Happy Fasting

The movie is over. The credits have rolled.

The audience has left to go back to their luxury recliners.

The Tzeets smell dropped popcorn.

Dropped popcorn is tempting, but no.....

Meanwhile Rookai, flying through the night, returning to Saint Kilda, has arrived at Horsham.

Somewhat less than half way.

I am weary, thinks Roo-kai. I shall stop here, and rest.

He lands on the bank of the Wimmera River, beside a yellow gum blossom.

Several whitebrowed woodswallows are perched on the branches.

Get away, carrot beak! says a whitebrowed woodswallow. This is our yellow gum blossom.

Fear not, says Roo-kai. I do not eat yellow gum blossom. Only molluscs.

No molluscs here, laugh the whitebrowed woodswallows. This is Horsham.

I just need a rest, says Roo-kai. I'm happy fasting.

A yellow gum blossom falls on his head.

Followed by another one.

He becomes drowsy in this pleasant scenario.

There's a fish and chip shop in the main street, he hears a woodswallow saying.

They might have oysters.....

Roo-kai dozes off, but not before thinking, that seems unlikely........

Back at Saint Kilda, Gaius has finished his noodles, and enjoyed them.

Are we planning to we stay here all night ? asks Camus.

We are, says Gaius. It will be easier for Roo-kai to find us.

I'll sleep in my car, says Camus. You and Terence are welcome to join me.

Can I sleep on the beach? asks Terence.

We'll both sleep on the beach, says Gaius. 

Suit yourselves, says Camus.

He heads up to the car park.

Flash! Ahh! he is temporarily blinded by the headlights of a police car.

This will be Victor the policeman who had said he was coming.

Which had slipped Camus's mind until now.

I See You Have Special Powers

The wind howls. Its force becomes stronger.

Our end is near! cry the Tzeets.

Their cries disappear in the black swirling atmosphere.

At last, one Tzeet remembers the advice of Roo-kai:

Don't go up top, it's too windy. Stay inside.

But how to get inside the ferry, from up top? 

Maybe one of the sticking-up parts is a funnel?

He looks around. The wind stings his eyes.

The other Tzeet vanishes suddenly.

Alas! Is he lost, my Tzeet brother?

The wind drops for a second, as wind does.

Tzeet! he hears faintly.

It's coming from a hole at the top of the sticking-up part.

He approaches.

Sucked in!

Brother! cries the other Tzeet who is already in there.

There is not much to hold on to.

They let themselves fall.

Woosh. Plop.

They are in a dark room. Music is playing. And there is a colourful moving picture at one end.

What good luck!

The hole has led them to the movie theatre.

What's on?

Who cares?

They have found a safe harbour.

They huddle together, in a comfortable seat at the back.

The movie is about a team of puppies who come to the rescue of humans, using various vehicles.

A meteor is approaching the city.

It lands, boom! making a large hole in the road. But no one is hurt.

The puppies take the meteor to their headquarters, where it gives them special powers.....

At this point the Tzeets fall asleep.

They both dream the same dream.

Two Tzeets find a meteor, which gives them special powers.

Through wind and rain, the Tzeets boldly fly to Tasmania, arriving unscathed.

A stern Albatross welcomes them to Tasmania.

I see you have special powers, says the Albatross. Well done, Tzeets. 

Which way to Melaleuca? ask the Tzeets.

That way, says the Albatross, pointing south west. Shall I come with you?

We'll go it alone, say the Tzeets

At this point the Tzeets wake up, craving snacks.

Levels Of Luck

Camus returns with a bag full of takeaway.

That smells good, says Gaius. What did you get?

Black bean noodles, says Camus. 

He hands Gaius a noodle box, filled with hot noodles.

Eat up, says Camus. I've already had mine.

Gaius eats his noodles, while Terence tells Camus about the stick and the poem.

Where is it? asks Camus.

Over there, in the hard sand, says Gaius. 

Isn't the tide coming in? asks Camus.

Yes, says Gaius.

Wah! cries Terence. My poem will be ruined.

You should have taken a photo, says Camus. 

It may not be too late, says Gaius. Go and take one.

Come with me, Terence, says Camus. 

Camus and Terence walk down the beach to the hard sand where the poem was written.

What a piece of luck, says Camus, taking his phone out.

No, it's too late! says Terence.

A wave has washed in.

