Month: April 2014

pt 85: A LITTLE BIT OF ATMOSPHERE

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Scampi: Can’t

Peter: Immanuel?

Scampi: Jesus.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You look like you got some sun.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: Sometimes I think your hands are made of wax.

Peter: They are not.

Scampi: Candle wax.

Peter: Incorrect.

Scampi: I’m just saying.  That’s all.

Peter: Well.

Scampi: What do you think about that?

Peter: About you saying things that are untrue?

Scampi: Forget it.

Peter: I shall do my best.

Scampi: Do you hear a crackling?

Peter: In your voice?

Scampi: No.  In the air.

Peter: No.

Scampi: It’s electric.  The air.

Peter: Your voice is cracking a little.

Scampi: It isn’t.

Peter: Okay.

Scampi: It is not.

Peter: Fine.

Scampi: I like pinecones.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: I do.  Nice shape they have.

Peter: It is an ingenious design.

Scampi: [with great disdain] Design!

Peter: Roomy, yet delicate.

Scampi: Just like you!

Peter: I am not roomy.

Scampi: [CACKLES]

Peter: Well.

Scampi: Horses are good, too.  All that kind of stuff.

Peter: What kind of stuff?

Scampi: You know, horses.  And stuff.

Peter: Horses?  And?

Scampi: Stuff.

Peter: Stuff.

Scampi: You know what I mean.

Peter: This is rarely an accurate statement.

Scampi: [GUFFAWS.]

Peter: I fail to see the humour.

Scampi: This is generally an accurate statement.

Peter: Are you quite finished?

Scampi: With what?

Peter: This tomfoolery.

Scampi: Tomfoolery!  Oho, Peter!

Peter: No comment.

Scampi: Har har.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You and your waxy fingertips.

Peter: They are not waxen.  This has been established.

Scampi: Waxy.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: Do you know what a dagesh is?

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: I bet you don’t.

Peter: That’s rude.

Scampi: It’s a dot.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: In Hebrew consonants.  It strengthens them.

Peter: I see.  Perhaps I did know that.

Scampi: Yeah right.  Anyway, can you imagine?  Strengthening a consonant.

Peter: I don’t see why not.

Scampi: Humph.  Imagine yourself.

Peter: I don’t generally have to.

Scampi: Being strengthened by a dot, I mean.

Peter: I am not a consonant.

Scampi: Don’t be too sure.

Peter: I am fairly sure.

Scampi: Well, it’s nothing to be smug about, anyway.

Peter: I don’t think—

Scampi: You probably think you’re some kind of a vowel!  Ha ha.

Peter: Incorrect.

Scampi: And sometimes y!

Peter: I am not a member of the alphabet.

Scampi: A member!  You’re killing me.

Peter: That is not the intent.

Scampi: Ah, the comprehensive Aristotelian tragedy.  Intent has nothing to do with it, I’m afraid.

Peter: That is cause to be fearful.

Scampi: It is.

THE SILENCE OF BLACKBIRDS.

Scampi: Would you like to know something else about the language of our fathers?

Peter: What are you talking about?

Scampi: The shva.  You know what that is?

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: I know.  You know what it does?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Ha.  It represents four things, four different things.  Grammatical entities.  Get this.

Peter: One hopes I shall, eventually.

Scampi: Resting, moving, and floating are the first three.  You know what the last one is?

Peter: Hang-gliding?

Scampi: No.  Bleating.  (Or bellowing.)  Can you imagine?

Peter: Being so often in your company leaves little about bleating and bellowing to the imagination.

Scampi: Humph.  I bet you’d be strengthened by a pinprick to the middle.

Peter: As I have recently stated, I am not a consonant.

Scampi: True.  You might deflate.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: It would probably sound like that, too.  Or not.

PENSIVE MOMENT.

Peter: Are you suffering from a broken heart, perchance?

Scampi: I liked it better when we were talking about horses.

pt 89: PROXY

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Scampi: There are a couple of things to say.

Peter: Regarding?

Scampi: Yes.  Regarding the subject of beauty.

Peter: Oh, this.

Scampi: Correct.  This.

Peter: Beauty is subjective.

Scampi: Incorrect.  Do not fill my ear with stupidities.

Peter: Pardon me?

Scampi: Look, I’m just saying.  Don’t mind me.

Peter: You look utterly exhausted.

Scampi: No, I don’t.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: Beauty is like luck.

Peter: Evasive?

Scampi: Ha!  You’re so cunning, Peter.

Peter: What?

Scampi: With your little jokes.

