Throw me that thing, will ya? Oh, you want to talk? Great, great, great, yeah, I’m nodding, awesome, whatever. Just throw me that circular disc. Oh and, if you can, throw it too high or too far to the side.
Hey, that was a decent toss, but direct is kind of boring. I’m sending it back to you. You like that spin?
Yeah, so I’ll catch a surprising (to you and me) amount of your mistakes and your intentional errant throws. It’s better if I have a lot of flat open ground. No sidewalk, no trees, no weird protruding objects that might cause serious injury. Give me some space. Make me go. Make me run, jump, dive. I don’t want to hear your anecdotes. That’s okay, I don’t want to stop for a break.
No, no, please don’t throw it that wa…it’s over the fence. As we walk over to get it, you’re going to realize you’re tired and we’ll lose our momentum and…I’m not human, don’t you see? I never tire of this activity. Let’s keep playing, come on, please…oh, you’re sitting down. You want to engage in small talk. I see. Well I’m just going to stand here silently with the disc in my hand.
I’m ready to play again. I need to get it out of system. I’ll play all night, all day, forever until I’m done. But right now, I’m not done. Wow, mhmm, your story is so interesting. I’m picturing the…gliding disc in the blue sky as I read its trajectory and run after it unimpeded. I admit, the white plastic disc is making my mouth water. I may or may or may not have an addiction. So please, spare me the human activities at this moment. Take this thing from my hand. I need you to throw it to me, the current object of my affection, the beautiful Frisbee, and I’ll go fetch.