Conversations About Nothing

“I don’t know why they call ’em ‘stand-up’ comedians. What’s the reason?”
“I guess it’s ’cause they stand up when they talk.”
“This guy isn’t even funny. Why do they call ’em comedians, anyway?”
“Why do you have to keep asking all these stupid questions?”
“They’re not stupid questions… I think I could be funnier.”
“You can never remember any jokes.”
“That’s ’cause I only hear them one time. It’s hard to remember some of them, but I could be funny.”
“You’re not funny. Your cousin, Bob… now there’s a funny guy.”
“Bob’s dead.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why would you bring up my dead cousin? You know how sensitive I am about that…”
“Sorry, I just think he’s a funny guy.”
“He’s dead.”
“Yeah, you said that already.”
“I know I did. I’m not stupid. I’m funny.”
“For the last time, you’re not funny.”
“I am, too. But I wouldn’t be a stand-up comedian. I’d probably sit down the whole time.”
“So… you’d be the sit-down comedian… right?”
“I’d be a sit-down comedian. I’m sure after several shows the trend would catch on and everyone will start to sit down.”
“You never sit still.”
“That’s why I would be sitting in a chair with wheels. The wheels will help me move around stage, kind of like a wheel-chair.”
“That is a wheel chair.”
“No, not like a wheel-chair that you would find at a hospital. A wheeled chair, like one you’d find in an office. I thought you said I was stupid?”
“Are you calling me stupid?”
“No, I’m asking you if you are stupid. There’s a difference.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“Well, you called me stupid earlier.”
“No, I did not.”
“Yes… you did.”
“No… I didn’t. Read back our dialogue.”
“What?”
“Read back our dialogue.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Read it. You don’t see it?”
“See what?”
“Our dialogue. Every time we say something it appears for everyone to see.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“But you still called me stupid.”
“Damn it, no I didn’t. I never called you stupid. Check back in the dialogue.”
“I did. You said I wasn’t funny.”
“And you aren’t.”
“…which means that you think I’m stupid.”
“How the hell does that make you stupid?”
“Because I told you I wasn’t stupid and that I was funny. You said I wasn’t funny.”
“Because you aren’t.”
“I am funny!”
“God, you’re so stupid.”
“Right there! You just called me stupid!”
“What? Oh… damn.”
“I wonder if this thing can read thoughts, too.”
“What thing?”
“This dialogue thing that displays what we say.”
“Oh… I don’t know… think of something.”
Boy this lass is a deadbeat. I could be doing better things with my time than sitting here with this sack of beans.
“That was a really low blow, man.”
“What?”
“What you just said about me.”
“I didn’t say anything about you.”
“Yeah, you did, jerk.”
“I never said a word. I was only thinking.”
“Well that pretty much proves the fact that you’re stupid.”
“How the hell does what prove that fact?”
“Idiot, I can read what is written there.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can. It’s written in italics so it sets itself apart from the rest of the dialogue. It is your thoughts.”
“Oh… I see now.”
Gee this guy is really freakin’ stupid. I bet he’s more stupid than a room full of juvenile delinquents with orange jumpsuits complimentary from the state penitentiary.
“You didn’t have to say that.”
“Say what?”
“What you just said.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Now don’t start that again. You know… just as well as I do… that we can read each other’s thoughts. See? It’s in italics.”
“Oh… that’s right.”
“Yeah, so who’s stupid now?”
“Me…”
“Yeah… you.”
“Truce?”
“…yeah, truce.”