SVEN: I met someone else.

LARISSA: What? Who?

SVEN: [Sven is a nerd: black turtleneck, utility belt, rimless specs. “Stage crew.“] You.

LARISSA: [Curtains descending at every level within her] What?

SVEN: You. I met you.

LARISSA: Someone… else?

SVEN: Yes.

LARISSA: But it’s me?

SVEN: Right.

LARISSA: Is that… OK?

SVEN: You tell me. [Farts silently]

LARISSA: It’s not OK.

SVEN: Why not?

LARISSA: I’m the only one.

SVEN: I know.

LARISSA: But you met someone else.

SVEN: [Nods like a concrete skate park. 🙁 ]

LARISSA: And that someone else is me. And somehow this contradiction is supposed to turn me on?

SVEN: It’s not supposed to do anything. It’s just a vegetable, in your refrigerator, going bad slowly.

LARISSA: Is that a metaphor for what you just said?

SVEN: I don’t know. Maybe it’s a simile. It’s definitely figurative language.

LARISSA: I really wish this was more interesting.

SVEN: Why? So that when you remember it years later you’ll be entertained?

LARISSA: No, so that I could be entertained right now. Instead, I feel sort of upset.

SVEN: Maybe it’s because you love me.

LARISSA: That’s not why I’m annoyed by this spooky bullshit.

SVEN: Well, I love you, too.

LARISSA: Maybe you should smoke some more pot, you’re acting terrible.

SVEN: OK. [He take a colossal bong ripper. The smoke, as he exhales, curls into ancient fortresses and other cool designs.]