[The curtain rises on a dark stage. Light filters from above, landing gently on two folded sweaters lying folded on top of one another. Sound effects: a door closes; a car starts and drives away.]
Charcoal: Will you get off me?
Navy: [shuffling back and standing up] Fine. It’s not like I enjoy it.
Charcoal: [rising, brushing himself off] Whatever.
[They stand side-by-side for a moment, stretching, turning, shuffling.]
Charcoal: Do you really have to stand so close?
Navy: There’s no room for me to go anywhere else.
Charcoal: Argh. This sucks.
Navy: What’s the big deal?
Charcoal: The big deal? We’ve been in this stupid bin for eleven months. I’m cramped! I need some air! I’m choking on your stench!
Navy: [smelling himself] I smell bad?
Charcoal: [sighs] Not terrible. Just kinda stale.
Navy: [sniffing intensely] I can’t smell anything.
Charcoal: It’s kind of musky. Or mossy. It’s hard to describe.
Navy: [still sniffing] Right here? Or on one of my sleeves?
Charcoal: [angry] Just forget it! That’s not what I’m talking about.
Navy: [hurt] Okay.
Charcoal: It’s just frustrating being in here for so long. We’re sweaters! It’s December! We’re not supposed to be sitting in this stupid bin!
[pause]
Charcoal: You’re not upset?
Navy: [smelling himself again] Um… What?
Charcoal: It’s the middle of winter and we still haven’t seen daylight!
Navy: It’s been unseasonably warm.
Charcoal: Unseasonably warm? Unseasonably warm means we get worn and the jacket stays at home! This is ridiculous! Robert’s out there driving around in short sleeves with the windows down.
Navy: How do you know that?
Charcoal: The underwear filled me in.
Navy: When did you talk to the underwear?
Charcoal: You were sleeping.
Navy: I want to talk to the underwear.
Charcoal: No, you don’t.
Navy: Yes I do. It’s nice to see somebody else every once in a while.
Charcoal: So I’m not good enough for you, is that it?
Navy: That’s not what I meant.
Charcoal: Sure. Yeah.
Navy: Come on. Like you said, we’ve been in here for eleven months. That’s a long time and-
[Sound effects: footsteps]
Charcoal: Shh! Someone’s coming!
[They resume their folded positions on the floor. A long pause. The footsteps have stopped.]
Charcoal: [whispering] I just wish it would get cold so we could get out of this thing.
Navy: [sniffs loudly] So… Is it like food smell or something different?
[Curtain.]
Charcoal: Will you get off me?
Navy: [shuffling back and standing up] Fine. It’s not like I enjoy it.
Charcoal: [rising, brushing himself off] Whatever.
[They stand side-by-side for a moment, stretching, turning, shuffling.]
Charcoal: Do you really have to stand so close?
Navy: There’s no room for me to go anywhere else.
Charcoal: Argh. This sucks.
Navy: What’s the big deal?
Charcoal: The big deal? We’ve been in this stupid bin for eleven months. I’m cramped! I need some air! I’m choking on your stench!
Navy: [smelling himself] I smell bad?
Charcoal: [sighs] Not terrible. Just kinda stale.
Navy: [sniffing intensely] I can’t smell anything.
Charcoal: It’s kind of musky. Or mossy. It’s hard to describe.
Navy: [still sniffing] Right here? Or on one of my sleeves?
Charcoal: [angry] Just forget it! That’s not what I’m talking about.
Navy: [hurt] Okay.
Charcoal: It’s just frustrating being in here for so long. We’re sweaters! It’s December! We’re not supposed to be sitting in this stupid bin!
[pause]
Charcoal: You’re not upset?
Navy: [smelling himself again] Um… What?
Charcoal: It’s the middle of winter and we still haven’t seen daylight!
Navy: It’s been unseasonably warm.
Charcoal: Unseasonably warm? Unseasonably warm means we get worn and the jacket stays at home! This is ridiculous! Robert’s out there driving around in short sleeves with the windows down.
Navy: How do you know that?
Charcoal: The underwear filled me in.
Navy: When did you talk to the underwear?
Charcoal: You were sleeping.
Navy: I want to talk to the underwear.
Charcoal: No, you don’t.
Navy: Yes I do. It’s nice to see somebody else every once in a while.
Charcoal: So I’m not good enough for you, is that it?
Navy: That’s not what I meant.
Charcoal: Sure. Yeah.
Navy: Come on. Like you said, we’ve been in here for eleven months. That’s a long time and-
[Sound effects: footsteps]
Charcoal: Shh! Someone’s coming!
[They resume their folded positions on the floor. A long pause. The footsteps have stopped.]
Charcoal: [whispering] I just wish it would get cold so we could get out of this thing.
Navy: [sniffs loudly] So… Is it like food smell or something different?
[Curtain.]
I agree. I want a cold Christmas. Right now the forecast calls for a high of 66 degrees. Crappy.
I envy you. It's like seven degrees here. Seven degrees Kelvin.
Who knew I could laugh so loudly at talking sweaters?
Oh, its two sweaters. Whewww! For a minute there I thought is was an argyle talking to itself.
It's winter over there? I'm never going to get used to that. Here, we, die of heat. Some people literally. Usually old people, though. They need air con.