pt 84: ROSES

Scampi: Bones, bones.

Peter: Are you addressing me?

Scampi: No.

Peter: What did you say?

Scampi: I said no.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: Before that, I said bones bones.

Peter: Why?

Scampi: I’m not sure.


Scampi: Echo!

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: That’s the complementary noise to your current activity.

Peter: Don’t be tiresome.

Scampi: I shall not.


Scampi: I move that we are in the woods.  The sand trap, if you will.

Peter: Aren’t those two different places?

Scampi: Don’t be so fussy.


Scampi: We just need to figure out which direction to head in.  You see?

Peter: North, south, east, west.

Scampi: Where’s the one that I love best?

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: As you are familiar with the nature of a compass rose.

Peter: I am.

Scampi: I needn’t point out that we might head north by north west.  South by south east.

Peter: We might.

Scampi: You sound exhausted.  Are you suffering from exhaustion?

Peter: I am not.

Scampi: You might be.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: Well, try and take it easy now.  We don’t want you dropping like  a cat.

Peter: What?

Scampi: That’s what I’m saying.  Now, let’s head in the direction of the sun, shall we?

Peter: If you like.

Scampi: But is the sun rising or setting?

Peter: It is difficult to tell.

Scampi: I suppose that’s why they call it an adventure.

Peter: I suppose so.

Scampi: Cheer up, Peter.

Peter: I am in perfectly good spirits.

Scampi: [snorts]  Sunward, ho.  Aren’t you coming?

Peter: [REVOLVES.]

Scampi: Hm?

Peter: Yes.  I am.



Peter: I am feeling pretty vigorous today.

Scampi: It seems that way.

Peter: Yes. In fact, I’ve just come from the laundromat.

Scampi: Clean clothes.

Peter: I am truly dominating the world of simple tasks.

Scampi: Next thing we know, you’ll be chairman of the board.

Peter: I am shouldering my portion of responsibility. I am striding down the street with purpose.

Scampi: [YAWNS.] It is a wondrous thing.

Peter: Are you tired?

Scampi: No.

Peter: You seem tired.

Scampi: You seem artificially inflated.

Peter: Pardon me?

Scampi: Nothing.

Peter: Well, I—

Scampi: Do you—


Scampi: Sorry, what?

Peter: Go ahead.

Scampi: No, you.

Peter: You were going to say something?

Scampi: No, no. What were you saying?

Peter: I should be pressing on.

Scampi: Yes, well, don’t press “off” by mistake.

Peter: Places to go, people to meet.

Scampi: Natch.

Peter: Maybe I’ll even purchase a new necktie.

Scampi: A fitting symbol.


Scampi: Do you remember, we once walked past two different people carrying cymbals in the same day?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Ah.

Peter: Well, see you later.

Scampi: Goodbye.


Scampi: I have no opinion on that subject.

Peter: I am a busy man.

Scampi: What does that have to do with anything?

Peter: Ah.  One of these moods.

Scampi: Moods?  What are you talking about?

Peter: Please do not interrupt my self-satisfactions.

Scampi: Oh, yes.  Of course, of course.

Peter: Pardon?  What is going on?

Scampi: You were talking about your self-satisfaction levels.

Peter: I was discussing nothing of the kind.

Scampi: Oh ho.

Peter: As you well know.

Scampi: Says you.


Scampi: I’ve decided to make some changes.

Peter: Ah yes.  “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

Scampi: Stop reading fridge magnets at me.

Peter: You were saying?

Scampi: Well, I don’t know.  Should I climb more trees?  Or fewer trees?

Peter: I have never witnessed you climbing a tree of any description.

Scampi: That’s a boldfaced lie.

Peter: Perhaps you wish to be alone.

Scampi: No.  I do not.

Peter: Interesting.

Scampi: We should listen to some music.

Peter: You may listen to some music.

Scampi: Urgh!

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: I’m trying to get to the bottom of something here.

Peter: May I be of assistance?

Scampi: No.


Scampi: Yes.  I need you to do some research for me.

Peter: I am a busy man.

Scampi: Oh for the love of god.

Peter: YHWH.

Scampi: Don’t get all fancy with me.

Peter: Are you incapable of doing your own research?

Scampi: What the hell is that supposed to mean?


Scampi: Yeah, well.  Let me tell you something.

Peter: Yes?

Scampi: Who signed the Magna Carta?

Peter: Are you asking me something, or telling me something?

Scampi: Just you wait.  So, who?

Peter: Ah.  King John.

Scampi: False!  Ha!

Peter: I believe I am correct.

Scampi: You would.


Scampi: Well, no one signed it.

Peter: This is highly suspicious.

Scampi: Um, it was sealed.  Like, King John, he stamped it with a seal.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: But he didn’t sign it.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: No one did.

Peter: Thank you for this enlightening factoid.

Scampi: Which you didn’t know before.

Peter: I did not.

Scampi: Neither did I.  I just found out.

Peter: Ah ha.

