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: I smell trouble.


Peter: You are trouble.


Scampi: Me?


Peter: You.


Scampi: Humph. That was uncalled for.


Peter: How’d you get that black eye?


Scampi: Dunno.


Peter: Hm?


Scampi: Oh, well, you know.


Peter: Right.


Scampi: Let’s go have a snowball fight.


Peter: No.


Scampi: Do you know how to whistle using a blade of grass?


Peter: Theoretically.


Scampi: What?


Peter: No.


Scampi: I am fond of the sound the sun makes on snow.


Peter: Melting?


Scampi: No. Of course not.


Peter: What sound are you referring to?


Scampi: Sometimes, I think one shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition.


Peter SIGHS.


Scampi: One could end it with a RE-position instead. Or with an onomatopoeia. Like, BLARG!


Peter: Blarg is not onomatopoeic.


Scampi: Don’t advertise the narrow breadth of your experience, Peter. Of course it is.




Scampi: The sound is like cut glass.


Peter: Blarg?


Scampi: What? No! How ridiculous.


Peter: Oh, excuse me.


Scampi: How foolish. I was referring to the sound of sunlight on snow. It’s like cutting glass. It’s like the tinkle of Waterford crystal on a shelf. Or on a table, I suppose.


Peter: I believe you are experiencing aural hallucinations.


Scampi: I believe I’m in love.


Peter: With what?


Scampi: The season.


Peter: Did you, uh, put some ice on that shiner?


Scampi: Sure I did.




Scampi: Sure I did. I put some icing sugar on the tip of Kilimanjaro while I was at it.


Peter: The flesh is weak, but the spirit soars.


Scampi: Hell yeah.


Peter: Have you had lunch yet?


Scampi: No.