That's what I meant, says Camus. My name is obliterated.

Write it again, says Terence.

No time, says Camus.

Click.

What does it say now? asks Terence.

"a peregrine falcon has died/ someone gave it the chocolate of death/ who?/ a man" reads Camus.

A man called nothing? says Terence. 

If you like, says Camus. An everyman. 

It was YOU, says Terence.

Come, says Camus. I bought you a red drink from the noodle bar where I bought the noodles.

Yay! says Terence, forgetting about the ruination.

He returns to sit beside Gaius, and drink his Ribena.

He thinks about the Tzeets, on a ferry, watching a movie.

Lucky them.

......

Meanwhile the Spirit of Tasmania has chugged out of Geelong.

It is churning its way across Bass Strait, at this moment.

The Tzeets are on top, near the sticking-up parts.

Yikes! It's so windy!

They cling to the sticking-up parts, for dear life.

Your Chance To Be Famous

Gaius draws nearer.

What if it isn't a stick?

What if Terence has met an eastern brown snake and annoyed it?

He approaches with caution.

Go on, says Terence. 

No, says the stick. 

This is your CHANCE! says Terence.

For what? asks the stick. 

To be famous, says Terence. 

How? asks the stick.

By writing a poem, says Terence. 

I don't write poems, says the stick

Are you a stick or not? asks Terence.

I am a stick, says the stick.

Gaius breathes a sigh of relief.

It's a stick. 

He comes closer.

And a stick's like a pencil, says Terence.

Yes! says Waca. Like a pencil.

See! says Terence. Waca agrees. And Waca is wooden.

Why don't you let Waca write your dumb poem? asks the stick.

He's not pointed, says Terence.

Allow me to intervene, says Gaius.

Who is thissss? asks the stick.

I am Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Gaius. A natural historian. Initially I suspected you were an eastern brown snake, but my fears were allayed by your statement. Sticks do not normally pronouce thisss in that manner, however.

If it's a snake, says Terence, it's a stiff one.

I AM a stick, says the stick. 

Terence would appreciate having his words recorded in the sand, says Gaius.

You don't know much about sand, says the stick.

On the contrary, says Gaius. I know a great deal about sand.

The stick seems to understand this.

Okay, says the stick. Do it quickly.

Can you do it? asks Terence.

Certainly, says Gaius. Let us find harder sand.

They leave the sandhills, for harder sand, nearer the sea..

Gaius writes the poem to the peregrine falcon in the sand, with the stick.

That was quite moving, says the stick, when Gaius has finished. I'd like to meet this Camoo.

You cannot. He's away buying dinner, says Gaius.

I'll be off then, says the stick.

Gaius puts the stick down. 

It slithers away.

The Chocolate Of Death

Next verse, says Terence:

A peregrine falcon has died/ someone gave him the chocolate of death/ who ?/ a man called Camoo.

That is rather dark, says Gaius. But the chocolate of death is a wonderful image.

Could you leave my name out of it? asks Camus.

No, says Terence. Because it WAS you.

You make it sound deliberate, says Camus. 

Never mind, says Gaius. The poem has gone with the wind, so to speak.

What does that mean? asks Terence.

It is not written down, says Gaius. Only we heard it.

Boo! says Terence. I'm going to write it.

If you had learned to write, says Gaius, that would have been an option.

In the sand, says Terence. With a stick. And pictures.

You do that, says Gaius. 

Terence goes to look for a stick. 

Take me! calls Waca.

Okay, says Terence. I'm looking for a stick to write my poem in the sand with.

I'll help you, says Waca.

They head for the sand hills.

It's getting dark, says Camus. What about dinner?

We can't leave, says Gaius. Roo-kai will be on his way back.

We could leave him a message, says Camus.

No, you go, says Gaius. Bring me something. Nothing with tomato.

Very well, says Camus, heading to the car park, where he left his electric vehicle.

Gaius wonders where Terence has got to.

He follows Terence's footprints to the sand hills.

Ah! There he is, sitting down with a stick.

Probably puzzling out how to spell peregrine falcon when he only knows P  I and O 

Waca will be worse than useless, being a French toy.  

But, hmm, Terence seems to be talking to the stick.

And the stick is answering.

Screw you, it is saying. I was trying to sleep!

He Flew Superfast

Iris has emailed her report to Victor.

Victor has read it.

