After the Great Collision, Marquis The Poet was triumphant in an incessantly despondent bleat. The squad of archaeologists remained diligent in their pursuit of theoretical research. And Selia and Cadbury continued discussing the Case of the Missing Self.
Selia: Why do you insist that my boyfriend doesn’t exist? Why would I come to you to solve a case that isn’t real? Do you think I am insane?
Selia paused to allow the response to be followed by some nuance of description that would make it feel less like blunt force trauma. Instead, she only heard the tickety tack of Gullet tapping out notes on a mobile computing device from a lounge area behind them.
Selia: Grand that it’s all so easy for you! Oh my, she’s insane! She’s insane! What a thoroughly male perspective! And when that aggravates her, it will be further proof of the insanity! It’s a self-fulfilling fulfillment fantasy! And from you, the King of the Deranged Lunatics! How lush, how precious!!
Gullet was typing furiously at this point, and wisps of smoke were potentially rising from his keyboard.
Gullet: [Whispering] Hear this on the grapevine.
Cadbury: The insane can be so hysterical sometimes. Why don’t they just embrace themselves? Be insane. Be proud. Out and insanely loud on a crazy cloud.
I am out, but not proud,
Gay as a caboodle of poodles,
But pffft who cares what grinds my groin,
You know relationships are for the underslime…
Selia: How does one defend one’s sanity really? Fortunately it doesn’t matter. I’m asking you to find someone, not to psychoanalyze me.
Cadbury: You are assuming that the person I am to find is not inside your mind.
Their robot waiter came and took some more drink orders. Selia ordered a Gin and Lemonade. Cadbury ordered a Detective’s Special. Gullet ordered an empty glass.
I’m straight too, as straight as my path to hell for being gay,
Decided to branch out and hate all people,
In a sexual way. You know they’re as fine as velvet,
I just wouldn’t want to touch them.
Selia: Well then, okay. Who knows what is rattling around in there? I am insane you know. Unabashedly. So let’s go.
Cadbury: It is not “going” that is required madam. It is “being”.
He paused, seemingly for effect, however the seeming effect was apparently taking a while to be achieved.
Selia: [Rapidly downing her drink] Well I was speaking…. speakaphorically. Really, not sure I care at this point. I mean I need to train more to sustain this relationship or something, I don’t know. It is very tough on the anabolic… fitness… and also perhaps a diet involving less than 5o% Gin. This poet is extremely annoying.
If I am annoying you, think what it must be like on the inside,
If it aggravates you to be asked to think about what it must be like on the inside,
Think about how I must feel having to ask you to think about how I must feel,
And then for just a moment, you will be The Poet.
Cadbury: Gullet, make 3 notes. Note 1: Client is physically and artistically unfit. Note 2: Cadbury Fife is a beautiful man with bountiful brain-bosoms. Note 3: Check on grapefruit supplies. Note 3.1416: Never smile in photographs or paragraphs. Note 2.7183: Check on architecture of space-time. Sub-note: Look for holes in things. External reference: remember to sleep an hour a week. Okay, where were we?
Selia was becoming somewhat inebriated and was embroiled in a tete-a-tete with the robot waiter about its service standards. For its part the robot was making good use of the full lexicon of it’s Customer Service Module, primarily involving the phrases “I understand your point but I don’t care”, “Would you like to consult another identical robot about that?”, and “Have I given you unconscionable service today?”.
Selia fell right off her bucket.
Cadbury: Alcohol. Truly the respite of the emotionally incorrigible.
Gullet: [Receiving another empty glass from the waiter] I will have the body taken care of. And the emotions.
Cadbury: [Rising] It is time for my act.