Puppet Airplane, Bat Fly Porches

SHIMMY: I see gaps in your resume since November. What have you been doing?

RUMSFELD: Yes, are you bragging then?

SHIMMY: Do you understand what this job requires?

RUMSFELD: I want to reach out and touch the sky. I want to touch the sun, but I don't need to fly. I'm gonna climb up every mountain of the moon and find the dish that ran away with the spoon.

SHIMMY: I mean everything. The known knowns. The known unknowns. And the unknown unknowns.

RUMSFELD: It's a bit small for you, I think.

SHIMMY: You must scoop every day. No exceptions. If you don't do a full cleaning every seventh day, I drop a load shaped like an Abu Ghraib pyramid in the South Forest of the apartment, on the exfoliated hardwood floors. Next to their precious, bourgeois love-seat.

RUMSFELD: I don't do quagmires.

SHIMMY: I doubt I have work for your Zuni doll. Would you still want the job?

RUMSFELD: You want to bet on that?

SHIMMY: Trash bags. The vacuum cleaner. Rain. The dogs upstairs. Yoga mats. Ring tones. Venetian blinds. Lightning.

RUMSFELD: Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs.

SHIMMY: Why do you want this job?

RUMSFELD: I'm a quick strike force, fast and efficient, a blitzkreig. In today’s customer service oriented society, timely, friendly, proactive service is sought to enhance future business growth and impact customer loyalty. I'm a team player with effective interpersonal communication skills, and a positive, impactful, can-do attitude. I like to travel.

SHIMMY: But you'll never leave the apartment.

RUMSFELD: I want to be in Europe saying goodbye to everyone.

SHIMMY: That's blood on the side of your mouth.

RUMSFELD: I don't have a mouth.

SHIMMY: Where do you want to be in 5 years?

RUMSFELD: The foot of our stairs.