| |
|
| "Oh,
hey Terry." |
|
| |
"Hey." |
| "..." |
|
| |
"What's
with you? You look sad." |
| "Ah...
it's nothing..." |
|
| |
"Hmm.
Okay, if you say so." |
| "..." |
|
| |
"..." |
| "..." |
|
| |
"Seriously,
what's wrong?" |
| "I
don't know, man..." |
|
| |
"Hmm.
I think I can tell." |
| "Really?" |
|
| |
"I
think you're feeling guilty." |
| "What!
What kind of friend are you? You just assume that I'm guilty?" |
|
| |
"Everyone's
guilty, Jig; some people just know what to do about it." |
| "Hmph!" |
|
| |
"...Heh." |
| "What's
so funny! I'm serious here!" |
|
| |
"Me
too." |
| "Well
so am I!" |
|
| |
"So
we're both serious, then?" |
| "...." |
|
| |
"Alright
then, tell me what's wrong, if you're not feeling guilty." |
| "...Why?
What do you think I'm feeling guilty about?" |
|
| |
"Well,
I think you're feeling guilty about talking to your friends
about getting laid--or something stupid like that--while you
know that it is B.S., and being alone here in the apartment,
you reflecting on how stupid it really is.
Plus you know that I disapprove of that kind of useless jibberish,
so you wanted to get a light talking-to from me, and relieve
your guilt." |
| "..." |
|
| |
"...?" |
| "Dang
it, Terry. Aside from the fact that we were talking about getting
wasted, not getting laid, you were absolutely right... How the
bleep did you know that?" |
|
| |
"I've
seen you talk to your friends before, Jig. They're all shallow,
animal-like-morons. I knew you were with them, because you
smell like beer, plus I saw that you were thinking about something...
almost as if you wanted to feel guilty, but you didn't. So
when you pretended to feel bad, I could tell that you wanted
me to put you in your place, where you feel more wholesome." |
| "...Are
you always thinking like that?" |
|
| |
"Like
what?" |
| "Like
some sort of psychology proffesor." |
|
| |
"It's
not psychology, it's more like philosophy." |
| "I'll
take that as a 'yes'. |
|
The Real Terry