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Notes: 2 / 1 year ago
“Beatrice? Beatrice! Where are you woman…”
“Yes, George?”
“Thank God, Beatrice. I’ve been searching high and low for you.”
“With my being of exactly average height, I’m not sure what you intended to achieve by that.”
“Beatrice…”
“Oh dear, George, you know I can’t resist. But I apologise. What is it that you want?”
“I understand Beatrice. Oh gad; I seem to have forgotten…”
“Not again, George…”
“No, no, it’s in there somewhere.”
“I do have a lover, George, and he will not be kept waiting.”
“Again with the lover excuse, Beatrice? We both know you haven’t seen him in at least 16 days.”
“Counting again, are we George?”
“My superhuman awareness of time is none of your business.”
“Quite, George. Quite.”
“Ah, yes! The party!”
“Party?”
“… is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I can’t very well discuss something about which I know nothing.”
“Though that’s hardly stopped you in the past…”
“You really are quite cruel, George.”
“A man does what he can to survive.”
“And there, again! Such cruelty! I shall be lucky to sleep tonight, what with such tears.”
“Again, we’re both quite aware that you haven’t cried since you were 12.”
“Yes, but that was barely 12…”
“20.”
“Oh, have it your way. But it certainly doesn’t feel like 20 years ago.”
“Things rarely feel like 20 years ago.”
“Birth does.”
“Well, it isn’t quite the same thing, is it?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“My dear Beatrice: what are we to do with you?”
“Perhaps discuss this so-called party?”
“Ah, yes. The party.”
“So… tell me more, George.”
“There’s not really much to tell. There is a party, in the fact that a party will exist there, there being a place in which said party is occuring.”
“Always these words games, George. I tell you, it’ll be the death of us.”
“More of a coma than death, perhaps.”
“Oh dear me…”
“No, no, I apologise Beatrice. Where was I?”
“The party.”
“Right, yes. The party.”
“Am I to attend this party?”
“That’s what I am here to talk to you about.”
“And at last, George, we reach the point.”
“That’s enough cheek from you, Beatrice.”
“No cheek, George, simply tiredness.”
“Forgive me, Beatrice. It has been a long day for me too.”
“The day is not what has been long. Life, these past years. 32, why bother denying it. It’s too long, George, too long for anyone.”
“But we can find rest, Beatrice. Every night, we try a little death.”
“Not so much death as a coma, George.”
“Well, quite.”
“Aren’t we too old for parties, George?”
“Never, Beatrice. What joy there is in life will be available to us no matter what, or when.”
“Very well, George.” Notes
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