pt 142: LOONS

Scampi: What saint looks after lovers?

Peter: Ah yes, the lives of the saints.

Scampi: There’s no need to be such a sourpuss.

Peter: This again.

Scampi: Says you. You know, we used to have two moons?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: One for each of us. ‘Cause we didn’t want to share.

Peter: What’s that?

Scampi: Nothing. Jupiter’s got lots.

Peter: Of moons? Certainly.

Scampi: No, for parking in.

PAUSE.

Scampi: [hums] Tell me old shipmates I’m takin’ a trip, mates.

Peter: How folksy.

Scampi: I am a volksmensch, after all. Imagine looking up at the sky and seeing two moons.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: Of course, this isn’t very interesting for you. You probably look up at the sky and see two moons all the time. After a sufficient quantity of wine.

Peter: Indeed, this is not the case.

Scampi: Ooh, indeed. Tra-la-la.

PAUSE.

Scampi: I mean, maybe it wouldn’t make any difference. What do I know?

Peter: You seem to know a great deal about making noise.

Scampi: You would say that. That’s a precise example of something you would say.

Peter: I did say it.

Scampi: Typical.

Peter: No doubt you will now treat me to a delightful series of infantile musings – “Peter, pray tell me why is the sky blue? How deep is the ocean?”

Scampi: First of all – oh wait, and secondly, I bet you have no idea how deep the ocean is. And firstly, the sky is not blue.

Peter: Thank you for sharing this fresh take on chronology with me.

Scampi: That’s right.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You’ve never really shown a huge interest in sharks. Would you say that’s fair comment?

Peter: I am not certain what this sort of judgment is intended to procure.

Scampi: Procure? What are you, a drygoods store?

Peter: I am not.

Scampi: Yes, I’d like a bolt of blue poplin and a pound of flour, please.

Peter: I am not a drygoods store.

Scampi: You know, most people don’t have the occasion to make such protestations.

Peter: I agree.

Scampi: It’s a little suspicious, don’t you think? That you feel the need to deny being a drygoods store?

Peter: Be that as it may, I am still most emphatically not a drygoods store.

Scampi: Well, whatever makes you feel comfortable. If you’d rather be thought of as a greengrocer, or what have you, I’m perfectly prepared to accommodate your manly whims.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: Maybe it wouldn’t be that different. Two moons. Herds of brontosaurs chomping at will.

Peter: What connection does the apatosaurus have with the extra moon you’ve been bewailing all afternoon?

Scampi: Aftermoon. That’s what they should call this era.

Peter: You are a little geologist.

Scampi: That I am. I am imagining if the world was slightly different. Only slightly.

Peter: With two moons and one herd of thundering herbivorous lizards?

Scampi: Well, sure. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference.

Peter: The tides might be different.

Scampi: But not the tides of our LIVES.

Peter: Good lord.

Scampi: You wake up one morning, right? Two moons are just fading from the white sky. Your wife is not in bed next to you because she is gone. She’s gone off to Kentucky to sit and strum the mandolin under the blue moons with some guy who isn’t you.

Peter: This is quite the tale.

Scampi: What’s a brontosaur here or there compared to your broken heart? That’s what I’d like to know.

Peter: My heart is not broken.

Scampi: What?

Peter: [abashed] My heart is not broken.

Scampi: Peter.

Peter: Yes?

Scampi: Don’t fib.

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pt 66: SKILSAW, BIRDSONG

Scampi: The days are growing longer now, Peter.

Peter: Indeed they are.

Scampi: I’ve noticed this isn’t doing much for you.

Peter: What’s that supposed to mean?

Scampi: Well, the light, you know, the longer-lit days. It isn’t doing much for your outlook.

Peter: Why should it?

Scampi: Why shouldn’t it?

Peter: I refuse to engage in this childish match of table tennis.

Scampi: You would.

Peter: There’s a hole in my trousers.

Scampi: It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Peter: It has.

Scampi: That looks mendable. No fear, Peter: help is on the way.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: Sure. What’s that high, buzzing noise?

Peter: What?

