pt 92 ½: METEORS

Scampi: But I get the feeling it is.  See?

Peter: I am absently thinking to myself.

Scampi: What?

Peter: I said nothing.

Scampi: Who said that then?

Peter: I don’t know.

Scampi: You are absently thinking to yourself.  I can tell.

Peter: Well, well.

Scampi: Change is in the air.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: But what does it mean?  What does it mean?

Peter: You have had the occasion to repeat yourself excessively of late.

Scampi: So what?

Peter: A prime example.

Scampi: There you go again.  Obsessed with primacy.

Peter: This is untrue.

Scampi: And why should I take your word for it?

Peter: Because I’m right.

Scampi: Oh, sure.  The primate, that’s you.

Peter: We are all primates, of a sort.

Scampi: An orangutan in a fancy hat.  Some aspiration.

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: The clouds are tumbling in.  Like mats in a gymnasium.

Peter: The weather, I might point out, is not our fault.

Scampi: Heresy!

Peter: Meteorology.

Scampi: If the elements can turn, we can turn.

Peter: Around?

Scampi: Into something else.  We can become something new.

Peter: Are you suggesting we ought to be shiftier?

Scampi: I’m not suggesting anything.  Not a thing.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Something new can be constructed.  Up from the ground.

Peter: As long as the appropriate architectural plans have been drawn up beforehand, of course.

Scampi: Oh, of course.

Peter: What is the cause of this bitterness?

Scampi: What bitterness?

Peter: You object to architecture?  Or to plans?

Scampi: What a question!  What questions!

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: I just want us to be ready.

Peter: For what?

Scampi: Precisely.


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