His First Bristlemas

It's good we got away with a warning, says Dries, as he and Gaius cycle away from Brisbane airport.

I fail to see why we needed a warning, says Gaius. We did nothing wrong.

It's the times, says Dries. Airlines are jumpy.

True, says Gaius. And there was bloodshed. But all's well that ends well.

Are we there yet? asks Terence, poking his head out of the back back. My parrot feels chalky.

No, says Gaius. It's a long way to the Brain Institute. What do you mean chalky?

White and crumbly, says Terence.

Like cheese? asks Dries.

No like me, when I feel chalky, says Terence. Actually it's me that feels chalky.

Don't be silly, says Gaius. You are just seeking attention.

I'm going to throw up, says Terence.

We'd better stop, says Dries. I don't want him to throw up in my back pack.

They stop.

Terence is lifted out of the back pack, along with baby B-B, and placed on the grass.

Better now? says Dries. Try some deep breathing.

Terence tries some deep breathing. It's hard.

What's Bristlemas? asks baby B-B.

Pardon? says Gaius.

What's Bristlemas? Holly said it was Bristlemas, says baby B-B.

You must have misheard her, says Dries. She said Christmas. That's was why the captain let us off with a warning. Because it was Christmas.

Christmas, says Terence. Is it Christmas?

Not yet, says Gaius. Tomorrow.

Terence perks up. He feels less chalky.

Tomorrow is our birthday, says Terence to baby B-B.  I get presents. You get .....what do you normally get for Bristlemas?

Baby B-B, doesn't know. This will be his first Bristlemas.

Say anything, says Terence. They have to buy it.

Coffee, says baby B-B.

You'll get it, says Terence.

What about you? asks Dries.

A scooter, says Terence.

Baby B-B wishes he'd said a scooter as well.

Too late now.

They are lifted back into the orange back pack.

Dries and Gaius continue their journey through Brisbane.

Some time later they arrive at the Brain Institute.

It is closed.

There is note on the door.

Closed for Christmas. Gone to Port Stephens. Back 5th of Jan.

Getting Away With A Claw

Holly comes back from seeing the captain.

You can sit down again, she says. Nothing will happen. You'll escape with a warning.

What is the warning? asks Gaius.

Where do I start? says Holly. Firstly you stowed a child in an overhead locker.

He isn't a child, says Gaius. He's a representation.

That's right says Terence. I represent this parrot.

(Warning: This is not Christian doctrine).

Secondly, says Holly. By placing your luggage incorrectly, a breakage has occurred, of the child's cement finger.

Which proves my point, says Gaius. He is not a human person.

You needn't attempt to refute the accusations, says Holly. I told you, it's a warning.

My parrot didn't have a warning, says Terence.

Holly looks down at baby B-B, who is on Dries' lap, getting trauma counselling.

Thirdly, says Holly, you have carried an undeclared bird onto a plane. These are all serious offences, punishable by fines or imprisonment. However it is almost Christmas, and the captain is in a good mood. He thought the incident was funny. And he would like to meet you at the end of the flight to have his photo taken with the little baby Jesus.

Yee-ha! says Terence. And my parrot?

We'll see, says Holly. Now, wait here while I fetch the first aid kit. Your parrot is bleeding.

She goes off to fetch a first aid kit. She comes back.

There is really no need, says Gaius. I have glue packed somewhere.

No, says Holly. Let me bandage the parrot. Hm, it doesn't look like a real parrot.

All my parrots don't, says Terence. How will you stick his claw on?

I can't, says Holly. He will have to learn to get by without it. Perhaps he should have physio.

I should have physio, says Terence. I have to get by without my finger.

No, you don't, Terence, says Dries. And I want you to think about the effect of what you're saying on baby B-B.

Terence is stung. He has not thought about the effect of what he is saying on baby B-B.

What is it?

He looks at his best friend, the now clawless (on one foot) baby B-B.

He can have my finger, says Terence. And I'll have his claw. Would you like that, blood-brother?

His blood-brother is not sure he would like a cement finger.

But Terence is suddenly one hundred percent certain that he would like a claw.

.......

The flight has landed.

The captain is waiting at the exit.

Holly takes a photo of the captain with Terence.

The captain, unsure of the etiquette, (ought one to manhandle a baby Jesus?), has squatted to be on a level with Terence. Terence is sticking up his new claw in what looks like ( but isn't ) a blessing. For legal reasons, baby B-B is not in the photo at all.

A Valuable Lesson In Non-Regeneration

Everyone please remain calm, says the flight attendant, picking up the finger.

Is this yours? she asks Gaius.

No, says Gaius, waving his hands to demonstrate that he still has ten fingers.

Nor mine, says Dries, doing the same.

Would you mind vacating your seats for a moment, says the flight attendant (whose name is Holly).

Is there a problem? asks Gaius.

Yes, snaps Holly. There's blood dripping from the overhead locker.

Gaius stands up, nearly bumping his head. He can't move yet, because Dries hasn't.

Dries stands up. They both shuffle sideways, and stand in the aisle.