Peter: Oh.  Well.

Scampi: To continue.

Peter: To continue.

Scampi: It is a difficult thing, this moving along.

Peter: I suppose.

Scampi: One foot and then the next.

Peter: This is how we walk.

Scampi: Yes, but that’s what I’m saying.

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: We walk, we walk.  One foot in front of the other.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Where the hell are we going?

Peter: That way.

Scampi: And more to the point, why aren’t we running?

pt 30: DEER ON THE TRACKS

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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.

 

[PAUSE.]

 

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.

 

[PETER INSPECTS HIS NAILS.]

 

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.

pt 109: HEARTBEATS

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Scampi: Did I tell you about the other time I fell in love?

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: What a thing to say.

Peter:

Scampi: Well, can you imagine?

Peter: Ho hum.

Scampi: So it’s like this.

Peter: Are you upset about something?

Scampi: No.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: That’s right.

SCAMPI YAWNS.  PETER YAWNS.

Scampi: I would like to talk about humanism.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: Desiderius Erasmus.  Eh?  This means something to you?

Peter: I am familiar with the name.

Scampi: Ho ho.

Peter: I know who Erasmus is.

Scampi: Oh, I don’t doubt it.  Not for a second!

Peter: Hm.

Scampi: I don’t know anything about him.  It’s all very tragical.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: These Reformation types and their crazy ways.  I want no part of it!

Peter: Has someone been inviting you to take part in the Reformation?

Scampi: Ridiculous.  Peter, you are simply nuts.

Peter: [offended]

Scampi: Well, there’s no need to take offence.

Peter: You have just accused me of being nuts.

Scampi: Impossible!  I simply want some tea.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Do you want some tea?

Peter: Well.

Scampi: Oh, please, do take your time.  I am a tea-making factory, here for your convenience.

PETER TURNS THE PAGE OF HIS MAGAZINE WITH PRECISION.

Scampi: You little Gatling gun, you.

Peter: Are you speaking to me?

Scampi: No.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You wouldn’t have guessed this about me.

Peter: Guessed what?

Scampi: Precisely!  No one would have guessed.

Peter: I am not fond of guessing.

Scampi: No, you aren’t.

PAUSE.

Scampi: It’s not impossible to imagine, however, that I would have spent four days of my life sleeping through the night, for example.

Peter: A contradiction in terms?

Scampi: Please do not be such an asshole, Peter.

PAUSE, IN WHICH PETER’S SEETHING CAN BE PRESUMED, IF NOT PROVEN.

Peter: Would you not say ‘proved’, rather?

Scampi: Mind your own business!  God.

Peter: Deus.

Scampi: Out of the machine!

Peter: Indeed.

Scampi: It could have been four days.  It could have been six nights.

Peter: Of sleeping?

Scampi: Of perfection.

Peter: Ah, perfection.

Scampi: I don’t appreciate your sneering.

Peter: I?  Sneering?

Scampi: Your mouth is full of melted butter.

Peter: [with difficulty] It is not.

Scampi: If I had known, I would’ve made popcorn.  Anyway, we can make room in our lives for our humanist friends, of course.

Peter: Ah yes, our humanist friends.

Scampi: Not to mention our four-legged brethren.

Peter: Yes, such as cats.  Do cats like to eat catnip?

Scampi: No.  It causes them to vomit.

Peter: Really?

Scampi: Of course.

Peter: I am suspicious of this information.

Scampi: Well, that says plenty about you.  But nothing about catnip.

Peter: I –

Scampi: Your mastery of the first-person pronoun has been recorded.  Now, what was I saying?

Peter: It is impossible to determine.

Scampi: One day you might wake up in the morning to an appropriately-coloured sky.  There is a human creature sleeping next to you.

Peter: This is hardly controversial.

Scampi: Exactly.

Peter: You have a problem with the colour of the sky?

Scampi: I do not.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: Another morning, you do not wake up at all.  You sleep until dusk.

Peter: [nervously] Oh, the lifestyle of the common layabed.

Scampi: Are you nervous about something?

Peter: [nervously] No.

Scampi: Because you seem nervous.

Peter: Stop interfering with my delivery.  I am entirely lacking in nerves.

Scampi: Have I hit a nerve?

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: In either case, you are both of them, the happy early riser, and the lonely evening layabed.  Both of them at once.

Peter: Where is this going?

Scampi: Nowhere.  You get out of bed, you don’t get out of bed.  Doesn’t matter.

Peter: I see.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You know what happened to me yesterday?

Peter: You got out of bed and fell in love?

