“Definitely not,” said the ball.

“Well. That’s a new trick for a ball,” I thought. As I contemplated dropping what was now both a disturbingly responsive window into whimsy and a talking inanimate object, the ball spoke again.

“Inanimate yes, unintelligent, no, and please, just a simple, soft replacement into my box will suffice over your intended clumsy antics.”

“Um. Right,” I said as I sat the ball tentatively back in the box.

“So with Thomas gone, obviously one of you is the new keeper,” said the ball, matter-of-factly.

“Keeper? What, of you?” stammered Roy, momentarily overcoming a complete stupor you can only understand if you’ve just been addressed by a thing that by rights should not be addressing anyone.

“Quite,” said the ball. “Surely Thomas mentioned it. Surely that’s why you’re here?” The ball stared as only a ball can and in whatever way thoughts happen for a ball, came to the conclusion that we were entirely confused.

“Oh, perfect,” it lamented. “Just perfect.”