Scampi: Can’t you hear it?

Peter: No. I cannot.

Scampi: You can’t hear that?

Peter: I told you so.

Scampi: Well, I can. It’s very frustrating.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Ugh.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Ah, there. It’s stopped.

Peter: Congratulations.

Scampi: How come I could hear it and you couldn’t?

Peter: Perhaps this has to do with our temporal locations.

Scampi: Huh?

Peter: I’m suggesting.

Scampi: Because I’m ten hours and fifteen minutes away from you, you mean?

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: I don’t see why that has to get in the way.

Peter: [SIGHS.] Okay.

Scampi: Do you see what I see?

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: A star, a star!

Peter: I don’t see it.

Scampi: Shining in the night, with a tail as big as a kite!

Peter: Oh god.

Scampi: Precisely. Bam BA bam BA, da da da da DA, da da DA bam BA bam bam BA!

Peter: Aahh.

Scampi: [humming happily] Do you know what I know?

Peter: I can’t even imagine.

Scampi: Oh, Peter. What a burden.

Peter: [tightly] I assure you, I am in perfect spirits.

Scampi: Perfection without imagination? Where’s the spirit there?

Peter: You misconstrue.

Scampi: I do. You misrepresent.

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: I like the song, but I don’t like the volume.

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: That’s right. The noise of the music is cluttering the music itself.

Peter: What music?

Scampi: The music in my ear.

Peter: Oh.

Scampi: You see?

Peter: I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.

Scampi: I’m sure you’ll think of something. Eventually.

Peter: I am so tired.

Scampi: I know you are, Peter. I’m tired, too.

Peter: Hm.

Scampi: We could have some coffee.

Peter: Maybe later.

Scampi: Okay.

Peter: I have always loved the view from this window.

Scampi: The light is clear.

Peter: Clearly what?

Scampi: See-through. You can see all the way down to the water.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: Feel free to sit a while.

Peter: Thank you. I shall.

pt 111: FUITE EN AVANT

Scampi: Forfooth!

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: Forfooth!  Haw haw.

Peter: I am not following.

Scampi: Get it?

Peter: Fourth hoof?

Scampi: On a tri-legged horse.  Ha.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: No, no.  “My fweete lady!”

Peter: Tweet?

Scampi: FWEET.

PETER STARES BLANKLY.

Scampi: See, the effs are esses.  Get it?

Peter: No.

Scampi: In an old-fashioned song. I am being a classical text.

Peter: Oh, of course.  A classical text.

Scampi: Look.

SCAMPI SPELLS IT OUT FOR POOR, SLOW PETER.

Peter: What are you saying about me?

Scampi: Nothing.  I haven’t said a thing.

Peter: I suspect this is untrue.

Scampi: Suspect?  Did you hear me say anything?

Peter: Not quite.

Scampi: Well then.

PAUSE.

Scampi: In the classical days, all the effs were esses.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: I mean, the other way around.  Are you even listening to me?

Peter: Yes.  My attention is currently centred on your fascinating discourse.

Scampi: Thank you.

Peter: YAWNS.

Scampi: How rude.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Did you know, it’s polite to cover your gigantic maw when you yawrp like that?

Peter: Oh, do excuse me.  You are, as usual, a beacon of social grace in the wild darkness of my neverending font of sloth.

Scampi: I certainly am.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Yes.  Today I feel like a hundred pieces of myself.  Like each of the leaves on the trees.  Which are falling.  The leaves are, I mean.  The trees are not.

Peter: What trees?

Scampi: The trees in the park, of course.

Peter: Ah yes.  They are not falling.

Scampi: No, they are not.  Unless you’re planning to chop them down.  I wouldn’t put it past you.

Peter: That was not a part of my plans.

Scampi: Really?

Peter: Really.

Scampi: So, you have plans?

Peter: What do you mean?

Scampi: You just said you did.

Peter: Did I?

Scampi: You said, “This was not part of my plans, to cut them parky trees down”.

Peter: Ahem.  I do not believe those were my exact words.

