It’s Called An Homage…

Ginger: Would you help me with something?

Ruby: Sure. What’s up?

Ginger: I’m trying to write this novel thing, but I’m having trouble with something. It seems to be…sticking…somehow.

Ruby: Sticking how?

Ginger: Well, that’s my problem, isn’t it? I mean, I just said that, didn’t I?

Ruby: What have you got written?

Ginger: Here…it’s a quick summary.

Ruby: Uh…hmm.

Ginger: What?

Ruby: Well…Let me get this straight. Your main character’s father was king.

Ginger: It might be easier if you argue as though I am the main character.

Ruby: You think?

Ginger: Yes. For this exercise, at least. I’ve been writing it as a sort of diary and I’m sort of in character.

Ruby: Okay. Your father was king. You were his only…son. Your father dies. You are of age. Your uncle becomes king.

Ginger: Yes.

Ruby: Unusual.

Ginger: Undid me.

Ruby: Undeniably.

Ginger: It looks bad.

Ruby: To sum up: your father, whom you love, dies. You are his heir. You come back to find that hardly was the corpse cold before his young brother pops onto his throne and into his sheets, thereby offending both legal and natural practice. Now… why exactly are you behaving in this extraordinary manner?

Ginger: I can’t imagine.

Ruby: Ginger!

Ginger: What?

Ruby: It’s Hamlet! And…just now…didn’t that feel…a little like…

Ginger: Feel a little like what?

Ruby: I can’t quite put my finger on it…

Ginger: See? I’ve been having this SAME problem! It’s like…we should be speaking in faint English accents.

Ruby: Really? We’ve suddenly moved to England?

Ginger: I suppose not. I don’t believe in it anyway.

Ruby: What?

Ginger: England.

Ruby: Just a conspiracy of cartographers, then? Wait! Don’t answer that!

Ginger: Why not?

Ruby: It was that feeling again!

Ginger: Do you think we’re in some weird alterna-verse?

Ruby: One where we’re just on the outskirt of actually understanding what’s going on?

Ginger: Yes.

Ruby: How long do you think it’ll go on?

Ginger: Hard to say. How long does understanding take?

Ruby: Could be a while. Do you want to play questions?

Ginger: How do you play that?

Ruby: You have to ask a question.

Ginger: Statement. One – zip.

Ruby: Cheating!

Ginger: How?

Ruby: I haven’t started yet.

Ginger: Statement. Two – zip.

Ruby: Are you counting that?

Ginger: What?

Ruby: Are you counting that?

Ginger: Foul. No repetition. Three – zip and I win.

Ruby: I’m not going to play if you’re going to be like that.

Ginger: Oh, come on. I’m always like that.

Ruby: What’s the matter with you today?

Ginger: When?

Ruby: What?

Ginger: Are you deaf?

Ruby: Am I dead?

Ginger: Yes or no?

Ruby: Is there a choice?

Ginger: Is there a God?

Ruby: Foul! No non sequiturs!

Ginger: What’s your name?

Ruby: What’s yours?

Ginger: You first.

Ruby: Statement! One…zip.

Ginger: What’s your name when you’re at home?

Ruby: What’s yours?

Ginger: When I’m at home?

Ruby: Is it different at home?

Ginger: What home?

Ruby: Haven’t you got one?

Ginger: Why do you ask?

Ruby: What are you driving at?

Ginger: What’s your name?

Ruby: Repetition! Two…zip. Match point.

Ginger: Who do you think you are?

Ruby: Rhetoric! Game and match!

Fly: What on earth are you two doing?

Ginger: Does it matter?

Fly: It sounds like you’re reciting Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.

Ruby: THAT’S what it is!

Ginger: STATEMENTS! I WIN! Against BOTH of you! Wait, what?

Ruby: Ginger, you fell asleep watching the Tom Stoppard marathon on TV last night, didn’t you?

Ginger: Maybe…is that the one with Gary Oldman and Tim Roth playing word tennis?

Ruby: Yes.

Ginger: Then in that case, I respectfully request you return my summary so that I can file it away in “future plagiarism attempts.”

Fly: It’s not “future” anymore, Ginger.

Ruby: Yeah, we’ve already proven we’re as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as we need to be.

Ginger: We have, haven’t we?

Fly: Afraid so.



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