BUTCH: Excuse me!
FLAX: Hello there.
BUTCH: You are in my way!
FLAX: I know. Isn’t it quirky, how I know I’m in your way, but am doing nothing about it?
BUTCH: I can’t tell, I’m too uptight to notice anything about you. I’m a super-lawyer-executive at a major company firm, and I need to continue moving. My job is my life, it envelops me like an envelope from Manila.
FLAX: But you are not happy. You must live life to its fullest, like I do. For now.
BUTCH: You are so right. What a life-changing and expedient breakthrough. But how do I do that?
FLAX: You must be quirky and mysterious like me. For example, eat raw foods, design unusual hats, speak in made-up languages. Ka-nood-doo!
BUTCH: What does that mean?
FLAX: I don’t know, I lost my made-up language to English dictionary. Isn’t that quirky?
BUTCH: And how your sweater is multi-colored and wool. My stark business attire pales in comparison.
FLAX: I know. Also, I am dying.
BUTCH: No, you’re not. That can’t be.
FLAX: Yes, it’s true. I have cancer of the quirk. I only have a few more sentences to live.
BUTCH: But I love you. And love means never having to say you have cancer.
FLAX: I know, that’s a symptom of the disease. You loving me. You’re killing me with kindness, in a truthful, medical way.
BUTCH: I am sad, but also happy. You have made me realize how important living life to the fullest is. I’ve quit my job and taken up my life’s passion: drawing loving caricatures of kids with Down’s Syndrome. It’s such a bizarre, non-alcoholic cocktail of emotions. Is there a word for this feeling?
FLAX: Ka-nood-doo!
BUTCH: You knew all along. You quirky, dying minx.
FLAX: My dying wish is that you’ll never forget me.
BUTCH: I’ll try my best.
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