Scampi: See those flowers?
Peter: I do.
Scampi: They remind me of you.
Peter: I don’t know why.
Scampi: I do. They’re just like you.
Peter: They are not.
Scampi: They are. Look at them.
Peter: I am looking at them. This is how I can surmise that we are nothing alike.
Scampi: Those tulips remind me exactly of you.
Peter: I don’t understand this.
Scampi: Well, they do.
Scampi: For starters, you’re both sort of delicate. And stemmed.
Scampi: Uh, yes. Yup.
Scampi: Although, to be fair, you don’t have a brilliant stripe of scarlet for a throat. Do you?
Peter: That’s private.
Scampi: Well, the tulips are two-tone. You, on the other hand, are a monochrome gentleman. I mean, am I wrong here?
Peter: I’m lost.
Scampi: While the tulips are grounded. They are rooted in the earth.
Peter: Sometimes I’m rooted in the earth.
Scampi: I know. I’ve seen it.
Scampi: I notice you don’t get calluses from reading books.
Scampi: Or anyone, really.
Peter: That’s true. Theoretically, someone could have a callus. Depending on how they held the book.
Scampi: Or how silly they were.
Scampi: You like to read a book or two.
Peter: I don’t deny this.
Scampi: But this doesn’t give you, say, back pain for example.
Scampi: Or you don’t lose all the cartilage in one of your knees.
Peter: It is true that there is cartilage in both my knees.
Scampi: Right. Your patellae are as ripe as oats.
Scampi: You don’t have pains in your knees.
Peter: No, I don’t. Should I?
Scampi: Not at all. You’re beautiful as is.
Peter: Oh. Ah.
Scampi: You and those tulips.