Holly reaches up and pulls down the orange backpack.

Plonk. It is now on Seat 13B.

It is howling.

Wait, no, that is Terence, who has lost a finger.

Oh my goodness! says Holly. It's a little baby Jesus, and it's finger's come off.

The other passengers crane their necks to see the little baby Jesus with no finger.

Let me see, says Gaius. Stop howling, Terence. It can't possibly hurt. It's nothing my Roman bull glue won't fix in a jiffy.

Terence stops howling.

We were wrestling, says Terence. I won.

Tic! Tic! Tic!

What's that ticking? says Holly.

It's not ticking, says Terence. It's Tic! Tic! Tic!

Endangered bird alarm call, says Gaius.

Don't tell me there's a BIRD in this back pack! says Holly.

Not a whole one, says Terence. One of his claws has come off.

Hence the bleeding, says Gaius.

I shall have to report this to the captain, says Holly. Don't sit down yet.

She goes to the front of the plane.

Dries looks into the depths of his back pack. Baby B-B is there, his claw has come off and he is casting around in the darkness.

Let me help you, says Dries. He pokes around in the bottom.

A passenger stands up and comes over.

Excuse me, I was just thinking, if you don't want that finger.....

My finger! cries Terence. I do want my finger!

I just thought, says the passenger. Sorry......

He goes back and sits down. Probably some sort of Catholic.

Dries finds the claw.

Eureka!

Baby B-B looks hopeful.

Now then, says Dries. Do you want to tell me about it?

We were finger-wrestling, says baby B-B. Finger v. claw. And I won.

We both won, says Terence. But I won the most because you're bleeding.

But you lost a finger, says baby B-B.

You lost a claw, says Terence.

I can grow another one, says baby B-B.

Can he? asks Terence.

No, says Gaius. He can't.

Bird Blood And Finger

Now they are flying to Queensland, on a plane.

Gaius and Dries are in seats 13A and 13B.

In the overhead locker, inside the orange back pack, are Terence and baby B-B.

The locker is shut. It is dark, not even faint light through the cracks.

The two bicycles, dismantled and in flat packs, are stored in the checked baggage compartment.

This place is the darkest.

In this dark place, Schopenhauer's bicycle, dismantled and flatpacked, has time to reflect on its situation.

If the purpose of life is not suffering, then existence is most ill adapted to its purpose.....

For it is absurd to suppose that the endless affliction we see every day should be accidental....

Misfortune is generally the rule......

I hope my San Marco saddle has been properly wrapped.....

It's awfully hot in this flat pack.....

Gaius's bicycle on the other hand, being insentient, is simply glad of the rest.

.......

In the overhead locker Terence and baby B-B are playing I spy.

Orange, says baby B-B.

Everything's black, says Terence.

That's right! says baby B-B. Your turn.

Orange, says Terence.

.........

Gaius and Dries are nutting out plans.

When we get there, says Gaius. We must reassemble our bicycles.

Okay, says Dries. Then what?

Ride directly to the Brain Institute, says Gaius. It's part of the Queensland University.

Good, says Dries. Then what?

Meet with Professor Marshall, and Dr Gagnon, says Gaius. They're the ones who made the ground breaking discovery.

What was it? asks Dries.

Previously, says Gaius, they showed that the mantis shrimp, or Gonodactylaceous falcetus, is able to reflect and detect circular polarising light, a rare ability in nature.

And now? asks Dries.

Their new study shows that the mantis shrimp uses circular polarisation to covertly advertise its presence to aggressive competitors, says Gaius.

It doesn't seem all that important, says Dries.

On the contrary, says Gaius. Circular polarised light travels in a spiral which humans can only detect with special lenses.

Still doesn't, says Dries. You are yet to convince me. Would you like a mint?

Thank you, says Gaius, accepting a mint.

The conversation turns to the refreshing nature of mints, TicTacs in particular.

Gaius is relieved, having not yet figured out the importance of mantis shrimps using circular polarised light either, although he suspects it has something to do with possible applications.

A loud cracking is heard in the overhead locker.

A flight attendant comes running and opens the locker.

Two drops of bird blood and a small cement finger drop out.

Distantly Related To Shrimps

Gaius and Dries are riding their bikes to the airport.

Terence and baby B-B are inside Dries' back pack.

On the way, Gaius and Dries exchange information on shrimp related subjects.

Gaius: So, you have an interest in vision and colour?

Dries: Mm, yes and no.

Gaius: What do you mean by that exactly?

Dries: It's this bicycle. Did Schopenhauer have such an interest?

Gaius: I believe he did. He was friendly with Goethe. Goethe encouraged him to write "On Vision and Colours".

Dries: That explains it then. For this bicycle, if I may speak freely, believes that colour is subjective, existing solely in the spectator's retina.

( Terence, inside the orange back pack: What about tomato sauce colour? That doesn't.

Baby B-B, also inside the orange back pack: No, that's not what it's for.

Terence: What what's for?

