Scampi: I’m trying to make you a cup of coffee.

Peter: You may do as you wish.

Scampi: That’s not the point.

Peter: Ah.  Terribly sorry.

Scampi: What?


Scampi: You are not.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: Why are you making that noise?

Peter: It is hot.

Scampi: Yes.  Would you like me to mop your brow for you?

Peter:  Ugh.

Scampi: What?

Peter: Please.

Scampi: I have been dancing up a storm.


Scampi: What do you think of that?

Peter: The statement appears to be plausible.

Scampi: You haven’t danced in two years.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: I was learning awful things about dying of typhus.

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: Gaol fever.  With a gee, in the olde style.

Peter: Perhaps I should open the window.

Scampi: That’s what they called it.  Carried around in the excretions of lice.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Disgusting.

Peter: May I remind you that I did not bring up the subject?

Scampi: Well, I thought it was all just awful.

Peter: For what purpose were you investigating this disease?

Scampi: Investigating!  What do you think this is, Scotland Yard?

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: Well, you’re correct.  This is not Scotland Yard.

Peter: I will make a note of it.

Scampi: Good.


Scampi: These poor people.  Peter.

Peter: What people?

Scampi: Wilting with fever and deliriums.

Peter: This occurred in the past.

Scampi: I know when this occurred.


Scampi: You look drawn.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: Like a charcoal sketch.

Peter: It is too hot.

Scampi: You know what else?

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: We are very lucky.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: I could put ice in your coffee.

Peter: No thank you.

Scampi: Fine.


Scampi: What?  What?

Peter: Could you please explain the presence of your head on my scapula?

Scampi: It’s heavy.


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