Scampi: No.  In the afternoon I heard the sound of birds and went outside.

Peter: A daring tangent.

Scampi: I looked up into the tree, it was all green leaves.  I could hear the birds everywhere, you know, like a chipmunk farm.

Peter: Ahem.  Our winged neighbours are sometimes rather loud.

Scampi: Yes.  But I couldn’t see them.

Peter: Because of the leaves?

Scampi: I don’t know.  I couldn’t see a single one.

Peter: Hm.

Scampi: That’s what happened to me yesterday.

Peter: Did anything else happen?

Scampi: Not really, no.

pt 71: HE LIVES BY THE RIVER

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Scampi: I would like to begin this essay by first establishing.

HOURS PASS, LIKE HONEYBEES.

Scampi: Peter?

Peter: Yes?

Scampi: Well, what do you think?

Peter: I think it’s time for some spring cleaning.

Scampi: It isn’t spring yet.

Peter: In Mesopotamia it is.

Scampi: The rivers.  They are warming in the sun.

Peter: I am currently planning to wash my drapes?

Scampi: Was that a question?

Peter: I don’t know.

Scampi: It certainly sounded like one.

Peter: If I could just.  Argh!

Scampi: Maybe you should leave the curtains for another day.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: You can approach your intended goal in small, manageable chunks.

Peter: This is a strategy.

Scampi: It is.  You might do well to employ it.

Peter: Allow me to prevaricate further on this matter.

Scampi: Of course.  I suggest you leave the curtains, though.  For the moment.

Peter: But.  Ah.

Scampi: The dust, you see.

Peter: Oh.  Yes.

Scampi: Do you know what I’m doing?

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: I know you don’t.

PAUSE.

Scampi: I’m sorting through these ribbons.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: I’m laying them out, you see, such that they don’t get creased.

Peter: [glancing over] What are those?

Scampi: Ribbons.

Peter: Oh.

Scampi: This one here for example.  It’s the colour of your eyes.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Lies!

Peter: What was that?

Scampi: Unless your eyes are black and white polkadots.  Which I suppose they are.

Peter: There’s this splinter in my thumb.

Scampi: What are you planning to do about that?

Peter: Nothing.  I suppose.

Scampi: I could help remove it.

Peter: No, no.

Scampi: It would be easy peasy.  A simple operation.

Peter: No thank you.

Scampi: Are you sure?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Really?  Sure sure?

Peter: I’m positive.

Scampi: Fine then.

Peter: It is.

Scampi: Be that way.

Peter: I shall.

Scampi: No one doubts it.

PETER SNUFFLES AT HIS HAND, COLTISHLY.

Scampi: Oh, that’s very productive.

Peter: [muffled] Sorry?

Scampi: No man is an island!

Peter: (ARGH!)  An oft-expressed sentiment.

Scampi: I suppose you imagine yourself to be some sort of peninsula?

Peter: Mnph.

Scampi: Did you get it?

Peter: Half.

Scampi: What happened?

Peter: It broke off.

Scampi: Ha.

Peter: Were you saying something about the Balkans?  Just now?

Scampi: You wish.

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: [cackles]  If you wish.

Peter: I sometimes think you have an unhealthy fixation on the Balkans.  I believe.

Scampi: Oh ho.  That’s rich.

Peter: Balkan this.  Balkan that.

Scampi: How your own mind betrays you!

Peter: What now?

Scampi: That certainly sharpened you up.  Your ears just stood on end, my boy.

Peter: Poppycock.

Scampi: So, watcha wanna talk about?  The Iberian peninsula, maybe?  Perchance?

Peter: (primly) I have nothing against it.

Scampi: Such an assiduous opinionist you are.  La-dee-da.

Peter: At least I’m not a reactionary.

Scampi: Certainly not.  You wouldn’t react if I paid you.

Peter: Like a common thug!  Foul idea.

Scampi: Not you!  You wouldn’t react if I poked your patella with a toothshaped hammer!

Peter: Leave my reflexes out of this.

Scampi: I couldn’t drag them in if I tried.  Last I heard, they were on extended leave.

Peter: My reflexes?

Scampi: Never heard of them.  You rock of the ages.  Watertight, eh?

Peter: I am not made of stone.

PETER FILLS A COFFEE CAN WITH WATER.

Scampi: What are you doing with that thing?

Peter: Nothing.

Scampi: Observing your reflection?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Oh, Peter.

Peter: What?

Scampi: You’re a human bean, of course.

Peter: Ahem.

