Fighting Fighting

“Do you think they … ?”


“Of course. It’s a first principle. Everyone knows that!”


“But wouldn’t it be a little silly to do that? I mean, one can’t typecast them as frivolous, fruity fools, can one?”


“One can. Nice thing that, by the way. Let me try. Shallow, silly sociophiles.”


“Is that a even a word? Sociophiles?”


“You behave like an idiot, again. Has that ever stopped me? Now you go.”


“Hmm. Extreme ear eroders.”


“Not bad. Insipid, incessantly insensible idiotine!”


“Okay! Mindnumbingly … hey, just wait. Stop this. I was making a point. Can I continue?”


“It is a delightful topic. You may, you may. Don’t stop on my account. When we meet, every now and then, over a mug or two of this and that, it is a natural law that your wonderful life be the topic of conversation. How dare I? HOW DARE I?”


“Oh yes. Of course, how could I forget? So self-centred of me. I do this every time.”


“But am I good friend. Even to a Narcissus as you. So, yes, do carry on.”


“Thank you. So, you’re saying they do? All the time? Every day?”


“Not all the time. No, that would be impractical. But yes, whenever they assemble in groups of 4 or 5, and there is nothing much to do. Then, they do.”


“But that’s all the time, isn’t it? I mean, when do girls ever have anything to do?”


“That is a fair point. Your brilliance radiates a halo around your head. I would kiss your feet were you one of those who take regular baths.”


“Right. Later. Thus, seeing as how they’re constantly free and up to no real good, you’re saying girls do get together and…?”


“My friend. My good friend. You must trust me. It is so. I say this not in jest, nor to trick you in any way. It is the truth. And nothing but.”


“So they fight, do they? All the time, whenever they’re free? Jumping up and down the beds? Laughing and giggling like soft, mad children smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy? The Doors. Hehe.”


“Yes. Armed with pillows.”


“Lingerie?”


“Yes.”


“All the time?”


“It’s a beautiful world.”