clouds

pt 92 ½: METEORS

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Scampi: But I get the feeling it is.  See?

Peter: I am absently thinking to myself.

Scampi: What?

Peter: I said nothing.

Scampi: Who said that then?

Peter: I don’t know.

Scampi: You are absently thinking to yourself.  I can tell.

Peter: Well, well.

Scampi: Change is in the air.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: But what does it mean?  What does it mean?

Peter: You have had the occasion to repeat yourself excessively of late.

Scampi: So what?

Peter: A prime example.

Scampi: There you go again.  Obsessed with primacy.

Peter: This is untrue.

Scampi: And why should I take your word for it?

Peter: Because I’m right.

Scampi: Oh, sure.  The primate, that’s you.

Peter: We are all primates, of a sort.

Scampi: An orangutan in a fancy hat.  Some aspiration.

Peter: Excuse me?

Scampi: The clouds are tumbling in.  Like mats in a gymnasium.

Peter: The weather, I might point out, is not our fault.

Scampi: Heresy!

Peter: Meteorology.

Scampi: If the elements can turn, we can turn.

Peter: Around?

Scampi: Into something else.  We can become something new.

Peter: Are you suggesting we ought to be shiftier?

Scampi: I’m not suggesting anything.  Not a thing.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: Something new can be constructed.  Up from the ground.

Peter: As long as the appropriate architectural plans have been drawn up beforehand, of course.

Scampi: Oh, of course.

Peter: What is the cause of this bitterness?

Scampi: What bitterness?

Peter: You object to architecture?  Or to plans?

Scampi: What a question!  What questions!

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: I just want us to be ready.

Peter: For what?

Scampi: Precisely.

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pt 56: BUILDINGS

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Scampi: Peter?

Peter: That is my name.  How may I help you?

Scampi: Oh, I don’t know.  I’m just wondering some stuff.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: I’m looking at this stunning view.

Peter: Are you?

Scampi: Well, I was two days ago.

Peter: Oh.

Scampi: I was looking at this stunning view.  A crane in a construction pit.

Peter: Okay.

Scampi: It was more than okay, boy.

Peter: If you say so.

Scampi: I do say so.  Don’t pretend you didn’t see the cumulus.  I know you did.  I have proof.

Peter: You’re right.  I saw the cumulus.

Scampi: I know you did.  Was that not the most beautiful thing?

Peter: It was very nice.

Scampi: It was freaking massive, my friend.

Peter: The clouds were large.

Scampi: The sky was the colour of a kindergartner’s coral necklace.  Come on, Peter.

Peter: What?

Scampi: Don’t what me.

Peter: Here.

Scampi: Oh, excellent.

PAUSE.

Scampi: Thanks for the coffee.

Peter: The pleasure is all mine.

Scampi: Okay.  So, to sum up, I was looking at the sky.

Peter: I have been getting that impression.

Scampi: It impressed itself upon me.

Peter: Quite.

Scampi: I will maybe remember that sky for the rest of my life.

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: What do you mean, perhaps?

Peter: It might blend itself in with other skies.  Possibly.

Scampi: Jesus.

PETER GENUFLECTS.

Scampi: Hee hee.

Peter: I did not genuflect.

Scampi: Sure, sure.

Peter: I don’t even know how.

Scampi: You heathen.

PAUSE.

Scampi: That sky was beautiful, and I’m in no mood to let it go.

Peter: You may have to, some day.

Scampi: I want it, though.  I want it forever.

Peter: There will be other skies.

Scampi: But only one forever.

pt 48: SMOKING BY THE WINDOW (or COTTON CANDY & RAIN)

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Peter: How am I breaking your heart?

 

Scampi: I dunno.

 

[SOUNDS OF SCHOOLKIDS IN THE ROAD.]

 

Peter: Sometimes we trade our dreams in for other more useful things. Like lunch vouchers.

 

Scampi: I know.

 

Peter: Sometimes we collect things for years, and other times we clean our houses.

 

Scampi: That’s true.

 

Peter: I am feeling emotionally fragile today.

 

Scampi: I can tell that.

 

Peter: Yes.

 

Scampi: The days are getting longer and longer, aren’t they?

 

Peter: They are.

 

Scampi: After we traverse the desert ahead, can we press on to the ocean?

 

Peter: I think that’s a good idea.

 

Scampi: Thanks, Peter.

 

Peter: The next town after this is Muncie.

 

Scampi: Or Carmel.

 

Peter: Yes. Or Carmel.

