"There is nothing to do," said Harris.
  "What I don't get," said Addison, "is how your boringness can still be fun - like tension relief I suppose.  All I'm sayin' is that it wouldn't hurt for you learn how to indulge in the frugalities of life.  Just a little bit.  Don't get mad.  Try and live cheap.  Dirt cheap!!  Don't think about it.  Do it!!  DO IT!!  I'm not upset, but economize in this pitiful... economical... what have you... uh... environment we got going on.  What do you offer?  No homo, but what do you bring to the table other than a cute lil' baby face?  Hell, maybe that's all you need.  Lots of people collect paychecks in the Big Apple on looks alone.  Y'ever get out to New York City?"
  "Go if you get the chance.  For me it was mostly itinerary stuff the dozen or so time I been, but I soak up a completely different vibe each time I go back.  That city stays engraved in your head when you're long gone afterward.  How bout Boston?  Massachusetts?"
  "Nope."
  "Are you serious with that top?"
  "Wait.  What?"
  "Clash much?"
  "Huh?"
  "Are you learning anything at all from me?"  It's kind of like a paid internship if you play your cards right."
  "I guess."
  "You guess what?" said Addison.
  "I don't know," said Harris.  "What?" he said in a confused high pitched voice.
  "Nothing.  Forget it.  Hungry?"
  "No."
  "Is this some exercise in spontaneity and one word responses?  Oh ok.  Continue.  Sorry to interrupt. You were saying?"
  "What?  Dude you're not making any sense."
  "Well what do you want to do then?"
  "There is nothing to do!!!" droned Harris.
  "This might be ALL there is to life man!!  Why do you want to waste it?"
  "..."
  "There is EVERYTHING to do.  Come on.  Get down on the good foot you fucking prude."
  "..."
  "I'm just a big ol' ATM and sack of dope to you and that's it then?"
  "I guess." 
  "You're so ungrateful Harris.  Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?  The few that there are seem to be dripping with apathy and disdain.  After all I've done for you.  Hmm..    There's something you're not telling me, and you don't want to talk about it.  That's cool, 'cause if the shoe was on the other foot - eh - forget I even bring it up.  I should learn to be more responsible anyway - practice what I preach - less impulsive with my finances.  If I could get things ironed out in that department, conversations such as these would fail to exist."
  "You can't drink."
  "I know," said Addison stopping at a red light.  "I'm far from perfect, but with everything going on in my life right now.... I'm making a personal inventory of my own life and what has worth and value, what's a waste of time, and how one drink can lead to a thousand and all that personal hell and torment.  I'm growing to despise that state of sickness and depravity more each day and look realistically at the negatives.  Because believe you me Harris, they sure outweigh the positives."
  "..."
  "Look... it just seems like with all my family and friends the conversation always becomes interrogation, accusation, yet sometimes helpful suggestions and ideas on how to improve in certain areas.  But I'm a good teacher.  I believe in my talents and abilities, and work diligently every day I stay clean and sober.  Every day.  Every single day.  I have to.  This ain't new territory.  I'm not trying to manage some sort of game or manipulate some deck of cards or whatever, cause life ain't some game dude.  I'm teaching a class and none of the students are buying the textbook if you catch my drift."
  "..."
  "And you don't need me or Pippa or anyone else to elaborate any further on what I need to fix in my own life."
  "..."
  "It's just good to see you man."  Leg slap. 
  "OW!  Chill man," said Harris surprised.  "Take me home."
  "You're not hungry?"
  "No.  Tired."
  "Sure you are.  Hmm.  Look at those big droopy eyes.  That takes the cake right there.  White trash heaven.  Now you've really done it.  That's the look of too much steak and fun if I ever saw."
  "Yep."
  "You're welcome."
  "What?  Take me home."
  "Alright.  So be it Mr. Collegiate.  Cone-each-e-waw!!  Hey.  What kind of conditioner does April use?"
  "How in the fuck should I know?  Pantene Pro fuckin' V.  You know.  The one with all the nourishing oils and vitamins and minerals that make her locks all nutritious and sucn."
  "She's not into that network marketing stuff is she?"
  "Well... kind of."
  "What?  The make-up?  The soap?  Pots and pans?  What?"
  "And you're bringing this up because?"
  "Hey.  Gimme the remote."
  "Who's got one?"
  "I can't believe you."
  "What's with all the marmalade smeared over the table at Seeder's house?  You're gonna get a bunch of flies in there if you don't get that wiped up."
  "Why don't you go get a nice hot damp rag and wip it up for everyone?  I'm not your fucking housekeeper."
  "Why do you type two sarcastic pages like this?" asked Harris holding up an old manuscript of Addisons.
  "You need coffee.  Things will be better with coffee."
  "..."
  "What?"
  "Swut-I-thought.  Huh?"
  "Dingus."
  "Comic strip."
  "Enough." 

... Stale Catfood will return after a brief word from God and Satan:
 
SATISFACTION

  "Hey Big Guy," sneered Satan, "nothing's ever good enough for You."
  "Nope," said God.
  "I've taken the worst of the worst off of your hands.  I think I deserve a little more than this."
  "You're the Prince of Darkness!!  The Father of Lies!!  I've given ou dominion over the entire underworld!!!... What more could you want Luce?"
  "Everything.  Because everything all the time is still never enough."
  "Same here," said God.  "I've taught you well."
  "Why don't you give them a 'satan-breather' writing assignment?" said God.  "After I was done creating everything I took a vacation to write about it and gave a bunch of prophets and saints homework.  It's a little bok called the Bibl..."
  "I've read it," interrupted Satan.  "Cover to cover a thousand times.  It's full of illogicalities and fabrications.  Genius.  Wish I thought of it first.  Bravo!!"
  "Look Luce," said God, "I created you, and my creativity created your creativity."
  "And lets not forget paradoxes.  The Holy Trinity?!  More like Holy Shit!!  No offense."
  "None taken," said God.  Hey - here's an idea - why not write me another one of your Sulpheric Death Metal Jams!!"
  "Sure.  After the movie's over."
  "Deal."