Absurd Theatre, as it were:
Two men on a train. One, J, a clean young man upright in his seat. The second, C, filthy and covered in soot, dressed in black, gloves on his hands, sprawled and gesturing wildly, not quite making eye contact with J.
C- Look out the window, and doesn’t this remind you of when you were in the boat and then later that night you were lying looking up at the ceiling and the water in your head is not dissimilar from the landscape and you think to yourself ‘why is it the landscape is moving, but the boat is still?’ And also, where is it that you’re from?
C- Do you have any parents back in Eerie.
J- They passed on recently.
C- And, uh, do you have, uh, wife? In Eerie?
J- Well, I had one of those. She changed her mind.
C- She found herself somebody else.
C- Yes she did.
Well, that doesn’t explain why you’ve come all the way out here. All the way out here to Hell.
J- I have a job. Um. In Machine.
C- Machine. That’s the end of the line.
J- Is it?
J- Well, I received a letter. People at Dickinsons Metal Works assuring me of a job.
C- Is that so.
J- Yes. I’m an accountant.
C- I wouldn’t know because I don’t read, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure. I wouldn’t trust no words written down on no piece of paper, especially not from no Dickinson out in the town of Machine. You’re just as likely to find your own grave.
Look. They’re shooting buffaloe. Government says they killed a million of them last year alone.