Scampi: That was the meat of it.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: So, you have plans.  As you said yourself.

Peter: In an unspecific fashion, I suppose.

Scampi: What are you planning?

Peter: Uh.

Scampi: A coup d’état?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Oh, can I be in it?

Peter: I am not planning a coup.

Scampi: I would be great in it.

Peter: Doubtless.

Scampi: I could make all the posters.  I am very competent in bubble and three-dimensional lettering techniques.

Peter: Competent in bubble?

Scampi: Bubble letters.  They look like balloons.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: As you well know.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Sometimes I have a great urge to stare up at the night sky.

Peter: Well, don’t let me stop you.

Scampi: From what?

Peter: Observing the dome of heaven.

Scampi: At night.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: But it’s not night.

Peter: You are correct: it is not night.

Scampi: This makes it hard to see the stars.

Peter: You are chock-full of keen observations today.

Scampi: Who made you the big expert?

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: Oh, nothing.  What are you doing tonight?

Peter: I’m busy.

Scampi: Want to observe the stars through the fractal trees?

Peter: I believe this is a misuse of the word “fractal”.

Scampi: You would.

PAUSE.

Scampi: It’s kaleidoscopic, how I feel.

Peter: Perhaps you should sit down.

Scampi: Perhaps I can feel your heartbeat.

Peter: This is highly unlikely, from across the room.

Scampi: We aren’t in a room.

Peter: I thought we were.

Scampi: I don’t think we are.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: We are in a field.

Peter: This is implausible.

Scampi: A field of stones.

Peter: A quarry?

Scampi: How dark.

Peter: You have something against quarries?

Scampi: Don’t you?  With a name like Peter.

Peter: No.

Scampi: What do you think the difference is, do you think?

Peter: I do.

Scampi: I mean the difference between the rocks being made and the rocks being broken.

Peter: [boomingly] Perhaps they are one and the same.

Scampi: There’s no need to narrate like that.  Perhaps they are one and the same.

Peter: I was not disagreeing.

Scampi: Sure, sure.  Like a broken plate.

Peter: I am like a broken plate?

Scampi: No, the mess is the same.  The mess of the pieces on the kitchen floor, and the mess of the plate when it was whole.

Peter: Pottery is a messy business.

Scampi: Ceramics.

Peter: A skilled trade.

Scampi: This whole thing.  It’s a messy business.

PAUSE.

Scampi: It’s a mess, Peter.

Peter: You seem agitated.

PAUSE.

Peter: Is it really necessary to stare like that?

Scampi: In fact, it is.

pt 90: WHAT THE STARS LOOK LIKE

Scampi: Takin’ it easy on a Sunday!

Peter: It isn’t Sunday.

Scampi: Who cares?

Peter: I do.

Scampi: Why?  It doesn’t matter.

Peter: In that case, why did you say that?

Scampi: It’s just something I wanted to say.  It doesn’t matter what day it is.

Peter: If it doesn’t matter what day it is, then I don’t see why you had to mention the day.  That it isn’t.

Scampi: Peter!

Peter: Lower your voice.

Scampi: Come on.  It can be whatever day we want.

Peter: That is incorrect.

Scampi: No, it isn’t.

Peter: It is.

Scampi: Nope.  Isn’t.

Peter: It has to be the day that it is.

Scampi: Oh really?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Interesting.  So, what day is it?

Peter: I –

Scampi: Ha!  Foiled again!

Peter: Really.

Scampi: I like to think that we’re sitting on some lawn chairs.  You know.  On the porch, on the lawn.  Howsoever it may be.

Peter: Right now?

Scampi: Right now.  Sitting in our Muskoka chairs, our Adirondack chairs.  The low buzz of insects.

Peter: What sort of insects?

Scampi: Oh, Mr Inquisitive!

Peter: [offended] I was taking a polite interest.

Scampi: That’ll be the day.

PAUSE.

Scampi: We’re sitting in the sun.  And the shade.  I mean, we’re not being assaulted by the sun, but it’s sunny out.  What do you think of that?

Peter: I hope I am wearing a hat.

