby Pierre. Who are you?

I don't know, said the small green tomato. Who do I look like?

You look like a tomato, except you're not red. You're green and marbled, like a frog.

Green, am I? said the small green tomato. Are you saying that I should be red?

No Frog, I'm not saying that, said Baby Pierre. But one day you're bound to turn red.

How do you know? asked Frog.

Everything turns red in the end, said Baby Pierre. That's my theory. My daddy is already red. He wants me to wear a red hat. But I'm not ready to wear it. You and me, Frog, we are the same. Not ready to be red.

Frog looked doubtful.

Come with me, said Baby Pierre. I'm off to explore the wide world.

Alright said Frog, impulsively. Where shall we go first?

To the bus stop, said Baby Pierre. I believe it is over the road.

Needing a Frog

A frog? said Pliny. You needed a frog? But you must have been fifteen years old by then! What need did you have for a frog?

Biology, Pliny. Our Biology teacher at school asked us each to bring a frog to dissect in class. It seems a little strange, now, to think that we had to provide our own frog.

Does it? said Pliny. That does not seem strange at all. I would rather say it was a good practical character-building experience.

You would think that. And I had the best of intentions. I took a jar to the creek on Lockwood Road and looked for a frog. I could hear frogs croaking, but I didn't see a single one. So I gave up.

And asked the boy next door to catch one for you?

No! I told you we didn't speak to one another. Maybe I asked my mum to ask his mum to ask him. Anyway, somehow he caught a frog and I got it. It was enormously fat.

And you took it to school and dissected it.

I took it to school.

And you didn't dissect it ?

No. I wasn't looking forward to dissecting my frog. It had never occurred to me that I might not have to if I didn't bring one. But it must have occurred to three quarters of the class. So we had to dissect the frogs in groups of four, and someone else did it.

But you watched?

No, I didn't even watch. But I heard someone say OH YUCK! It's full of EGGS !

Tweety Pie

You know everything, I said to Pliny.

I take notes, said Pliny.

I take notes too, I said. But I know very little about birds. However, I have just remembered something. I once had a pet budgerigar.

Unlike you, observed Pliny. What were the circumstances?

The circumstances were that I was twelve and my friend Wendy Suter gave me one for my birthday. Her family kept budgerigars in a cage in their back yard. My budgie was aqua, white and grey. I called him Tweety Pie.

Pliny looked unimpressed by my choice of name.

I didn't really want him, I explained.

Nevertheless, sniffed Pliny, you could have thought of a better name. And where did you keep your Tweety Pie?

In a wire cage in the kitchen. It rapidly filled up with gritty black and white speckled droppings and I had to clean them out. Every Friday he was allowed out of the cage to fly around. He was terrified. And I was terrified. Sometimes he would land on my head and I would get this strange vibration in my throat. I can still remember it. It was horrible.

Did you have him long? asked Pliny.

Not long. Our family went on holiday and we asked our next door neighbours the Braileys to look after him. And on Friday Andrew Brailey let him out and Tweety flew out of their kitchen window and away to certain death.

You must have been annoyed with Andrew Brailey, said Pliny. He should have taken more care with your Tweety Pie.

He should have, I said. He was not to know that I was much happier with an empty cage.

Why not, asked Pliny. Did you never tell him?

I don't remember that we ever exchanged words. However, three years later I let it be known that I needed a frog, and he very promptly caught me one.