Scampi: I think I was dreaming.

Peter: Oh?

Scampi: Sometimes I can’t tell.  You know.

Peter: I do not know.

Scampi: How do you know?

Peter: I do not.

Scampi: But how do you know that you don’t?

Peter: SIGHS.

Scampi: I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not.  Occasionally.

Peter: What are you suggesting?

Scampi: No need to get so nervous.  I’m just saying.

Peter: I am not nervous.

Scampi: Sure.


Scampi: What do you dream about?

Peter: Peace and quiet.

Scampi: Very funny.  Can’t you remember your dreams?

Peter: I can.

Scampi: Well.  And what are they about?

Peter: This is very tedious.

Scampi: Isn’t.


Scampi: I sometimes feel as if I inhabit a waking fog.

Peter: Perhaps you should have some coffee.

Scampi: That has nothing to do with it.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: I am like a monster of my own creation.  Half-asleep.

Peter: Perhaps you should keep such thoughts to yourself.

Scampi: What’s that supposed to mean?

Peter: Forgive me.  I have a headache.

Scampi: Oh.  Okay.

Peter: Ah.

Scampi: Sorry.

Peter: It’s quite all right.

Scampi: Do you think we are in the dark?

Peter: That would certainly soothe this migraine.

Scampi: We’re in a cave, a bed of leaves.

Peter: Are you suggesting that we are hibernating?

Scampi: Like bears.

Peter: I am not a bear.

Scampi: We have collapsed from the exhaustion of open spaces.

Peter: I wouldn’t say “collapsed”.

Scampi: No, of course not.  You’d just do it.

Peter: I am a human man.

Scampi: An overdose of beauty can be a tricksy thing, Peter.  Beauty and possibilities.

Peter: Which causes you to transform into an apostate ursus experiencing a low degree of consciousness under a rock somewhere?

Scampi: Perhaps.

Peter: I see.

Scampi: There is the question of our animal nature.

Peter: We are bound by the flesh.

Scampi: I don’t know about you.

Peter: Pardon?

Scampi: Oh, nothing.


Scampi: What good is the meadow if one’s mind remains a howling wilderness?

Peter: Do you feel that your mind is a howling wilderness?

Scampi: I feel that my memory of the meadow grows swampy.

Peter: Perhaps you are unwell.

Scampi: What a thing to say!

Peter: Lower your voice.

Scampi: I did.

Peter: Thank you.

Scampi: Maybe we should get some sleep.

Peter: We?

Scampi: I sleep, you sleep.

Peter: This is fundamentally illogical.

Scampi: Is not.  You might as well be sleeping.  If I’m asleep.

Peter: This is not the case.

Scampi: It might as well be.

Peter: SIGHS.


Scampi: Can you hear the sound of running water?

Peter: A leaky faucet?

Scampi: I believe it is the sea.



Scampi: If you are searching for a safe harbour, let me give you some advice.


Peter: What could possibly entice you to believe that I am in need of a harbour?


Scampi: So, you don’t want my advice?


Peter: That is not what I said.


Scampi: So you do want my advice.


Peter: Well,


Scampi: I advise you, most firstly, to identify what it is you wish to be safe from, before you start ferreting around amongst the breakwaters.


Peter: Ahem. I would like to advise you, most firstly –


Scampi: What a strange way of putting things.


Peter: Pardon me?


Scampi: Not that we all couldn’t use a little shelter from the storm. This theme has been rigorously explored in popular song.




Scampi: Don’t try hoaxing me. You know all about it.




Scampi: Oh, are the robins out?


Peter: What’s that?


Scampi: Doctors have been known to do good work.


Peter: Well, yes.


Scampi: Doctor Grenfell, for example.


Peter: Yes.


Scampi: I know that you do not know who that is.


Peter: That is not the accurate statement it purports to be.


Scampi: Purports! What’s that, the noise a tortoise makes when it walks?


Peter: Absurd.


Scampi: Doctor Grenfell worked in Labrador. He was a helper, you know.


Peter: Helping is important.


Scampi: For those who take the Hippopotamus Oaf, it is.


Peter: Now, really.


Scampi: What? What?


Peter: I refuse to rise to this bait.


Scampi: I like how the Hypostatic Oak functions as bait, to you. Such a gulping carp, you are.


Peter: [Hippocratically] I am not a carp.


Scampi: And I am not a hypocrite. Tee hee.




Scampi: Naturally, fish do not have legs.


Peter: Tadpoles do.


Scampi: Tadpoles are not fish. And neither are we, for that matter.


Peter: Fishy.


Scampi: Hee haw. How galvanising. Peter Punster’s back in action!


Peter: That is not my surname.


Scampi: Oh, really?


Peter: Really.


Scampi: What is your surname, then?


Peter: I decline to mention it.


Scampi: Got something to hide, have we?


Peter: No.


Scampi: Trying to be all incognito, I see. Are you looking for work as a private eye, perhaps?


Peter: I am not. Each pronoun is as private as the next, to my way of thinking.


Scampi: Such a clever detective.


Peter: I am not a detective.


Scampi: Agreed. No doubt you are simply looking for a place to rest.


Peter: I?


Scampi: Aye.




Peter: What’s that?


Scampi: Calm down. It’s just the sound of the water.


Peter: What water?


Scampi: Relax. Honestly.


Peter: There is nothing honest about an individual of my temperament engaging in relaxation.


Scampi: [CHORTLES.]


Peter: I do not see what is so terribly funny.


Scampi: This may well be the icing on the cake.




Scampi: You know when you have a thought, and a lightbulb illuminates above your head?


Peter: I am not a cartoon.


Scampi: Really?


Peter: [uncomfortably] Yes.


Scampi: You know, you should stop defining yourself in negative terms. It can’t be good for your constitution.


