Scampi: I had heard – Peter, are you listening to me?

 

Peter: Hm?

 

Scampi: Peter. I’d heard that Jane Austen.

 

PAUSE.

 

Scampi: You know who that is, right?

 

Peter: Of course I do.

 

Scampi: (Yeah, right.) Anyway, she signed her letters, “your affectionate sister, JA”.

 

Peter: Did she sign all of her correspondence in this manner? How unusual.

 

Scampi: Ugh. I mean her letters to her sister. Not her letters to like, the Archduke of Mumbleford or whatever.

 

Peter: Oh? And how did she sign those letters?

 

Scampi: Humph. Well, think about this: Seventeen thousand Senegalese people died defending France in 1940. Did you know that?

 

Peter: I did not.

 

Scampi: I find it very upsetting.

 

Peter: You do seem agitated.

 

Scampi: Thank you.

 

SOFT PAUSE.

 

Scampi: Oh god.

 

Peter: What?

 

Scampi: The air is full of snowflakes.

 

Peter: So it is. Is there a problem?

 

Scampi: I don’t know, Peter. Sometimes the massive beauty of the world is just too much for me. I don’t know what to say.

 

Peter: I don’t understand your use of italics there.

 

Scampi: Peter!

 

Peter: Am I missing something here?

 

Scampi: Pay attention! Seventeen thousand troops from Senegal were killed defending France. The air is full of snowflakes.

 

Peter: There you go with those italics again.

 

PETER RUBS HIS FOREHEAD.

 

Scampi: I was quoting myself. I was summing up.

 

Peter: What’s the difference between quoting yourself and repeating yourself?

 

Scampi (valiantly): Please look out the window.

 

Peter: The snow is falling.

 

Scampi: Or are we falling? Peter.

 

Peter: We seem fairly stable, as compared to the snow.

 

Scampi: (snorts)

 

Peter: What?

 

Scampi: Oh, you can have your opinions. Oh, certainly.

 

Peter: (offended)

 

Scampi: My tea is cold.

 

PAUSE.

 

Scampi: Peter, I wonder –

 

PAUSE.

 

Scampi: I’m not sure.

 

Peter: With whom are you speaking?

 

Scampi: You.

 

Peter: I see.

 

Scampi: Peter, I’m adressing you.

 

Peter: Ah.

 

Scampi: Like a letter. Haw haw.

 

PETER POLISHES HIS GLASSES. SCAMPI PIROUETTES.

 

Scampi: You know what we should do?

 

Peter: I do not.

 

Scampi: We should go to church!

 

Peter: Pardon me?

 

Scampi: I know that you heard me.

 

Peter: I confess, I did.

 

Scampi: Confessing already! Let’s go find a church.

 

Peter: Why would we do that?

 

Scampi: I think it could be a fun adventure.

 

Peter: Don’t we have enough adventure in our lives?

 

Scampi: HA! That’s rich. The last tweed-covered person who had as many adventures as you was Sherlock Holmes. Ha ha.

 

Peter: I have no idea what you’re speaking of.

 

Scampi: Imagine: a church in the midst of all these snow flurries. So quaint. We will pretend to be foreign emissaries. We will receive a hero’s welcome.

 

Peter: From the rector?

 

Scampi: The rector! Hilarious.

 

Peter: What do you want to visit a church for?

 

Scampi: I want to light candles.

 

Peter: Ah.

 

Scampi: I want to see in the dark.

 

Peter: But it isn’t dark out.

 

Scampi: In a church it is.