Scampi: Not a rock at all.  Of course not.

Peter: Did you say bean?

Scampi: A furry little beanstalk.

Peter: Few have called me little.  If I could insert a parenthesis.

Scampi: Brackets away!

Peter: I am not familiar with this expression.

Scampi: For which the subcommittee forgives you preemptively.

Peter: Preemptively?  But I said it just now.

Scampi: They’d forgiven you already.

Peter: The subcommittee.

Scampi: Yes.  They can’t resist you.

Peter: I’ll leave that to your discretion.

Scampi: What?

Peter: The train of thought.

Scampi: Oh.  That’s very generous of you.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You could use the water to water some plants.

Peter: That is what I had planned.

Scampi: Is it?

Peter: I had planned that already.

Scampi: I don’t doubt it.

Peter: Then the matter is settled.

Scampi: Sure.

Peter: Don’t call me sir.

Scampi: Why not?

Peter: Just don’t.

Scampi: Why?

Peter: I don’t like it.

Scampi: Does it make you feel old?

Peter: No.

Scampi: The auld sod.

Peter: Nothing of the sort.

Scampi: Shall I call you Ol’ Man Pete?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Would you like that?

Peter: I would not.

Scampi: That’s Ol’ Man Pete for ya.  Short and to the point!  Oh yes.  Yes sir.

Peter: There you go again.

Scampi: You’re glowing like a sunbeam.

Peter: I am?

Scampi: You almost laughed just now.  I saw it.

Peter: Hearsay.

Scampi: That’s right.  I’m here, and I say so.

Peter: I—

Scampi: You concede the point with your silence.  I understand.

PETER CONCEDES THE POINT.

Peter: Whatever it might be.

Scampi: Agreed.  How’s the spring cleaning coming?

Peter: Fine.

Scampi: I’m not sure how up to date you are with geography and such.

Peter: I am a modern man.

Scampi: Or a variation thereof.  A peninsula, as you may know, might sometimes drift out to sea.

Peter: Impossible.

Scampi: I mean break off, you know.  Like splinters.

Peter: Yes, well.  It might.

Scampi: The land, however.  It’s the same.

Peter: I am not following you.

Scampi: It doesn’t matter.  On either side of the water.  Same dirt.  Following be damned.

Peter: Are you discussing soil samples?

Scampi: History takes a long view of things, Peter.

Peter: And how does this pertain to soil samples?

Scampi: We all do, Peter.  In the end.

pt 128: THE LONG ANSWER

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Scampi: The result of this was, of course,

Peter: What was that?

Scampi: Which part?

Peter: I am not speaking to you.

Scampi: To whom are you speaking?

Peter: It’s private.

Scampi: What are you, carrying around a two-way radio?

Peter: Affirmative.

Scampi: Oh.  Okay.

THE WIND WHISTLES “THE IRISH WASHERWOMAN”.

Scampi: Have you ever been to a vicarage?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Oh.

Peter: Why do you ask?

Scampi: Why wouldn’t I ask?

Peter: Do not speak to me in this manner.

Scampi: Don’t tell me what to do.

PAUSE.

Scampi: It’s odd, isn’t it?

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: Telling someone not to tell you what to do.  Ridiculous!

Peter: It is gratifying to see you thus entertained at my expense.

Scampi: Your expense!

Peter: Indeed.

Scampi: Oh, you’re so generous with your expenses.

Peter: Ahem.

Scampi: A vicarage is where a vicar lives.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Don’t pretend to know all about it.  You’ve never even been to one.

Peter: This does not preclude me from knowing what one is.

Scampi: Oh yeah?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: What is it, then?

Peter: What?

Scampi: Pardon?

Peter: What is what?

Scampi: You sound so silly right now.  Like a gander.

Peter: What are you talking about?

Scampi: There’s no need to yell.  Just because you don’t know what a vicarage is.

Peter: Incorrect.

Scampi: What is it, then?

Peter: A vicarage?

Scampi: Obviously.

PETER EXPELS AN EXCESS OF AIR.

Peter: It is the residence of a vicar.

Scampi: I already told you that.  Doesn’t mean you know anything about it.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: I love to watch the play of light upon the hills.

Peter: Charming.

Scampi: It is charming.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: It’s not like I’m suggesting you eat the hills or anything.

Peter: May one enquire as to the location of the geographic features to which you are referring?

Scampi: Features!  You gobbledy gander!

Peter: This is the second time today that you have identified me as a member of the Anatidae family.

Scampi: And?  What of it?

Peter: Furthermore, I do not see any hills.