Peter: SIGHS.


Scampi: Always a-sighing, like a maiden on the seashore.




Peter: Eh? What?


Scampi: [reflectively] I suppose we have Nikola Tesla to thank for that.


Peter: Stop being so reflective. It hurts my eyes.


Scampi: Sorry.


Peter: Yes well.


Scampi: We can help each other, of course.


Peter: Theoretically.


Scampi: That’s what friends are for.


Peter: Who told you this?


Scampi: A little bird.


Peter: A bird?


Scampi: Right. Phylum: Chordata.


Peter: Ah ha.


Scampi: Backbone is important.


Peter: When classifying animals.


Scampi: Or when lost at sea.


Peter: Are we lost at sea? Is that what you’re saying?


Scampi: No, no.


Peter: Oh. Ok.


Scampi: Wouldn’t I tell you if we were?


Peter: Uh. Yes?


Scampi: This is a beautiful English word.


Peter: It is?


Scampi: Yes.




Scampi: Tired?




Scampi: Did you just wake up?


Peter: No, no. I am merely enjoying a little midmorning constitutional.


Scampi: Like a walk?


Peter: I am facilitating blood flow.


Scampi: Is it working?


Peter: I feel a surge of renewed vigour.


Scampi: Can you touch your toes?


Peter: That’s private.


Scampi: It isn’t.


Peter: [SHOCKED.]


Scampi: What?


Peter: A man’s body is his—


Scampi: Corpus?


Peter: Porpoise?


Scampi: Christi?


Peter: None of that, now.


Scampi: Heh. Har.


Peter: You are up to no good.


Scampi: Says who?


Peter: That is my opinion.


Scampi: Based on what?


Peter: Based on the diabolical noises you were just making.


Scampi: Always something.


Peter: Ahem.


Scampi: There’s a hole in your sock.


Peter: Perhaps.


Scampi: Your stocking.


Peter: I do not wear stockings.


Scampi: Your stocking feet. That’s how they said it.


Peter: Who did?


Scampi: You know. The people.


Peter: Oh, naturally.


Scampi: Maybe the floor isn’t smooth enough.


Peter: Or the peanut butter.


Scampi: Are you lonely, Peter?


Peter: You have an issue with peanut butter?


Scampi: We can overlook that for the moment. Are you lonelier?


Peter: Than I was when last you asked?


Scampi: No.


Peter: No.


Scampi: It’s kind of wistful. How you’re staring out the window.




Scampi: Your cravat is less than laundered.


Peter: [taking umbrage] My cravat is composed of the finest silk. It does not get laundered.


Scampi: Chinese silk?


Peter: Well.


Scampi: Is it?


Peter: I do not know.


Scampi: Doesn’t even know the provenance of his filthy necktie.


Peter: Uncalled for.


Scampi: I’ll call for it. Seres! Cerebus! Here, boy.


Peter: Are you speaking to my garments?


Scampi: No less. Your silks, I am.


Peter: Is that a riddle?


Scampi: Are you an equestrian?


Peter: I am not.


Scampi: Did you know something?


Peter: I did. I continue to know it.


Scampi: Jockeys wear silks. Did you know that?


Peter: Perhaps. Most likely.


Scampi: Didn’t think so. That’s what what they wear’s called, their outfit.


Peter: Ah.


Scampi: Their costume. Silks.


Peter: A light, attractive, yet durable fabric.


Scampi: I could wash your tie.


Peter: I don’t doubt it.


Scampi: Tell me what you see right now.


Peter: Where?


Scampi: Now.


Peter: Which direction am I looking in?


Scampi: I don’t know. What do you see?


Peter: Immediately? Or in the distance?


Scampi: Have you ever been to Spain?


Peter: I have not.


Scampi: Oh.


Peter: Why do you ask?


Scampi: Just curious.


Peter: I can see the view. And the pores in my nose.


Scampi: Ew!


Peter: What?


Scampi: Pores. Yech.


Peter: Have you been to Spain?


Scampi: Who hasn’t?




Peter: I like the view from this window (of course),


Scampi: (of course)


Peter: but the sky is rather overcast.


Scampi: And that’s not something you like. Not something you’re a big fan of.


Peter: A fan? Am I a fan?


Scampi: You sound like a cockatoo, at present.




Peter: Say what you will.


Scampi: I shall.


Peter: Indeed.


Scampi: I shell. Shell on a shore. You know that whole thing about shells, right? Peter?


Peter: Are we discussing military history?


Scampi: No, please. I mean a shell on a beach.


Peter: An army could locate—


Scampi: It could be any beach, one of those hollow type shells.


Peter: A conch.


Scampi: Or whatever. Have you ever put one up to your ear?


Peter: In order to aurally witness “the sea”?


Scampi: Sure.


Peter: No.


Scampi: You haven’t?


Peter: Well, I don’t think so.


Scampi: You don’t know? You don’t even know if you did or if you didn’t?


Peter: I am unsure.


Scampi: Yes. I thought maybe you were lonely.


Peter: You are entitled to your thoughts.


Scampi: I entitle my thought regularly. As you well know.


Peter: I’m not sure when I was last on a beach.


Scampi: You don’t have to be on the beach to hear the shell. You can be at home.


Peter: With a shell.


Scampi: Yes. You bring it home, and then the sound of the sea is only an arm’s length away.


Peter: I see.


Scampi: You hear. That’s how it works.


Peter: I don’t believe it does work, in fact.


Scampi: No, I know. I was just curious.


Peter: To know whether I had tried it?


Scampi: That’s right.


Peter: Have you tried this? With the shell?


Scampi: Nonsense. I can hear the sea right now.






Scampi: I am up to my ankles.


Peter: It looks like rain.


Scampi: It certainly doesn’t taste that way.