Diggers: Phew ... finally here we are—the harbour!
Pickles: ...
Pickles: Woof. <It's sea bass.>
Pickles: Woof. <But I don't think I have ever tried anything with sea bass.>
Pickles: Woof, woo? <How marvelous ... is this a trick my subconscious mind pulls on me?>
"Doggie": The puppy is surprised.
Diggers: Comrade, be as surprised as you want!
Diggers: One of the skills you would acquire in a tramp life is to keep the map in your head.
Diggers: You have a lot to learn, little one.
Pickles: Hmm … <I don't understand why we are here.>
"Doggie": The puppy is not familiar with it.
Diggers: Oh, you've never been here?
Diggers: Then you have missed out on so much!
Diggers waves a fragment of the brochure in his hand; on it the word "cruise" and "Paris" are exaggeratedly circled in red.
Diggers: You can find all kinds of sales promotions in the morning market, for the distributors here never think about people's spending power!
Diggers: Which explains, this baby!
He raises his arms, at the end of which that piece of paper rustles in the wind like a brittle ribbon.
The harbour has become quiet again after the market is over in the afternoon.
Diggers: Hmm, though we have missed the best time to collect flyers ...
Diggers: But I'm assuming there would be a dozen of people who couldn't be bothered to take all these colorful papers home ...
Diggers: Now it's your turn, little one!
He reaches for the dog's nose with that broken brochure.
Pickles: Woo, woof. <Mister, there is no way I can sniff out traces from such a complicated smell on this paper.>
Pickles: Woof, woof … <This is pointless. I suggest you read more about biology ...>
"Doggie": The puppy can't be of help.
Diggers: Oh, that's a shame.
Diggers: Well then, perhaps you can keep an eye on the paper nearby? If you see any of these cheap magenta ones ...
Pickles: Woo, woo … <I don't have a sufficient number of cones in my eyes to tell red from other colors. >
Pickles: ...
Pickles: Woof. <However, I know a way that is more efficient.>
The dog slowly casts his eyes down.
Diggers: Oh, you want a nap!
Diggers: Leave it to me then, comrade. The reliable Diggers will start ... from the rubbish bins!
The man turns around dramatically, fully unaware of the indigo glow behind him.
Pickles: special thinking noise <This is strange. What is happening to me …? Is my arcane power failing me?>
Pickles: special thinking noise <The brochure … yes, I ought to see where the brochure ...>
Pickles: Woof … Wuu … Om? <But what are these … Are, are they whi-white … sneakers?>
???: Wendy ... Why ... here alone?
Pickles: special thinking noise <Who is talking?>
???: Pickles ... Lost?!
Pickles: special thinking noise <Pickles?>
Pickles: special thinking noise <Should I ... know this name?>
Pickles' eyes fluttered open.
Pickles: special thinking noise <This ... this is bizarre.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <My perception is beyond my control ... but what am I looking at?>
Diggers: Ah-ha!
The man who almost dived into the rubbish bin straightens up.
Diggers: Here, comrade! Look what I have found!
Diggers: An intact copy of our flyer!
Diggers: Check out what's on the left page—oh! A trip on the ocean loaded with surprises, a wonderful cruise to Paris!
Diggers: Good news for us, this is exactly what we have read from the bits and pieces!
Diggers: Then the departure time is ...
Diggers: Tonight?!
Diggers: Oh, this is fate!
He seems to be in high spirit.
Diggers: A miraculous coincidence ... my purpose!
Diggers: Phew, good! Now, the price! Let me see ...
Diggers: ...
Diggers: No, no no ... I must have gotten it wrong.
Diggers: One, ten, a hundred ...
Diggers: ...
The brochure he just picked up falls on the ground again.
Diggers: Apparently, you can't name a price on art.
Diggers: ... But you can name one on its door.
Diggers: I believe this is the destined tribulation we have to overcome to furfill our purpose ...
Diggers: We have to find another way.
Diggers: Like a ... more artistic way ... say, stowaway?
Diggers: Oh! I gotta say, it sounds romantic!
Pickles: ...
Pickles: Hm?
In the reflection of his eyes, there is another cruise trip printed on the right page of the brochure.
Pickles: Woof? <Greece?>
Pickles: Woof ... Woof. <It leaves tonight ... Perhaps I can leave with this good mister.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <A cruise to Greece ... no, to home.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <On board I will be the ship in the ship, a mist named Theseus ...>
Diggers: Hey, comrade, are you listening?
Diggers: You seem a bit odd.
Pickles: Woo, woo, woof. <Sorry. For a reason I don't know, I can't stop thinking about philosophy.>
Pickles: Hmm? <But why would I ever need to stop?>
Diggers: Em? It's already ...
Diggers: Damn it, time is not on our side.
Diggers: Let's hope the party will come to this street shortly.
Diggers: Of course, it'd be even better if they can go to the harbour ...
Diggers: Okay then, there's nothing I can't tackle with my Reflective Bubbles!
???: Woof, woof.
A voice comes from across the river.
Pickles: Woof? <Em?>
Pickles: Woof? <This is a name long lost in memory ...>
Pickles: special thinking noise <That's not right.>
???: Pickles? Piiiiiickles!
The Border Collie's ears prick up.
Pickles: special thinking noise
Pickles: special thinking noise <It's the same one I just perceived ...>
Diggers: Comrade?
???: There he is!
???: Woof, woof woof!
Pickles: Woof ... Woo. <No, I don't remember any apple pies ... it's too sour to my taste.>
Pickles: ...
Pickles: Woof? <Sour?>
Charlton: Oh my god, it's Pickles!
The figure across the river is still vague to his eyes, but Pickles has vigilantly put his tail up to the air.
Wendy: Woof, woof woof!
Next to the breathless man, a ball of fur is hopping about anxiously.
Charlton: Wendy, it's really him! Thank goodness I found him ...
Charlton: He seems fine ... Fantastic ...
Charlton: Holy, I can't cross the river!
Charlton: Pickles! Stay there and don't move!
The man quickly scrambles through his pockets.
Charlton: Look!
Charlton: It's your favourite Lectures on the Philosophy of History!
Pickles: ...!
The white tip of his tail wags in the air.
Pickles: special thinking noise <Who is that man?>
Pickles: Wuu mm … <He's wearing the white sneakers ...>
Pickles: special thinking noise <Oh. Are those HIS shoes?>
Pickles: special thinking noise
The dog walks a few steps towards the river.
Pickles: Woof. Hm ... Woof. <I like his voice. His smell ... is pleasant too.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <He is too far away from me. Why doesn't he come closer?>
Diggers: Move along, comrade, time waits for no one!
Pickles: Woof, woof. <Yes, yes, I know.>
The dog takes a step towards the river and hesitates. He then spins around, whining and feeling vacillated between the two men.
Charlton: Pickles ... I need to get over there!
Pickles: Woo, woo … <Good sir, if not for the fact that I have committed to an important cause ... >
Charlton still eagerly and anxiously tries to find a way to go across the river. On the other bank, the dog in black-and-white keeps looking back at him.
Charlton: Oh please please please don't move!
The man beseeches the dog.
But he has to watch him walking out of his sight with a strange man.
Charlton: Oh no ...
Wendy: Woof, woof, woo ...
Charlton stares at them in a daze, and slowly sits on the ground.
Wendy: Woof woof ...
He holds the poor bulldog in his arms; some wet, slimy marks soon appear on the dog's hair.
Charlton: He abandoned us ...
Wendy: Woof?
