SY
Everybody’s got a God given gift, right?

BOB
Sure.

SY
Mine? It’s letting opportunity slip on by.

BOB
No…

SY
It’s absolutely true. I’ll open the door, every single time, the exact moment after Mr. Opportunity gives up knocking.

BOB
I don’t believe tha—

SY
Why do I do this?

BOB
But you have taken advant—

SY
Why, at every turn of the corner, every single one, Bob, why do I self-sabotage myself?

BOB
Well if you’d listen for a momen—

SY
It’s because I enjoy doing it.

BOB
Please. Sy—

Sy
Or, maybe… maybe it’s an addiction. Yeah, deep down, I crave the feeling of being a walking Fowl-Up. And I fowl-up everything. From job opportunities to dating opportunities. I let it all roll on by.

BOB
What about— What about—

SY
Because, I was raised to be a brooder. A brooder and a pouter. Because, in my childhood, that’s how I got things. I wasn’t really an inventive child, you know. I was simply an effective stick in the mud. And I threw fits no other crybaby in this world could touch. I’m telling you, Bobby, I was the Muhammad Ali of fit-throwers.

BOB
That, I believe.

SY
Thank you.

BOB
But still—

SY
As a kid, to get things, I used the polar opposite of charisma. And that hasn’t changed. Not at all. The only difference is, now, as a brooding slash pouting adult, no one will give me the time of day. Not even my mother. My own mother, Bob.

BOB (sighs)
So what’s to do?

SY
Beyond killing myself?

BOB
Don’t do that.

SY
But beyond that?

BOB
How about therap—

SY
Bobby, as a kid, I made the tour of every child shrink in the state.

BOB
(sighs)
Then why not… why not…

SY
Yeah?

BOB
Starting small…

SY
Sure, sure— What— Spit it out—

BOB
Try… to begin with… try— And anyway why not; what’s the harm? Try: smiling more.

SY (trying a smile; then giving up)
Smiling hurts, Bob.

BOB
That’s just about anything worth while, Sy.

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