Scampi: I smell trouble.
Peter: You are trouble.
Scampi: Humph. That was uncalled for.
Peter: How’d you get that black eye?
Scampi: Oh, well, you know.
Scampi: Let’s go have a snowball fight.
Scampi: Do you know how to whistle using a blade of grass?
Scampi: I am fond of the sound the sun makes on snow.
Scampi: No. Of course not.
Peter: What sound are you referring to?
Scampi: Sometimes, I think one shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition.
Scampi: One could end it with a RE-position instead. Or with an onomatopoeia. Like, BLARG!
Peter: Blarg is not onomatopoeic.
Scampi: Don’t advertise the narrow breadth of your experience, Peter. Of course it is.
Scampi: The sound is like cut glass.
Scampi: What? No! How ridiculous.
Peter: Oh, excuse me.
Scampi: How foolish. I was referring to the sound of sunlight on snow. It’s like cutting glass. It’s like the tinkle of Waterford crystal on a shelf. Or on a table, I suppose.
Peter: I believe you are experiencing aural hallucinations.
Scampi: I believe I’m in love.
Peter: With what?
Scampi: The season.
Peter: Did you, uh, put some ice on that shiner?
Scampi: Sure I did.
Scampi: Sure I did. I put some icing sugar on the tip of Kilimanjaro while I was at it.
Peter: The flesh is weak, but the spirit soars.
Scampi: Hell yeah.
Peter: Have you had lunch yet?