Scampi: Yes, yes.  It’s all taken care of.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: You’re reading the paper.  No, I’m reading the paper.  I’m reading all the weird bits aloud.  To you.  It’s starting to get on your nerves.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: You see what I’m saying?

Peter: Suburban life has its trials and tribulations.

Scampi: No!

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: You were there with me!  That’s what I’m saying.

Peter: Where?

Scampi: With the paper.  And the reading and the sun and shade.  And the insects.

Peter: I was not.  I was here.

Scampi: But you thought you were there.

Peter: Untrue.

Scampi: Oh, for a moment.

PAUSE.

Scampi: How many constellations do you know?

Peter: Personally?

Scampi: No, no.  Like, how many can you tell what they are?

Peter: Several.

Scampi: Like what?

Peter: That’s the Big Dipper.

Scampi: In Ireland they called it The Plough.

Peter: Oh.

Scampi: It’s true.

Peter: Did I say that I disbelieved you?

Scampi: You implied it.

Peter: In what way?

Scampi: With your tone.

Peter: A simple misinterpretation of my tone on your behalf, I assure you.

Scampi: Oh, right.

Peter: Don’t antagonise me.

Scampi: I wasn’t.

Peter: Fine.

PAUSE.

Scampi: The plow.  Furrows and furlongs.  What else?

Peter: I am not an expert on farming.

Scampi: What about astronomy?

Peter: There is the lure of celestial bodies, to be sure.

Scampi: Yes.  Like Tycho Brahe.

Peter: What about him?

Scampi: The Swedish astronomer with the golden nose.  (Or Danish.)

Peter: I am aware of this personage.

Scampi: I know.  I thought we were talking about astronomy.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: What else do you know about him?

Peter: Other than his gilt prosthetic proboscis?

Scampi: Uh huh.

Peter: He worked with Kepler.

Scampi: In Prague.

Peter: I believe so.

Scampi: I can just see it.

Peter: With Kepler, he developed the first three laws of planetary motion.

Scampi: Of course!

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: The heavens!

Peter: I’m not sure what you mean.

Scampi: They probably looked up a lot and said things like, “the heavens”.

Peter: Uh.  Possibly.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Oh sorry.

Peter: Hm?

Scampi: I thought that was your hand.

Peter: No.

Scampi: Do you feel smaller?

Peter: Than what?

Scampi: Looking at the stars?

Peter: No.

Scampi: You don’t?

Peter: Smaller than a star?

Scampi: Smaller than yourself.

Peter: That is impossible.

Scampi: Is not.

PAUSE.

Scampi: I mean like, smaller than you think of yourself being.  This is a commonly understood concept.

Peter: That is no defence of its veracity, methinks.

Scampi: Showoff.

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: Oh, look: a shooting star.

Peter: I did not see it.

Scampi: Really?

Peter: Truly.

Scampi: Yeah.

PAUSE.

Scampi: I didn’t see it either.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: I wanted to say that, though.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Anyway, there might’ve been one.

Peter: I suppose.

Scampi: Of course there could have.  It has to be possible.

Peter: That a shooting star could exist?

Scampi: Sure.

Peter: Okay.

Scampi: We inhabit a garden of possibilities, Peter.

Peter: You are fond of repeating this.

Scampi: It’s true.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: I put the paper down on the grass.  We are looking out at that gorgeous sunset.

Peter: We are lost out here.

Scampi: With the stars.

pt 116: AUTUMN LEAVES

Scampi: I have a few things to tell you.

Peter: I’m busy.

Scampi: Well, I have a few things to tell you anyway.

Peter: Is that the case?

Scampi: Yes.  Feeling defensive?

Peter: Is this one of the things you had to tell me?

Scampi: No.  It was a question.

Peter: I can sense a headache approaching.

Scampi: Well, change seats.

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: If you can’t see the show, you know.  Switch seats.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Anyway, there are some Spanish expressions involving mules.  Did you know that?

Peter: I confess that it does not surprise me.

Scampi: Well ceded.

Peter: I ceded nothing.

