~3.27~

“Well,” Stephen said cheerfully as they descended the staircase, “at least that’s all over with.”

“But don’t you hate to think that after everything, we might just be a couple of misplaced shaggy dogs?” Michael said.

“Who’s a shaggy dog?” Stephen asked, self-consciously feeling his own stubbled face.

“As in, a shaggy dog story,” Michael said.

“Isn’t that just like a fish story?” Stephen asked. “A tall tale?”

“More like a long one,” Michael said. “A shaggy dog story is a joke told as a rambling, repetitive story with no real point.”

“How is that a joke?” Stephen asked.

“Humor comes from the conflict between our cultivated expectation and delivered result,” Michael said. “The lengthy, interminable build-up convinces the listener that the story’s payoff has got to be something huge or else it wouldn’t be worth telling. When you get to the end and there’s either a lame conclusion or none at all, all the tension that built up over the course of the telling is released as laughter.”

“And here I thought humor came from stuff being funny,” Stephen said. “I guess I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life.”

“The point is… well there is no point,” Michael said angrily. “No point to anything we’ve done tonight!”

“Well, look,” Stephen said. “You believe in fate and stuff, don’t you? Destiny?”

“I’d like to believe in destiny,” Michael said. “I’d love to believe I have one.”

“So, there you go,” Stephen said. “Maybe whatever you’re destined for, or we’re destined for, or whatever, is going to happen later.”

“That still doesn’t give any point to tonight,” Michael said.

“But if you have a future destiny, then everything that leads up to it is part of it,” Stephen said. “Like, maybe by coming here tonight and stumbling around like a pair of idiots we avoided some danger… we were kept safe for whatever the future holds.”

Michael stood at him as if in wonder… then shook his head.

“You really are an idiot.”