Scampi: What’s between the water and the air?
Peter: Club soda?
Scampi: Was that a joke?
Scampi: I don’t know what you have to be so cheerful about these days. Jesus H.
Scampi: You might think we’re between the water and the air, but we aren’t.
Peter: Duly noted.
Scampi: You’re not even listening to me.
Peter: My apologies. Please, continue this nonsensical babble.
Scampi: Now, take chalk. Are you with me?
Scampi: Yes! Calcium.
Peter: [stage whispering] Is that a secret?
Peter: Why are you speaking of calcium in this manner?
Scampi: We’re talking about chalk.
Peter: Ahem. Calcium carbonate.
Scampi: I was getting to that.
Peter: I see.
Scampi: Right. You know when you can see the air do that shimmering thing, because of the heat?
Scampi: Well, what do you think of that?
Peter: I believe it would qualify as cliché, if it appeared in print.
Scampi: Print? What are you talking about?
Peter: Literary mores.
Scampi: What do you know about it? Anyway, I was talking about the weather.
Peter: Please, do not let me impede your progress.
Scampi: When it’s so hot that the air doesn’t move, right? What do you think about that?
Peter: That sounds very warm.
Scampi: Of course it’s warm. Peter.
Scampi: Is that all?
Peter: I am unsure as to what is being demanded at the present moment.
Scampi: What do you think of doves?
Peter: I approve of them.
Scampi: Without reservation?
Peter: [serious thought] Yes.
Scampi: You know the way if you mix pigment you get like, black or brown, but if you mix light you don’t?
Peter: That is one way of putting it.
Scampi: The cliffs of Dover are made of chalk.
Scampi: Not like us.
Peter: It is true that we are not composed of chalk.
Scampi: Are you sure?
Scampi: [craftily] Well, then, what are we composed of?
Scampi: A coward’s explanation.
Peter: Pardon me?
Scampi: What do you think about planets?
Peter: They are spherical in nature.
Scampi: [knowingly] They aren’t the only ones.
Peter: What are you suggesting?
Scampi: It’s very clear. Like the view from the cliffs.
Peter: Have you visited in Dover?
Scampi: What does that have to do with anything?
Scampi: I’ve been all around this world, mister. Like the moons of Jupiter.
Peter: I am not sure I grasp the analogy.
Scampi: Ha. Quel surprise.
Scampi: [conciliatory] You have an affinity for the natural sciences, of course.
Scampi: Don’t deny it, Peter.
Peter: Well, we must begin by,
Scampi: Begin – nothing.
Peter: I see.
Scampi: I’m sure your trundled carapace hides the heart of an astronomer. A seasick lordling, teetering amidships.
Peter: I am confused.
Scampi: In what sense?
Scampi: Right: Reformation, Renaissance. Wars, Second World; Napoleonic. See?
Peter: Are you obliquely referring to England in an attempt to make me feel more comfortable?
SCAMPI WHISTLES LIKE A BLUEBIRD.
Scampi: How are you today?
Peter: I am well.
Peter: Thank you. And you?
Scampi: Oh yes. Yeah, bigtime.
Scampi: The thing is, if you don’t know what medium you’re working with, you can’t know if it will turn out brown or not.
Scampi: I have been mixing all the colours at my disposal for quite some time now.
Peter: Well, good for you.
Scampi: But I don’t know if I’m building a blanched sheet of prismic perfection, or a mud puddle.
Peter: A quandary, to be sure.
Scampi: Are you paying attention to me?
Peter: It certainly appears that way.
Peter: With all due respect.
Scampi: (Oh, this’ll be good.)
Peter: You do seem to have a fondness for mud puddles.
Scampi: So what?
Peter: A simple observation.
Scampi: You and your observations.
Scampi: Such a scientist.
Peter: There is nothing wrong with science.
Scampi: There is nothing wrong with anything.
Scampi: Until the perfect view is destroyed by one’s presence in it.
Scampi: Do you know what I’m saying to you?
Peter: I believe I do.