Scampi: I was going to talk about some other things.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: But now maybe I won’t.

Peter: I am glad to be informed.

Scampi: Your tone belies your words, sir.

Peter: Don’t call me sir.

Scampi: Don’t slather me with pomposity.


Scampi: Would you like some coffee?

Peter: You always seem to think that I require caffeination.

Scampi: You do.

Peter: Hm.  Perhaps.

Scampi: Perhaps you are awake.

Peter: It certainly appears that way.

Scampi: And I am asleep.

Peter: [sharply] Pardon?

Scampi: I am dreaming.  Perhaps.

Peter: God.  My head.

Scampi: Would you like some coffee?

Peter: Perhaps that would be best.

Scampi: Probably.


Scampi: We are in the woods, Peter.  Or rather, I am in the woods.  Peter?  Do you follow me?

Peter: COUGHS.

Scampi: We might as well make ourselves at home.


Scampi: Isn’t it funny to you how a map can look like a bloodstain?

Peter: What?

Scampi: You heard me.

Peter: Indeed.

Scampi: Well?

Peter: It is meet to point out that I heard the words, but was unable to glean their meaning. In this context.

Scampi: Oh, this is how we’re talking today?

Peter: Pardon me?

Scampi: I ain’t the Pope. I ain’t the state o’ the nation. No pardons dispensed here.

Peter: I think you may have misunderstood the term “State of the Nation”.

Scampi: I am a mixologist.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Remember the Communist blob?

Peter: I believe that was ‘bloc’.

Scampi: Just a big red blob on a map. And now what?

Peter: Perhaps we should identify the appropriate cartographic terms before continuing.

Scampi: Nonsense. You never have any fun.

Peter: [pensively] No.

Scampi: See? Ghastly.


Scampi: What a world.

Peter: Wait, what’s going on here?

Scampi: I dunno. Nothing.

Peter: Did the power just go out?

Scampi: Who cares? That’s what I say.

Peter: You certainly do.


Scampi: Yeehaw!

Peter: My head. It spins.

Scampi: That’s not your normal sentence structure. Are you okay?

Peter: [dubiously] I suppose.

Scampi: Here we are, the kings of supposition. And no electric lightbulbs, to boot.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: That could be cathartic. Electric lightbulb-booting.

Peter: There is no need for violence.

Scampi: What about violins?

Peter: Well, yes. Violins yes.

Scampi: A full string section, of course.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: So you wouldn’t say, Ah history, the giant bloodstain?

Peter: I have never said such a thing.

Scampi: I have.

Peter: We are all aware of this.

Scampi: Good, good. This is an awareness program, after all.


Scampi: Speaking of which, garrigue.

Peter: What’s that?

Scampi: Garrigue.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: Do you know what that is?

Peter: Uh.

Scampi: Do you?

Peter: Not particularly.

Scampi: Scrub.

Peter: What?

Scampi: That’s what it is. Low-lying scrub. You know, like foliage. In the Mediterranean Basin.

Peter: Ah, the basin.

Scampi: Scrubs and shrubs. They change the taste of the air and the taste of the wine.

Peter: Ahem.

Scampi: A covering over the hills, running down to the sea.

Peter: I know what scrub is.

Scampi: One wouldn’t think so, to look at your neck.

Peter: I bristle at such remarks.

Scampi: I can see that.


Scampi: I couldn’t get out of bed today.

Peter: Oh.

Scampi: Or perhaps I could. I can’t remember.

Peter: We all have beds. And difficulties.

Scampi: I suppose if this is a dream, I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. How shall I tell?

Peter: I thought we had abandoned this line of inquiry.

Scampi: You would say that, as a dream-figment. Trying to throw me off the scent.

Peter: Consciousness is not a children’s mystery novel.

Scampi: There’s no need to be so severe about everything. It’s not The Pilgrim’s Progress either, you know.

Peter: I am not a puritan.

Scampi: Don’t tell me. Tell them.

Peter: Who?

Scampi: I dunno.

Peter: Oh.

Scampi: You seem a trifle skittish.

Peter: [skittishly] I am not.

Scampi: Mm. It seems darker.

Peter: It?

Scampi: The world. The weather.

Peter: We are preparing for a healthy bout of condensation, I would say.

Scampi: I concur.


Scampi: Will we ever be heroes, Peter?

Peter: Why would we want to be heroes?

Scampi: Why wouldn’t we?

pt 37: CAMELOT

Scampi: Each year, from December to December.


Peter quoth: Hark!  I have slain the evil sorceress who liveth at the edge of the forest.


Scampi: That wasn’t very nice.


Peter quoth: Nay, but for that I slew her with my goodness and incomparable beauty.


Scampi: Oh.


Peter quoth: She knew me not.  I blinded her with white light, that she could not look upon my face.


Scampi: Who do you think you are?  Sir Galahad?


Peter: No.  I don’t talk like that.


Scampi: I suppose all good things must come to an end.


Peter: Yes.  Especially when they are works of fiction.