Scampi: Oh, hi Peter.  How’s your hand feeling?

 

Peter: It’s fine.

 

Scampi: Good to hear.

 

Peter: What would be wrong with my hand?

 

Scampi: Well, you know.  With the chill in the air and all.

 

Peter: It is the season.

 

Scampi: Sometimes you get an ache in a bone that was broken before.  Hasn’t this happened to you?

 

Peter: Mm.

 

Scampi: What are you packing into that cardboard box, anyway?

 

Peter: Oh, this and that.  An assortment of things.

 

Scampi: Like what?

 

Peter: Mm.

 

Scampi: Hey, what’s — ouch!  Jeez.  If you didn’t want me to see what’s in your cardboard box, you could just say so.  Jeez Lou-eeze.

 

Peter: It’s private.

 

Scampi: Yeah, I can see that.

 

PAUSE.  WHILE PETER FILLS HIS BOX WITH SECRET THINGS, SCAMPI FILLS THIS PAUSE WITH WILTING TREASURES:

 

A PINT OF TEARS/DISHWATER; LOOSE TEA; FRESH SNOW; 2 MONTHS OF PREGNANT SILENCE; A BOUQUET OF HAIRCUTS; LEGS; CURRIED POTATOES, BEETS; SIX FEET OF COUCH; CONSECUTIVE MORNINGS, NUMBERED ALPHABETICALLY; A HANDFUL OF EXTRA ALPHABETS, BEVERAGES, AND BASIC MISTAKES/COMMON ERRORS; THE BLUEPRINT FOR WHAT IS POSSIBLY A DANDELION CROWN.

 

Scampi: Wow.  The ultimate care package!

 

Peter: What are you talking about?

 

Scampi: I’m being domestic.

 

Peter: Ah.

 

Scampi: Speaking of which, what is your opinion on the current political situations?

 

Peter: Situations?

 

Scampi: Sure.

 

Peter: I have sent them packing with a flourish.

 

Scampi: Where?

 

Peter: To the suburbs.  The current political situations are currently camped out in the meat-packing district.

 

Scampi: Ah ha!  Excellent.

 

Peter: Now go away.

 

Scampi: What?

 

Peter: I want you to go away now.

 

Scampi: Why?

 

Peter: Once you are gone, I will throw this box out the window.

 

Scampi:  But what if it hits me?

 

Peter: Then you had better start running.