(The sixth part is by far the worst part up until now. HE is chattering on the sofa, covered with ranch dressing, and she is sitting on her desk, also covered with ranch dressing, and something about them is very much like spring salad, and oh my gosh there is a DOG in the room that might be a wolf but we don't know yet. In fact, we don't want to spook the DOG so we pretend not to see it.)
HE: This is nice, I didn't expect to see you here, but this is perfect, and we should have a picnic.
SHE: I haven't had a picnic in many a year, and that sounds like just the pickup I need, except what are we going to talk about when we run out of things to talk about?
HE: I don't know, but I don't think we will, because things keep happening, and we can talk about those things, the way other people do when they are talking and life is happening and going on around them. We could make little sarcastic comments about some of the things we don't like, and we could talk deeply about the things that make us sad, and it would be like that, I saw this on tv and I think we can do it.
SHE: Everything has ranch on it.
HE: Everything is salad, because I read that women like salad.
(Oh, there's a lot to unpack in that, and we wonder, will he unpack that? No, he will not.)
SHE: I wonder if it's going to rain, because they say that it's bad if it rains on your picnic with ranch and salad or whatever whatever, but I don't mind. I really don't mind. When it rains, it's like, it's like a lot of things, but I am trying not to be metaphorical, because when we go there we get lost and it's hard to find my way back. And I have things to do. I have things that I do.
HE: We should say things like, Oh, this is very crisp and fresh salad.
SHE: But there really isn't salad, it's all just dressing.
HE: I know, I didn't really prepare at all, just go along with it, do you need a fork?
SHE: There's nothing to eat. (He is looking so sad that it's unbearable.) Ok, give me a fork.
HE: There are no forks. (Now it's even more sad and it's almost impossible.) I really didn't prepare. I didn't think you'd come.
SHE: I'm always here, I never left.
HE: Not true.
SHE: Not in any way that really counts, I never left in any way that counts.
HE: Maybe only physically.
SHE: Yes, just physically.
HE: Maybe that should count. Maybe from here on out, I should think that's something that counts. I have a hard time deciding what to think, because I'm lost in metaphors, but I'm thinking lately that I should think that counts, and it probably counts a lot, because it has something to do with being in the world, and who we are has to have something to do with where and when we are.
(SHE's not going to talk to him, but the DOG will.)
DOG: Excuse me, I need your fork. (The DOG eats all the salad and talks the truth.) In all my favorite tv shows, there is that part where the one person, or dog, misses the other person, or dog, and it's an endless montage of them missing and being missed, and we need that here. We need montage, because it's something we can write about later, the use of montage in representation of absence and longing. And after the montage, there's the part where the one person is going on and living their life, and the other person, or dog, is doing the same, and they both do it, and in the worst shows, they go on and grow into their lives and it's just that, they get over it, and that sounds very real. But in the best shows, there's another moment, and we need to get to that, but if we don't ever get to that, then we are in montage for a very long time, and that's sweet to watch but impossible to live, unless you are a dog, and you get to eat all the salad. And let me tell you, sweet young things, I motherfucking love salad. Vinagrettes and radiccios and all those other fucking yummy things, bits of goat cheese and pomegranite something something, that's the goddam best. It's nourishing, and it's fantastic. In the 14th century, when we all first met, they had better salads than we do today, because things were fresher, and so many people were dying of disease, you didn't have to compete. There were always extra forks. That's what we're reliving here. Nothing more and nothing less. Oh my god look at the moon I am going to go look at the moon, who's with me?
(DOG runs out. There's no more salad. They have to make a decision, and it's not that hard, but it takes a lot longer than we have film for.)
(Dog pause.)
HE: This is nice, I didn't expect to see you here, but this is perfect, and we should have a picnic.
SHE: I haven't had a picnic in many a year, and that sounds like just the pickup I need, except what are we going to talk about when we run out of things to talk about?
HE: I don't know, but I don't think we will, because things keep happening, and we can talk about those things, the way other people do when they are talking and life is happening and going on around them. We could make little sarcastic comments about some of the things we don't like, and we could talk deeply about the things that make us sad, and it would be like that, I saw this on tv and I think we can do it.
SHE: Everything has ranch on it.
HE: Everything is salad, because I read that women like salad.
(Oh, there's a lot to unpack in that, and we wonder, will he unpack that? No, he will not.)
SHE: I wonder if it's going to rain, because they say that it's bad if it rains on your picnic with ranch and salad or whatever whatever, but I don't mind. I really don't mind. When it rains, it's like, it's like a lot of things, but I am trying not to be metaphorical, because when we go there we get lost and it's hard to find my way back. And I have things to do. I have things that I do.
HE: We should say things like, Oh, this is very crisp and fresh salad.
SHE: But there really isn't salad, it's all just dressing.
HE: I know, I didn't really prepare at all, just go along with it, do you need a fork?
SHE: There's nothing to eat. (He is looking so sad that it's unbearable.) Ok, give me a fork.
HE: There are no forks. (Now it's even more sad and it's almost impossible.) I really didn't prepare. I didn't think you'd come.
SHE: I'm always here, I never left.
HE: Not true.
SHE: Not in any way that really counts, I never left in any way that counts.
HE: Maybe only physically.
SHE: Yes, just physically.
HE: Maybe that should count. Maybe from here on out, I should think that's something that counts. I have a hard time deciding what to think, because I'm lost in metaphors, but I'm thinking lately that I should think that counts, and it probably counts a lot, because it has something to do with being in the world, and who we are has to have something to do with where and when we are.
(SHE's not going to talk to him, but the DOG will.)
DOG: Excuse me, I need your fork. (The DOG eats all the salad and talks the truth.) In all my favorite tv shows, there is that part where the one person, or dog, misses the other person, or dog, and it's an endless montage of them missing and being missed, and we need that here. We need montage, because it's something we can write about later, the use of montage in representation of absence and longing. And after the montage, there's the part where the one person is going on and living their life, and the other person, or dog, is doing the same, and they both do it, and in the worst shows, they go on and grow into their lives and it's just that, they get over it, and that sounds very real. But in the best shows, there's another moment, and we need to get to that, but if we don't ever get to that, then we are in montage for a very long time, and that's sweet to watch but impossible to live, unless you are a dog, and you get to eat all the salad. And let me tell you, sweet young things, I motherfucking love salad. Vinagrettes and radiccios and all those other fucking yummy things, bits of goat cheese and pomegranite something something, that's the goddam best. It's nourishing, and it's fantastic. In the 14th century, when we all first met, they had better salads than we do today, because things were fresher, and so many people were dying of disease, you didn't have to compete. There were always extra forks. That's what we're reliving here. Nothing more and nothing less. Oh my god look at the moon I am going to go look at the moon, who's with me?
(DOG runs out. There's no more salad. They have to make a decision, and it's not that hard, but it takes a lot longer than we have film for.)
(Dog pause.)
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