M:          You have a stain on your tie.

D:          Where?

M:          Right there!

D:          That’s not a stain. It’s a pattern.

M:          A single blot of mustard doesn’t make a pattern, dude.

D:          Then go get me a hot dog and I’ll even it up.

M:          Terrible.

D:          What?

M:          “I’ll even it up”?

D:          Shut up. I’m hilarious.

M:          Says who?

D:          Kelsey.

M:          So tell me why you dragged me out to this instead of asking her. She loves this artsy, indie wank.

D:          It’s not wank! Why do you call it wank? You’re an ass.

M:          Wank wank wank.

D:          That word’s lost all meaning now.

M:          That’s what she said.

D:          What? That doesn’t even work. (sigh) I didn’t ask her because I didn’t have the guts.

M:          You guys have had like, four dates.

D:          This isn’t the place for a forth date. It’d be like bringing her to a wedding.

M:          But you’re cool with dragging me. Dude, this isn’t like a wedding. It’s getting dressed in uncomfortable clothing and sitting in a room with a bunch of virtual strangers to…ohh. I see what you mean.  But no one’s wasted.

D:          Yet. (Pulls flask out of inside jacket pocket and takes a swig out of view of M)

M:          Oh.  Isn’t that your Aunt Laura making out in the back row?

(both look)

D:            Shit, you’re right. (whispering to M) But that’s not Uncle Phil.

M:          (Exaggerated gasp, hand to mouth)

D:           So what about your love life?

M:          I make out with 15,000 listeners daily.

D:           Slut. (beat) Seriously though, I thought you had a thing with… (snaps)

M:          Rhea. Yeah, well. Things happened. Restraining orders were filed. It was a misunderstanding though, swear to god.

D:           You’re kidding.

M:          (shrugs)

D:           How?

M:          Well, I went to send her flowers. It was her first day at her new job.

D:           Cliché, but thoughtful.

M:          So, I went to the flower shop and the chick behind the counter looked kinda familiar.

D:           It was Maia, wasn’t it?

M:          (snaps) Maia! Right. That’s her name.

D:           Dude, you guys dated for like, two months.

M:          Yeah, but for the first few weeks, I thought her name was Kyla. Anyway, she kept giving me these looks. We chatted awkwardly while I ordered.

D:           I think I see where this is going.

M:          As I was leaving, I called her Joanne.

D:           Joanne? I thought you thought her name was Kyla?

M:          Yeah, well, you see, Joanne was the girl I sorta…cheated on Maia with. Her best friend.

D:           Dickery, Level Up! (video game sounds)

M:          I try. Honestly. Anyway. So the flowers arrived at Rhea’s work. The card, apparently, had some inappropriate things written on it, and my name attached.

D:          How…inappropriate?

M:          It might have proposed a three-way with a circus clown.

D:          Might have?

M:          Yeah, well. I was trying to figure out exactly what the card said between expletives and threats to call the police.

D:          This dude’s eavesdropping.

M:          Three ways with clowns must be his idea of a good time.

D:          Hey buddy! Yeah, you! I bet your girlfriend would wear Bozo shoes for you. See? She’s smiling. She’s into it!

M:          (sighs) I should’ve invited Kelsey. Then I wouldn’t have to sit here with you and imagine Mr. and Mrs Bowtie getting it on with something Stephen King dreamed up.  (He reaches across and into D’s jacket to steal the flask)

D:          Hey! (he grabs it and takes another swig)

(Both stare forward for a few moments, passing the flask back and forth)

M:          Is it me or does it feel like we’re in a Beckett play?

END