EXTERIOR-PARK BENCH-NIGHT

WILLIAM: I can’t deal with this shit anymore.

PHILIP: what is it now?

WILLIAM: The Americans have developed the most devastating biological weapon you can imagine. It’s terrifying. 

PHILIP: What could possibly be worse than liquefaction of your vital organs and extruding them through all of your orifices? 

WILLIAM: Okay, here’s the deal. You know when you get a case of pinkeye?

PHILIP: Yeah?

WILLIAM: Yeah.

PHILIP: ...And?

WILLIAM: But here’s the thing. It never goes away. 

PHILIP: ... 

WILLIAM: It seems to. Ten days, three different kinds of drops, eighty seven loads of laundry, bleaching all surfaces, and finally, the itching, burning, watering and cloudy vision starts to clear up. And just when you get a smidgen of hope and happiness, you try to go for a walk, maybe even smile in the fresh air again...

PHILIP: A smidgen?

WILLIAM: WHAM. Your own dopamine triggers a biochemical reaction and you’re back in Red Crudistan.

PHILIP: That’s... horrible. 

WILLIAM: Bet your ass. 

PHILIP: Is that why you’re so miserable all the time?

WILLIAM: Yeah, I can’t take the risk of thinking happy thoughts. 

PHILIP: Damn.

WILLIAM: I do like your new wig, though.

PHILIP: Thanks. I call it Slappy.