Scampi: Why not?

Peter: Because there aren’t any there.

Scampi: Where?

Peter: In my line of vision.

Scampi: Well, perhaps you should change your line of vision.

Peter: It’s all hills and geese with you, today, I suppose.

Scampi: I have no idea why you would say such a thing.

PETER EMITS A SMALL SQUAWK, WORTHY OF A MEMBER OF THE SUBFAMILY ANSERINAE.

Scampi: I suppose we could talk about current events.

Peter: Such as?

Scampi: Or the latest teams to win the cup.

Peter: Ah, the Cup.

Scampi: “Home we brought you shoulder-high.”

PAUSE.

Scampi: The hills could be any hills, you know.  They could be mountains.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: I like to watch the light drift.

Peter: Perhaps you are over-tired.

Scampi: Are you talking to me, or the radio?

Peter: I am speaking to you.

Scampi: One can never tell.  These days.

Peter: These are the days.

Scampi: We are quite lucky, really.  To be swaddled in days like this.

Peter: Is that so?

Scampi: Yes.  That’s so.

pt 21: THE SKULL IS SUPERFICIAL TO THE BRAIN

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Scampi: Give us an example of what your voice sounds like.
 
Peter:
 
Scampi: Come on.
 
Peter: Lamp-post.
 
Scampi: Perfect!
 
Peter: Chicken-wire.  Coconuts and Portuguese irrigation systems.  Balloons!  Toes!  Incandescent wire mausing spaceship tubes!  Waggling interfaces!
 
Scampi: How fantastic.  More!
 
Peter: I’m exhausted.
 
Scampi: I didn’t know you had it in you.
 
Peter: Well.
 
Scampi: You make a lot of rustling noises.  Did you know that?
 
Peter: Pardon me?
 
Scampi: That’s like, your primary noise.  Rustling.
 
Peter: I will not condescend to disprove such a theory.
 
Scampi: You are a rustler.  You should go into cattle.
 
Peter: (sighs)
 
Scampi: I award you seven points for the timbre of your excellent voice.  But I would give you ten more if you ran away from home and became a cowboy.
 
Peter: (clears his throat)
 
Scampi: You know what else?
 
SILENCE.
 
Scampi: Hey!  Peter!  You know what else?
 
Peter: No.
 
Scampi: Ha!  I know.
 
PAUSE
 
Scampi: Well, anyway, some of your shirts are made of unusually soft materials.
 
Peter: Yes.
 
Scampi: So you can’t be all bad.
 
Peter: How gracious.
 
Scampi: You know what else?  Hey?
 
Peter: No, I do not know what else.
 
Scampi: Me neither.
 
Peter: Scampi –
 
Scampi: But I promise I’ll tell you some day.
 
Peter: Okay.
 
Scampi: Peter?
 
Peter: Yes?
 
Scampi: I’m tired.
 
Peter: I know.

pt 35: ALL MEN ARE LIONS

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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.

pt 81: LOVE LETTERS FROM THE FRONT

/ loutre78 / Leave a comment

Scampi: Have you been reading comic books?

Peter: No.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Are you nervous about something?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Sure?

Peter: Not at all.

Scampi: Like, you’re not sure?

Peter: I am not nervous about anything.

Scampi: Ever?

Peter: Could I posit something?

Scampi: Blarg.

Peter: Please do not make that face at me.

Scampi: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Peter: Well.  I believe that it is you who is the nervous one.

Scampi: Ridiculous.

Peter: That may be.

Scampi: No comics, no nervousness.  I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on around here.

Peter: As per usual, your sleuthing techniques are impeccable.

Scampi: Shucks.

PAUSE.

Scampi: I can’t think straight!

Peter: For godssake.

Scampi: What?

Peter: There is no need to raise your voice in that manner.

Scampi: Manner shmanner.

Peter: My ears.

Scampi: Your ears?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Humph.

Peter: Ahem.

Scampi: I can’t think.  Straight.

Peter: I didn’t say you had to whisper.

Scampi: I don’t care what you say about it.

Peter: Then why are you asking me?

Scampi: Asking nothing.

Peter: Telling.

Scampi: Fine.  I rescind the previous statement.

Peter: Fine.

PAUSE.

Peter: There is something special by the railroad tracks.

Scampi: What is it?

Peter: I think you should find out for yourself.

Scampi: What is it?

Peter: A large, plastic dinosaur head.

Scampi: Oh ho.

A PAUSE FOR SUNLIGHT.

Scampi: Qu’est ce que la verité?