Scampi: Peter, what do you have to say about love?


Peter: Pardon me?


Scampi: Oh, cross that out.


Peter: LOVE.


Scampi: Or, you know what, just leave it.


Peter: Make up your mind.


Scampi: Well, I’m trying.




Scampi: Don’t make those dubious noises at me.  Or, at any rate, what do you think about fishing trips?


Peter: What fishing trips?


Scampi: You know, like the ones you take with your dad.


Peter: I don’t take any fishing trips with my dad.


Scampi: Obviously.  But if you did.


Peter: I don’t.


Scampi: I know.  But some people do that kind of thing.


Peter: I don’t know anything about it.


Scampi: Yes you do.


Peter: Noo.


Scampi: It’s common knowledge, everyone knows that.


Peter: Everyone who?


Scampi: Stop being so preposterous.  I know you know.  (aside) Peter knows.  He does.


Peter: Who are you talking to?


Scampi: To whom.


Peter: What?


Scampi: Pardon?


Peter: SIGHS.


Scampi: So, you don’t want to talk about male bonding excursions.  That’s fine.  That leaves us with a) the weather and / or b) our foundering humanity.


Peter: Jesus Christ.


Scampi: Oh, right.  That’s c) religion.


Peter: It’s raining.


Scampi: I don’t believe you.


Peter: It is currently raining.


Scampi: What, right now?


Peter: Yes.  Currently.


Scampi: What a know-it-all you are.




Scampi: You know what that is?


Peter: A pair of shoes.


Scampi: No, no.


Peter: It appears to be a pair of shoes.


Scampi: No, the rain.


Peter: Ah, so you’ve acknowledged it’s raining.


Scampi: Pathetic fallacy.  That’s what it is.


Peter: I prefer to think of it as precipitation.


Scampi: How precipitous!


Peter: Or condensation.


Scampi: How condescending!


Peter: Is this going to be all about your inability to accept science?


Scampi: Don’t tell fibs, Peter.  Fibbing forms no portion of the scientific method.


Peter: For the last time, stop calling me a liar.


Scampi: At the risk of unduly upsetting you, may I point out that this is very likely not the last time you will make that statement?




Scampi: Your arms are all akimbo.  Maybe you should have a bath.


Peter: Yes.  Maybe.


Scampi: In any event, maybe we should focus on finding an umbrella.


Peter: Figuratively?


Scampi: If you like.



Scampi: Remember when we saw that man with two umbrellas?

Peter: Perhaps.

Scampi: And we were like, Why does he have two umbrellas? It’s not even raining.

Peter: Why did he have two umbrellas?

Scampi: Maybe he was carrying an umbrella to his wife.

Peter: What a gentleman.

Scampi: That’s right.


Scampi: His wife was at home in the gazebo with no umbrellas, waiting.

Peter: I suppose that is a possibility.

Scampi: Why not?

Peter: Indeed.

Scampi: I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.  Does it?

Peter: Doubtless, there are more painful trials to be withstood than carrying an extra umbrella.

Scampi: I’ll say.

Peter: That was a good day.

Scampi: Why do you say that?

Peter: I do not know. Making conversation?

Scampi: Humph.


Scampi: Remember how I thought perhaps he was carrying his extra umbrella to his former self in case it rained on them both in the future?

Peter: That does sound familiar.  I suppose.

Scampi: Yes. We arm ourselves against the future.  We arm ourselves in solidarity with the past, even as we poke it with the sharp butts of our umbrellas.

Peter: We do?

Scampi: We do.  We have like, seventeen umbrellas.  Jesus Christ.  We’re like a goddam umbrella emporium around here.

Peter: You seem agitated.

Scampi: Oh ho! I wonder what’s giving you that idea!

Peter: Well,

Scampi: The notions you entertain, my friend.  Positively outlandish.

Peter: Well, you do seem a trifle – vigorous.

Scampi: Join the living, Peter.  We are a vigorous tribe.

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: Don’t look so put off.  You adore the filthy universe.

Peter: Please do not speak of the universe in this way.

Scampi: You love it.

Peter: I confess, I do.

Scampi: Good.  Good.


Scampi: Imagine.

Peter: Yes?

Scampi: Two hundred years from now, or something, some lady’s waiting for you in the gazebo.  Waiting for some raingear to greet the day.

Peter: This is some sort of whimsical temporal jaunt, I take it?

Scampi: You certainly do. Throw an extra anorak in your satchel and embrace the future!

Peter: Ahem.

Scampi: Is your throat sore?

Peter: Not quite.

Scampi: Excellent.  We should carry extra lunches.

Peter: Are we carrying any lunches?

Scampi: We might be.  Who doesn’t like lunch?

Peter: Late risers, perhaps.

Scampi: No, no.  Late risers simply prefer late lunches.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: We will carry extra lunches for our future selves.  And extra socks.  And extra brains!

Peter: I am not following this tangent.

Scampi: It’s not a tangent.  It’s a sidestep.


Scampi: Have you had too much sun?

Peter: No.

Scampi: Are you sure?

Peter: Yes.

Scampi: I think you’ve had too much sun.

Peter: Good for you.

Scampi: Thank you.


Scampi: Would you like this parasol?

Peter: [alarmed] Where did you get that?

Scampi: [SHRUGS.]

Peter: I suppose a little shade would not go amiss.

Scampi: Go on.

Peter: Thank you.

Scampi: Any time.

Peter: What was that?

Scampi: You heard me.

Peter: Mm.

Scampi: Let’s just sit for a while.

Peter: If you insist.

Scampi: The pond is so still.

Peter: Pond!

Scampi: It’s right in front of you.

Peter: Yes.  It is.

Scampi: Look at the surface.  Glassy.

Peter: I didn’t know there was a pond here.

Scampi: There is.

Peter: [drawls] Lovely afternoon.

Scampi: Rather.

Peter: Shall we stay here a while, do you think?

Scampi: Certainly.  Just until yesterday.