Way up high, in the sky flew Sid. Clinging to his back was Arthur.
Arthur knocked on Sid’s carapace Sid looked at him. “Can we please stop,” said a shivering Arthur, “I need some long johns.”
Sid looked disdainfully back. He had had to lip read what Arthur was saying. Looking for a place to land he started to descend from 30,000 feet. When he did land he opened his visor. “I told ye to pack some long johns.”
“Yes Sid, you did. I am sorry, I feel such a fool.”
“Surely that’s not a temporary feeling?”
“Feeling a fool, surely you feel that all of the time?”
Arthur shivered back.
Sid surveyed the local area from 50 feet, then hovered back to the ground. “There’s a fishing shop about a mile away in
“Ttttthat’s fine,” said Arthur as he shook.
“You can sing ‘This Ole House’ now,” suggested Sid.
“Shakin’ Stevens sang it, you can be known as Shakin’ Arthur.”
The battle suited dwarf picked Arthur up and flew him to the fishing shop.
“Päivää,” greeted the manager, or was he the owner, of the shop.
Arthur looked through his Varangian phrasebook, “Zdravstvuj,” he replied.
“Stupid man,” said Sid, “he’s Finnish and you’re speaking to him in Russian.”
“You speak Britannic?” asked the manager/owner/shopkeeper.
“”You speak English then manager/owner/shopkeeper,” realised Arthur. “By the way Author have you decided if he is a manager, owner or shopkeeper yet?”“I know what I am,” said the proprietor, “I am a proprietor.