pt 69: THERE IS A HISTORY IN ALL MEN’S LIVES

Scampi: Imagine if you were from someplace that started with The.

 

Peter: Yes?

 

Scampi: Well?

 

Peter: Well what?

 

Scampi: Imagine if you were.

 

Peter: If I was what?

 

Scampi: From someplace that started with The.

 

Peter: With the – ?

 

Scampi: Yes.

 

Peter: With the what?

 

Scampi: No, just The. The word, “the”.

 

Peter: It is a word, yes.

 

Scampi: Like, The Hague. Imagine.

 

Peter: You want me to imagine that I am from The Hague?

 

Scampi: Not necessarily. I mean, you can if you want.

 

Peter: I am not particularly compelled.

 

Scampi: There’s news.

 

Peter: Where is this leading?

 

Scampi: Down the garden path, of course.

 

Peter: I see no garden.

 

Scampi: (sadly) No.

 

A FEW GLUM MOMENTS.

 

Scampi: On the bright side, gardening is a healthful practice. We could all stand to do some gardening.

 

Peter: And this is the bright side?

 

Scampi: It is. An order of new buds, sunny side up.

 

Peter: Oh.

 

Scampi: “Wow, the sun’s so far north, now.”

 

Peter: It is?

 

Scampi: I was quoting.

 

Peter: Quoth you.

 

Scampi: God wot. Or doth ‘e?

 

Peter: Duffy?

 

Scampi: Yes, Bob?

 

Peter: Pardon me?

 

Scampi: Oh, sorry. Do you prefer to be called Robert?

 

Peter: Absolutely not.

 

Scampi: Have it your way. The sun is setting.

 

Peter: That has nothing to do with me.

 

Scampi: It does if you’re where the action is.

 

Peter: Oh? And where is that?

 

Scampi: Sure ain’t in the east.

 

Peter: You are one of logic’s finest.

 

Scampi: Do you really think so?

 

Peter: Ah.

 

Scampi: [PREENS.]

 

Peter: Really.

 

Scampi: What?

 

Peter: Is this demonstration quite necessary?

 

Scampi: Necessary! What kind of a demonstration would that be?

 

Peter: A useful one.

 

Scampi: In your dreams, buster. This is a gratuitous display, thank you very much.

 

Peter: Oh, don’t thank me.

 

Scampi: I insist.

 

Peter: For a change.

 

Scampi: Snip snap. You’re quite the clippership today.

 

PETER SCRATCHES HIS NECK.

 

Scampi: What are you trying to do there? Molt?

 

Peter: I am not paying attention.

 

Scampi: Well, you should probably start. Unless you’re in the market for an emergency tracheotomy.

 

Peter: Certainly not.

 

Scampi: Good. Your body is your tempest.

 

Peter: Temple.

 

Scampi: Um—forehead!

 

Peter: Pardon?

 

Scampi: You lose!

 

Peter: At what?

 

Scampi: Word association, of course. Ho, ho.

 

Peter: There is nothing admirable in grandstanding.

 

Scampi: Yeah, sure. There’s nothing fun in having no fun.

 

Peter: [GROANS.]

 

Scampi: Jeez, Peter. There’s a difference between a tautology (garden variety) and like, a poisoned spear.

 

Peter: (weakly) I suppose.

 

Scampi: You do. Anyhow, speaking of gardens (once again), I am reminded of great joy.

 

Peter: How so?

 

Scampi: It’s the logical next step.

 

PETER ABORTIVELY RAISES HIS ARMS IN PROTEST.

 

Scampi: I am reminded of the profound feeling of great joy that neither of us is currently experiencing.

 

Peter: What sort of a statement is that?

 

Scampi: An accurate one.

 

Peter: I really have to protest.

 

Scampi: As well you should. We should be howling from the rooftops.

 

Peter: How utterly undignified.

 

Scampi: Don’t talk about yourself that way.

 

Peter: [SPLUTTERS.]

 

Scampi: Look over there!

 

Peter: [SQUINTS.]

 

Scampi: Gorgeous!

 

Peter: I am probably not the first to inform you of the detrimental effects of staring into the sun.

 

Scampi: Probably. Anyway, I wasn’t pointing at the sun.

 

Peter: I see.

 

Scampi: I was looking underneath it.

 

Peter: Underneath it?

 

Scampi: Yes. At the flowers.

 

Peter: I see no flowers.

 

Scampi: Yet.

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