It seems satisfactory.

He forwards it to Gaius.

Then he remembers that Gaius doesn't always check his emails.

So he sends him a text.

Favour done. Check your emails

Ding! Gaius receives the text message. 

It's from Victor.

He opens the email. 

In it, Iris has reconstructed the conversation she heard in the queue.

Hum, says Gaius. Aha! Yes. 

What is it? asks Camus.

A large white bird with a stern aspect, says Gaius. What might it be?

A swan? suggests Camus.

Or an albatross, says Gaius.

For I have shot the albatross, says Camus. 

Why do you say that? asks Gaius. It was a peregrine falcon you poisoned.

I was quoting, says Camus. From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

I don't know it, says Gaius. 

Water water everyhere, and not a drop to drink, says Camus.

That rings a bell, says Gaius. 

Thy long grey beard and glittering eye, says Camus.

Have you finished? says Gaius. I have received confirmation from Victor that Roo-kai reached Geelong with the orange-bellied parrots.

Yay! says Terence.

And it would seem that he has asked an albatross to assist them, says Gaius.

Or a swan, says Camus. 

Most unlikely, says Gaius. But it would also seem that the orange-bellied parrots have boarded the ferry on their own, and foolishly chosen to perch in the uppermost regions.

They'll be tossed and buffeted up there, says Camus.

Indeed, says Gaius. Let us hope they realise, and go inside before the ferry starts moving.

Roo-kai would have told them, says Terence.

I'm sure he would, says Gaius.  But let's spare a thought for the peregrine falcon, who delivered the message with its last breath.

It was a hero, says Terence. 

In a sense, says Gaius. We have to remember its motive.

Chocolate, says Camus. An ignoble motive.

You gave it that motive, says Gaius. 

I feel sad for the peregrine falcon, says Terence. I'm going to make it a poem. 

He thinks for a few seconds.

 A peregrine falcon has died/ he was hero/ he flew superfast to deliver a message/ and he did it/ because he tried.

Very nice Terence, says Gaius. The peregrine falcon would have liked that.

You don't mention the chocolate, says Camus.

It's not finished, says Terence.

Call Iris Peek

Victor calls Iris Peek, in Geelong.

Iris, says Victor, can you do me a favour?

Sure Victor, says Iris. What is it?

This may sound a bit strange, says Victor.

Fill me in, says Iris.

Go to the Spirit of Tasmania quay, and look for an oystercatcher, says Victor. 

Shouldn't be too hard, says Iris. Any distinguishing features?

Not that I know of, says Victor. But it should be accompanied by two orange-bellied parrots.

Too easy, says Iris Peek. Do I apprehend them?

No, says Victor, just take a photo and send it to me. 

No worries, Victor, says Iris.

Iris is a capable officer. Victor relaxes. He has done what he can.

Iris heads down to the quay.

The Spirit of Tasmania departs in an hour, at 9.30 pm.

She reminds herself what an oystercatcher looks like.

Black and white feathers. Long thin red legs. Straight orange beak.

Probably no point looking into the vehicles.

Unless smuggling's involved.

But Victor said nothing about that.

She walks to the end of the quay, then walks back to the ticket office.

Of course birds don't need tickets. But may as well be thorough.

No. No birds in the queue.

But she overhears this:

So sweet, and they were shivering!

Poor little things. Then what happened?

A bigger bird with an orange beak came up to them.

Is that what they were scared of?

No! They looked relieved. It talked to them, but I couldn't hear what it was saying. Then the big one flew off.

So the poor little ones were left on their own again?

Yes, they looked even more scared than before.

Why didn't you do something?

I was about to, when the bigger bird came back with an even bigger bird.

Wow! What did it look like?

White feathers. A bit stern. It looked at the little birds and nodded. 

That's good. At least it nodded.

Exactly what I thought.

Then what? 

The big white one flew off and the orange-beaked one patted the little ones, and said some more stuff.

Then?

Flew away.

This whole thing doesn't sound like normal bird behaviour.

Mmm, but what do we know?

Yes, what? And where are the little birds now?

You won't believe this.

Try me.

They flew onto the ferry. Up top. But I bet they don't stay there long.

That's for sure! Hey, who'd be a bird?

Iris has heard enough. She has established the presence of the three birds in question, and the current whereabouts of two of them. 

She will not get a photo.

But Victor will receive a report.