Bama: cinnamon bears?
Doryce: what are they feeding you at that school?
Bama: nothing. you have to pay for every food.
Gladyce: ah i remember cinnamon bears. roaming over the countryside of my youth.
Bama raises his both biceps like hangers and poses.
Bama: i fight bear in the woods. see who goes poo in the forest first.
Doryce: The Cinnamon Bear was a famous radio play i enjoyed as a baby. i would get tucked into it every night. i don't remember now who exactly it was cradling me but i always remembered falling asleep to the impossible adventures of silver stars in my head, not out there.
Gladyce: i remember. followed after by The Phantom Detective.
Doryce: asleep by then. the kiddie stuff put me out like a light.
Bama: the Korean soap or the vintage comic book? i do both at college. i have a lot of free time and i call Emma a lot for advice and i'm bored.
Gladyce: pulp noirs, romance in a can of frozen pulpy orange juice. you must broaden your palate, dear Doryce.
Doryce: i prefer the real thing, as sloppy as it is. i feel i don't have very much time left.
down Bear Creek the couple at the next next table are trying to keep out of view holding big bulky binoculars over their eyes.
Gladyce: see? suspense at the next table. two pairs of tits. hills. that couple knows how to gel, their body language bespeaks a new energy, they don't need to speak.
Strzok and Page are worriedly grasping at diner straws trying to locate the target. they're looking at Comey's house. which is like a long-boarded colonial except it's more of the bottom half of a steamboat where the paddlewheel affixes in in the swamp. Comey is pacing back and forth.
Strzok: i think he caught us but his eye was off. Ashley is there inside with him. he immediately broke an egg and spliced the shells on the back of his foot.
Strzok: he's starting to talk. with her in the room. it must be a signal. but how? but why? wait you know what, he's not voicing, he's emoting, he's silently mouthing the words.
Page: impressive. just how you were able to discern i wanted to fuck you. you read my mind.
Strzok: Peter and Lisa, the game's up for me. Ashley is a world-class reporter. but it's not over for you. you are so lucky to be in the position you are in. you still have a job to do! come to work everyday. hug each other everyday first thing. trust no one. you're all you've got. they want me to give him up, they want the location, but i trust you. i know you'll do the right thing. are you getting all this?
Page points to her temple.
Page: photographic memory. don't need an instagram account.
Strzok: you're so lucky to not be married. you can't be compromised and ransomed. you still have mystery and romance and an office. once you tie you're tied. all the games are done, all the secrets known, the habits grown. it's more of an implied hug after that. never give up. keep working your inbox. don't give it up too soon. what's good for the country is good for you, too. i even caught that rhyme.
Page mouths back as only a woman can.
Page: sir, can you do me a favor? say it to me, it gets me all tingly.
Comey drops his jaw then moves it subtly, mouthing: "i want an information on you."
Strzok: are you quite finished?
Page: i never finish.
Comey sneezes. that prompts Ashley to turn around and tend to his nose.
Doryce: really squares my true. like the famed Aladdin stone. pure. can we just buy an uuni oven? i want to make pizza myself.
Gladyce: that's another slang for masturbation isn't it?
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