Prose-ack

Jack: Hello Edward!

Edward: Hello, Jack.

Jack: What is it that you're doing, sitting here alone in this coffee shop looking at that neglected chessboard?

Edward: Idle thoughts, friend Edward. Idle thoughts. I was imagining what these chess pieces would say if they could talk.

Jack: Talking chess pieces? You are ever the strange one. I suppose if these chess pieces could talk then they would say something like, ‘Will you please wipe this dust off me?’ That's what I would say if I were one of these grimy chess pieces.

Edward: Yes, I suppose a chess piece would like to be dusted off every once in a while.

[Edward picks up two pieces, one a black bishop and the other a white rook, and wipes at them using a fold of his shirt.]

Jack: Shouldn't you clean the other pieces, too?

Edward: I don't see why.

Jack: Me neither. Oh, Edward, it's terrible! I no longer have any concept of ought. You've destroyed my moral relativism; you've vanquished my Doctrine of Universal Acceptance. I don't know what to think about right and wrong, good and bad, anymore.

Edward: I can certainly see how a person suffering from not knowing ought would end up in a coffee shop.

Jack: Is that some sort an insult directed at caffeine addicts?

Edward: Maybe so. What brings you by today?

Jack: Well, I was… [Jack furrows his brow and looks puzzled for a few moments.] Well, I don't know, really. It's as if I just appeared here. Strange. But I do know that I was on my way home from the doctor's office.

Edward: What did you see the doctor for? Memory loss?

Jack: Memory loss? What makes you say that? Anyway, I was at the doctor's because I was recently attacked by a cat. [Jack shows Edward a bandaged wound on his leg.] See?

Edward: Ouch! What happened?

Jack: I just told you. I was recently attacked by a cat. Geez, who's the one with memory loss here?

Edward: Yes, yes. I mean how did it happen?

Jack: Well, let's just say that some cats don't like to have their cute, fluffy tummies rubbed.

Edward: I see. So did you require stitches?

Jack: Nope. Instead I got these.

[Jack pulls out of his pants pocket a vial of pills and holds the vial between his thumb and forefinger for Edward to see.]

Edward: Are those antibiotics?

Jack: I'm not sure. Let's see… [Jack reads the label on the vial.] It says they're prose-ack pills.

Edward: Prozak? For a cat attack?

Jack: No, not Prozak. Prose-ack.

Edward: Oh. What are they for?

Jack: For cat attacks. You know, you should probably see a doctor about that memory problem of yours. Anyway, I don't really know exactly how these pills work. I'm sure they're good for me, though, because otherwise the doctor wouldn't have prescribed them. After all, once upon a time he pulled a lot of all-nighters in medical school cramming for tests and therefore must now know a lot of useful medical information. In fact… [Jack reads the vial's label again.] ‘Take one pill twice per day…’—I suppose I may as well start the dosing now! [Jack opens the vial, shakes one pill out of it, puts the pill in his mouth, swallows, and closes the vial before putting it back into his pocket.] To my health!

Edward: Did you just toast yourself for swallowing a pill?

Jack: Yes. Don't you toast yourself when swallowing a pill?

Edward: No.

[A few moments elapse in silence.]

Jack: I'm not feeling anything.

Edward: I suppose the prudent prediction is that, being a pill taken orally, Prose-ack takes awhile to be absorbed by the body.

Jack: Edward, Edward, always thinking, with his logic shoddy.

Edward: Apparently these pills don't improve politeness!

Jack: Or make me feel contriteness.

Edward: Wait a minute! Let me see those pills.

Jack: Sure, if what you seek are thrills.

[Jack reaches into his pocket, pulls out the vial, and hands it to Edward. Edward reads the vial's label.]

Edward: Aha! These aren't prose-ack pills, Jack; they're prose-lack!

Jack: So I misread. Why the flack?

Edward: Oh dear. It says right here on the label, ‘Prose-Lack: Stay out of the hearse while speaking in verse.’ Oh dear!

Jack: There's nothing to fear
It's made all so clear
Directions are simple and terse!

Edward: This is awful—

Jack: —But entirely lawful!

Edward: The effects are really taking hold. We should get you medical attention.

Jack: So it is I'm told. So it is you mention.

[Edward remains silent so as not to prompt Jack to do anymore rhyming.]

Jack: I once was attacked by a cat
It lay on the floor like a mat
I reached for its tummy
Which makes me the dummy
Though now I'm immune from chitchat.

Edward: Oh, no, limericks! It's no use. You really are stuck in verse.

Jack: It could be worse!

[A few more moments pass in silence.]

Edward: Say, Jack. Would you like an orange?