Baby B-B: A retina. Retinas are like magnets. They tell you where to go.

Terence: Mine don't. You're lucky.

Baby B-B: Mine don't either. Mango told me. That's how she got here.

Terence: Was Mango a parrot?

Baby B-B: Yes. A gold and blue parrot. She has Mag-R, in her retinas.

Terence: Like GPS?

Baby B-B: No, it's a protein. )

Gaius: So much for vision and colour. What do you know about shrimps?

Dries: Oh plenty. For instance in Belgium, in Oostduinkirke, old men still go shrimp fishing on horseback. It's a most ancient practice.

Gaius: How fascinating. Shrimp fishing on horseback. How does that work?

Dries: They use large Brabant draught horses, with wooden saddles. They ride into the sea up to the top of the legs of the horses, dragging shrimp nets behind them. They wear yellow rain slickers, tall rubber boots and sou'westers  and they usually get a good catch.

Gaius: That makes my heart glad. And do Belgians enjoy eating shrimps?

Dries: Sure they do. Our shrimp croquettes are the best. I could eat one right now.

Terence: Are we there yet?

They are. Here is the airport already.

Time flies when you exchange information on shrimp related subjects.........

The Science Of Blows

Dries returns with one of those squeezy tomato sauce bottles.

No! says Gaius. Tomatoes do not enter my house!

This is SAUCE, says Dries. There was no red food colouring.

I'll try it! says baby B-B.

Dries squirts tomato sauce into a cup of milk which was waiting.

Baby B-B drinks it. It's horrible.

Our milk is wrecked now, says Terence.

The purpose of existence is not to be happy, says Dries.

We know, says baby B-B.

So does the clam in the video that Gaius was watching.

SHE IS NOT TO BE HAPPY.

The mantis shrimp has dragged her into its lair.

But she has not died yet.

Wait! says the clam to the mean mantis shrimp who has just cracked her open.

What for? snaps the mean mantis shrimp.

This is a video, isn't it? says the clam. And it's finished. So can I leave now?

No, says the mantis shrimp. I didn't even know anyone was filming.

Well, they were, says the clam. It was a video for You tube.

What was it for? asks the mantis shrimp. His interest is piqued.

To record the strength of your blows, says the clam. Look what you've done here.

She wiggles her grey-white ragged edges.

Tach! That's NOTHING, says the mantis shrimp.

But how do you DO it so hard? asks the clam.

Double whammy, my dear, says the mantis shrimp. I whack you so hard that I generate cavitation bubbles between my appendage and your shell surface. The collapse of the bubbles produces measurable forces. So! It's like two hits with one blow. Now, let me just open you further.....

Wait! says the clam. Perhaps there will be another episode!

What about? asks the mantis shrimp, suspicious.

Don't you have special eyes? asks the clam.

She thinks she has heard it somewhere.

Actually yes, says the mantis shrimp. I have the most complex eyes of all animals.

There you are then, says the science-literate clam. The You tube world is your oyster.

I won't need YOU though, says the mantis shrimp, as he forces her open.

He enjoys her.

But his enjoyment
                            doesn't                                     outweigh                                                her pain.

Schopenhauer Likes Seafood

Will baby B-B say something?

What the Tic! He WILL say something.

And how is one supposed to recognise a Schopenhauerian aphorism? asks baby B-B.

But you know how it is when some naive person (or bird) mentions Schopenhauer (or Nietzsche).

Exactly. You hear what you want to.

Listen to that, says Gaius. The bird is grateful. It is trying to burble its thanks.

It wants something to eat, says Dries.

No. He doesn't, says Terence.

Yes I do, says baby B-B.

Well done, says Terence. Schopenhauer likes food. He likes seafood.

How do you know? asks baby B-B.

I went on a trip with him, says Terence. Him and Professor Freud. We played paintball.

So does aphorism mean seafood, or does it mean paintball? asks baby B-B.

It means any food, says Terence. What kind do you like?

I like marshmallows and coffee, says baby B-B. What kind do you like?

Red milk, says Terence.

I'd like to try that, says baby B-B.

Can we have some red milk? asks Terence.

Certainly, says Gaius. Dries, have a look in the fridge.

Dries looks in the fridge. It is full of carefully wrapped packages. Some are still moving.

Milk. But no red milk.

You have to MAKE it, says Terence.

Then I'll have to go to the shops, says Dries. How absurd this is becoming. Must it be red?

It's not red milk otherwise, says Terence.

Aphorism! says baby B-B.

Sort of, says Terence.

Dries goes off to the shops, on his bicycle, which once was Schopenhauer's, thinking:

Surely colour is merely subjective?

Meanwhile Gaius is googling the mantis shrimp, so that he will be up to date on the latest.

He finds a short video on Youtube.

Underwater, a mantis shrimp attacks a clam shell with a claw like a hammer.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

Each time the mantis shrimp whacks the clam, a bit breaks off the lip of the clam shell.

A rim of white flesh is exposed. The mantis shrimp whips its broken prey into its gaping black lair.

Fadeout.