Scampi: For a change.  Do you know what the expressions are?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Really?

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: One is ‘burro de Caleta’.  You know what that means?

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: It means you’re drunk all the time.

Peter: Pardon me?

Scampi: The expression.  It’s about a beer-fed mule.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Obviously, if you were a mule who hung around drinking beer all day, you’d be drunk.

Peter: Obviously.

Scampi: I like to think we’re making progress here.

Peter: In what sense?

Scampi: I don’t know.  I don’t think it’s true, in any event.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: I’m just sampling, you know.  From an array of available platitudes.

Peter: I heartily approve of this program.

Scampi: Oh, good.

Peter: I did not say that.

Scampi: Yes, you did.

Peter: In no way, shape, or form did I make that statement.

Scampi: Oh, right.  Who said it then?

Peter: No one said it.

Scampi: If no one said it, then what are we talking about?

Peter: That is illogical.

Scampi: I’m sure you’d like to think so.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Let’s put down blankets and bivouac here.

Peter: Right here?

Scampi: Why not?

Peter: I suppose.

Scampi: That’s right.  We can watch the stars rattle.

Peter: Stars do not rattle.  Rattling is not a property of gaseous entities.

Scampi: Ha!  You should look in the mirror.

Peter: What?

Scampi: Oh, nothing.  I want to lie down.

Peter: Very well.

Scampi: We’re in Georgia.  Did you know?

Peter: We are?

Scampi: Yes.

Peter: Which Georgia?

Scampi: The one that’s on our way.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: We’re here for the peaches.  We’re here to sleep.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Your hair grows faster while you’re sleeping.

Peter: Incorrect.

Scampi: Pah.  You’d like to think so.

Peter: You are taking a very cavalier attitude toward scientific facts today.

Scampi: That’s right.  Scientific facts are welcome to hop on for a canter.  We cavaliers like to see the world!

Peter: Go to bed.

Scampi: What are you talking about?

Peter: I hope you’re not waiting for me to fall asleep.

Scampi: I don’t care if you do or if you don’t.

Peter: Fine.  I intend to remain lucid a while longer.

Scampi: Lucid!  You wish.

Peter: You are tired.  Sleep.

Scampi: You’re tired, yourself.

Peter: I am.

Scampi: And cold.  Have a sweater?

Peter: Hm?

Scampi: It’s wool.  It will keep you warm.

Peter: Thank you.

Scampi: No problem.

Peter: Good night, Scampi.

Scampi: Good night, Peter.

pt 103: ESTUARIES

Peter: And then, while no one was looking, Jupiter’s belts disappeared.

Scampi: You said that before.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: How do you know no one was looking?

Peter: I am a busy man.

Scampi: Oh yes.  We are all well aware.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Do you know what a skipjack is?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Oh, really?

Peter: Yees.

Scampi: It’s a boat on the Chesapeake.

Peter: Ah, yes.

Scampi: Used for oystering.  Because no one uses sailboats any more for work.

Peter: I beg to differ.

Scampi: Beggars can’t be choosers.  An oyster boat’s a sailboat.  That’s what I’m saying.  A skipjack.

Peter: There is no denying the facts, ma’am.

Scampi: Just the facts, Pete.  Pewter.

Peter: Ah, the world of alloys.

Scampi: Yes.  It’s a jungle out there.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Peder Oxe.

Peter: Hm?

Scampi: Imagine if you were Peder Oxe.

PETER LOWS.

Scampi: Not Peter-the-Ox.

Peter: Of course not.

Scampi: What do you think of the future?  Of humanism?

Peter: As opposed to the oxen-based economy?

Scampi: No, really.

Peter: I consider myself a humanist.

Scampi: What?  Is that true?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Oh.

PAUSE.

Scampi: The ceiling is too low.

Peter: I am unconcerned.

Scampi: For a change.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: There isn’t enough room.

Peter: For the future of humanism?

Scampi: For the present.

Peter: Well, don’t let me hinder your progress.

Scampi: Oh, of course.  Progress.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: You know a synonym for present?

Peter: Uh.  Here?