 

Scampi: Well, do you want to stop in Muncie?

 

Peter: Yes.

 

Scampi: We could have a bottle of wine in a park somewhere.

 

Peter: As long as that doesn’t contravene any, uh –

 

Scampi: Municipal ordinances?

 

Peter: Yes.

 

Scampi: Don’t worry.

 

Peter: It is in my nature.

 

Scampi: I know it is. How far off are we?

 

Peter: An hour. Maybe two.

 

Scampi: Okay.

 

PAUSE.

 

Scampi: Look at those clouds shot through with sunlight.

 

Peter: I noticed them.

 

Scampi: Maybe it’s not you after all. Maybe it’s the clouds.

pt 94: LA TRISTESSE DURERA TOUJOURS

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Scampi: Do you think of yourself as the Executive Officer of this boat?

 

Peter: No. What boat?

 

Scampi: Very interesting.

 

Peter: To which boat are you referring?

 

Scampi: Stop being coy.

 

Peter: [FLUMMOXED.]

 

Scampi: Perhaps if you climbed up the mast, we could see where we were going.

 

Peter: Excuse me?

 

Scampi: You know, like a lookout. From the crow’s nest.

 

Peter: That is hardly necessary.

 

Scampi: That’s what you say now.

 

Peter: Yes. It is.

 

Scampi: There’s no need to be so terse with me.

 

Peter: Oh?

 

Scampi: That’s right. No need whatsoever.

 

PAUSE.

 

Scampi: Look at the sun on the water!

 

Peter: Ah.

 

Scampi: The coruscating wavelets!

 

Peter: Are you quite well?

 

Scampi: Of course I am.

 

Peter: I see.

 

Scampi: The brighter the sun gets, the fluffier the clouds.

 

Peter: Although I by no means give credence to the relationship inferred, I will agree that the sun is bright and the clouds are fluffy.

 

Scampi: Orotund.

 

Peter: Are you speaking about me?

 

Scampi: Of course not. Absurd!

 

Peter: Oh.

 

Scampi: The green trees are waving in a summer breeze. I could almost capitulate.

 

Peter: Figuratively?

 

Scampi: No, to the ice cream vendor.

 

Peter: Is the ice cream truck here?

 

Scampi: No.

 

Peter: Oh.

 

Scampi: If he were, you would have heard the song.

 

Peter: Is that a song?

 

Scampi: It’s a tune, anyway. On top of his van.

 

Peter: I know it well.

 

Scampi: Of course you do.   [SINGS] And when I die, there’ll be one child born…

 

Peter: I declare it a beautiful day for a stroll.

 

Scampi: I concur.

 

PAUSE.

 

Scampi: You know what the sun reminds me of?

 

Peter: What?

 

Scampi: A giant black pit.

 

Peter: Black holes? Are you talking about space?

 

Scampi: No. I am saying that this brightness reminds me of the darkness.

 

Peter: That is the contrarian way.

 

Scampi: It is not!

 

PETER LAUGHS. SCAMPI HURLS HERSELF INTO THE VOID.

 

Peter: Are you all right?

 

Scampi: No, I am all wrong.

 

Peter: What was that?

 

Scampi: It was my attempt at a cartwheel.

 

Peter: Ah.

 

Scampi: “Are you all right?” Blah blah.

 

Peter: Please do not mimic me in this fashion. It is highly distasteful.

 

Scampi: Such a connoisseur, that’s our Peter.

 

Peter: I belong to no one.

 

Scampi: Don’t be so sure.

 

Peter: It looked more like you were attempting to give yourself a concussion. Or at any rate, a contusion.

 

Scampi: The latter object may have been a success, after all.

 

Peter: Are you bleeding?

 

Scampi: None of your beeswax.

 

Peter: This is very disquieting.

 

Scampi: What is?

 

Peter: I simply wished to go for a stroll.

 

Scampi: So? What else is new?

 

Peter: It was not an attempt at novelty.

 

Scampi: One of us has to step up to the plate on that score.

 

Peter: To what end?

 

Scampi: I can’t think.

 

Peter: Why is that?

 

Scampi: Who are you, Sigmund Freud?

 

Peter: No. I am Carl Jung.

 

Scampi: I can’t think any more today.

 

Peter: Might I aver that I would never refer to myself as Carl Jung?

 

Scampi: No.

 

Peter: It has grown rather noisy.

 

Scampi: Let’s run away.

 

Peter: I prefer to walk.

 

Scampi: Don’t I know it.

 

Peter: Are you limping?

 

Scampi: No.