Scampi: I’m angry.


Peter: Mm.  Uninteresting.


Scampi: I went walking on the railroad tracks last week.


Peter: Uh-huh.


Scampi: I sat down in the middle of the tracks and had a picnic.  The sun was setting.


Peter: On the tracks?


Scampi: How poetic!  No, in the sky.


Peter: You sat down on the tracks?


Scampi: I don’t think it counts as a picnic if you’re standing up.


Peter: Ah.


Scampi: It was beautiful.  My mouth was full of apple.




Right when the sun was turning into grey soup at the end of the view, I saw a deer.


Peter: On the tracks?


Scampi: Yeah on the tracks.  She looked at me with her big deer eye.


Peter: She?


Scampi: Yes.


Peter: What leads you to believe it was a she?


Scampi: Because the Yankee’s ballcap she had on her head was pink.  How do you think I knew?


Peter: Oh.


Scampi: I had the urge to lie down on the tracks, dig myself a groove like a fairy tale hero, and just let the train come.




Imagine all those commuters, flying over me like rubberband airplanes.


Peter: Eviscerating your cranium…..


Scampi: You wish.  Will you have some tea?


Peter: No.  Thank you.


Scampi: I think you’re wrong about me.


Peter: Pardon?


Scampi: I think, for your own convenience, you’ve made up things about me that aren’t true.


Peter: Oh?  What makes you think that?


Scampi: Because you wear them like a hooded sweatshirt.


Peter: That’s your opinion.


Scampi: I can see the strings dangling all the way down your front.


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