Chip: (Putter putter putter.)

Dr. von Rockenstein: (Putter putter putter!)

Chip: (ZOOM!)

Doc: (ZOOM!)

Chip/Doc: I WANT THE CATNIP BAG!

Chip: I always get my way, and you know it!

Doc: But what YOU don’t seem to understand, is that every bit of my passive energy is saved for CATNIP ACQUISITION!

Chip: (BAM!)

Doc: (KA-POW!)

Chip: (Full Nelson!)

Doc: (Rapid bunny-feet kicks to FACE!)

Chip: WHY AREN’T YOU BACKING DOWN!

Doc: It’s CATNIP, son!

Chip: (Frantic, yet unspired, flailing about.)

Doc: (Three nice, solid SMACKS to Chip’s face!)

Chip: I am MALE, and also INSANE, and do you ACTUALLY want to deal with me! Am I REALLY worth ALL THAT!

Doc: …No. You know what? No. Fuck you.

Chip: That’s RIGHT, bitch!

Doc: (Leaves.)

Chip: ….

Chip: (Frantically molests bag of catnip as if in one-night stand of ersatz passion.)

Chip: …

Chip: Ummm…

Chip: (Leaves.)

Doc: (Sadly walks over, witnesses carrion that was once her True Great Love, the ironically-named “50-pound” burlap bag o’ catnip.)

Doc: (Looks at bag lovingly, but it has been ravaged by Chip, and the relationship is over.)

Doc: (Lies down, gazes longingly at virtual past laying on bathroom floor.)

Chip: (Trots back over.)

Chip: HA! That’s…right.

Doc: 😦

Chip: ‘s cool, Baby. You know how it is, rockin’ and rollin’, and what not.

Doc: How DARE you try to tired pop culture me out of my grief.

Chip: I know! I know. You um…wanna go get something to eat?

Doc: I guess I could eat.

Chip/Doc: (Move sadly towards kitchen, not looking, not touching.)

Chip: (Munch munch munch.)

Doc: (Munch…munch…munch…)

Chip: Half done, wanna trade?

Doc: (Sad, yearning smile.)

Doc: (Finally feeling full weight of situation, turns away, walks slowly into bedroom.)

Chip: (Sits in kitchen, disinterested in food. Ponders what he has done.)