Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Still Not Dead (They’re Just Playing Hide and Seek)
Name five things. Do it now. Fast.
What isn’t a thing, you mental juggernaut. Five things, I said.
Unreal is a state of being, not a thing.
A state of being is so a thing. I should be at two. Strudel.
Now you’re cooking. Three more things.
Nope, three more. I should penalize you for that one.
I think I hear someone coming.
You’re just stalling. Three more things you twit.
Salamanders, monkfish, and Shelly Duvall.
What was that all about?
What was what all about?
Naming five things. Fast.
Rutabaga, John Holmes’s penis, squash, indecency, shallow feelings of inadequacy. Booya! That’s five in what has to be record time.
We’re just not on the same page today. Are we?
I said, Are we?
Oh, you wanted me to answer that question? I thought it was rhetorical in nature.
Since when have you known our relationship to be rhetorical?
Oh, you’re just impossible.
That doesn’t make any sense. I couldn’t just be impossible, I would have to be impossible at something. Like impossible at possibly looking any sharper than I do right now in your mother’s underwear.
You’re impossibly a shithead.
That’s a distinct possibility.
How much more of this do we have to deal with?
I’m dealing quite fine. Righteous in fact.
Weren’t we waiting for something?
We’ve been playing hide and seek. We’re waiting to be found.
How can we possibly be found if no one is looking for us?
I thought a moment ago you said you heard someone coming? They should be here any minute then I’d suspect.
No, I didn’t really hear anybody, I was just stalling.
I knew it.
I bet you didn’t know this though.
Ow, you unscrupulous motherfucker, that hurt.
So does this.
Only time will tell.
Ow! O.K., you win.
Point, Guildenstern. I fucking rule.
Shhhh, I think I hear someone coming.