Colin and Clifford are traveling. It is the end of summer and, as the two of them sit with cups of coffee before the splendour of a roaring sunset, they begin to talk about where they’re going.
COLIN: Maybe we should push on if we want to make Tobermory before nightfall.
CLIFFORD (abstractly): I guess:
COLIN: Lots of wrecks in Tobemory.
CLIFFORD (distractedly): Glad to hear it. They’re going to love us.
COLIN: No, I meant ship wrecks. You know, under the water.
CLIFFORD: Carelessness.
COLIN: I’m sure none of them were deliberate. You know how things can go wrong.
CLIFFORD: Maybe the chamber of commerce put them there—to give the skuba divers something to find.
COLIN (wearily): Jeez, Clifford, Coffee makes you so goddam cynical!
CLIFFORD (grinning): I lean back on it.
COLIN (looking up at the incendiary sky): Some sunset, huh?
CLIFFORD (agreeing): Big.
COLIN: Yeh. Makes you feel small.
CLIFFORD: Maybe it makes you feel small. It makes me hungry.
COLIN: Okay, so we’ll go eat.
CLIFFORD (draining his cup): Right.
[a lengthy pause]
COLIN: Listen do you ever think about what happens when you die?
CLIFFORD: Never. And especially not when I’m hungry.
COLIN: Okay, well try to think of it now. I’m asking you again. What are you planning go do when you die?
CLIFFORD (off the top of his head): I thought I’d just lie on my back and look at the stars…
COLIN: But things…well, you know…there are likely to be transformations. Declensions. A dwindling of some kind.
CLIFFORD (with great finality): I’m going to lie on my back and look at the stars…until we get all mixed up together.
(curtain)