Scampi: Gift.

PAUSE.

Scampi: You are squandering it.

Peter: And what are you doing?

Scampi: Waiting.

pt 127: BEFORE THE CITY FELL, WHEN WE LOVED ONE ANOTHER

Scampi: Are you aware of how the twits of Russia felt about poetry?

Peter: I did not realise that you harboured a dislike for Russians.

Scampi: What?

Peter: Do you have something against Russians?

Scampi: I love our Russki brethren.  I was referring to the Soviet jerks.

Peter: Who?

Scampi: Sending poets off to the gulag for what?  Being decadent and metaphysical.  What do you think about that?

Peter: That is truly unfortunate.

Scampi: Unctuous words on troubled waters.

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: I hope I’m not being too decadent and metaphysical for you, Herr Kommandant.

Peter: That is not Russian.

Scampi: What a linguist you are today.  Boy oh boy.

Peter: [SNIFFS DELICATELY, LIKE A VICTORIAN LADY]

Scampi: Ho, ho.

Peter: What is the joke, pray tell?

Scampi: Oh, nothing.

PAUSE.

Peter: Where did we go wrong?

A SPOON CLATTERS TO THE FLOOR.

Scampi: We you and me?  Or we the human race?

Peter: Let’s start small.  We us.

Scampi: E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle!

Peter: I do not know what that means.

Scampi: Do you know what Dante means?

Peter: You behave as though I mistake myself for a classical scholar.

Scampi: You behave as though you mistake yourself for a classical scholar.

PAUSE.

Scampi: “And then we emerged to see the stars again.”

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: To gaze upon the stars.

Peter: A noble pursuit, no doubt.

Scampi: You say that as though there were doubt involved.

Peter: This was unintentional.

Scampi: It’s all unintentional.  That’s the problem.

Peter: This could be a problem.

Scampi: It certainly could.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: You have seen the stars before, I presume?

Peter: The stars?

Scampi: Viz., the constellations.  Such as Andromeda.

Peter: Hm?

Scampi: It is permitted to see the stars.

Peter: Lovely.

Scampi: Yes.  The Andromeda Galaxy is very far away.

Peter: Correct.

Scampi: Technically.

Peter: I believe it is also very far away in layman’s terms.

Scampi: What would you call a collision with the Milky Way?  In layman’s terms.

Peter: Well.  Although I am not an astronomer.

Scampi: You know who’s an astronomer?

Peter: A number of persons are astronomers.

Scampi: Says you.  Abd el-Rahman al-Sufi.  That’s who.

Peter: Are you trying to hint at something?

Scampi: Preposterous.

Peter: If you’ll excuse me, there seems to be a theme here.

Scampi: Themes, my friend, are one thing.  Hinting, on the other hand, is not my strong suit.

Peter: [LAUGHS].

Scampi: Humph.  You know, I don’t picture you looking at the stars.

Peter: I can look at the stars as well as the next man.

Scampi: It’s got nothing to do with looking well.

Peter: Thank you for keeping me aware of your fascinating world view.

Scampi: A man could die and leave all his letters behind.

Peter: This is something that could happen.

Scampi: In the pockets of the populace.  A man could die and have his letters burned in Vienna.

Peter: These are all possibilities.

Scampi: How do you feel about your correspondence being published in the paper?

Peter: [alarmed] Is my correspondence being published in the paper?

Scampi: No.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: I mean at some future date.

Peter: I have nothing to hide.

Scampi: Oh ho!

PETER GLOWERS.

Scampi: The milky circles over our heads.

Peter: Haloes?

Scampi: If you like.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Can you fly?

Peter: [sharply] Why would ask that?

Scampi: I dunno.  Just curious.

Peter: I have no idea why you would imagine that I could fly.

Scampi: I was just asking.  Pigeons can fly.

Peter: That has been determined.

Scampi: We’ve all been determined.  Some time.

Peter: I suppose.

Scampi: But have we all been pigeons at some point?

Peter: No.

Scampi: How can you be so sure?

Peter: We have not been pigeons.

Scampi: But we have been stars.