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"Take a Tylenol."

"No."

"Come on. You're driving me crazy. It will make you feel better."

"I don't want to take a Tylenol. It means I'm weak."

"I'm sorry?"

"Weak. It means that I have weakness."

"Idiot. It means that you have pain. And that you don't want the pain to continue."

"I think it also means that I can't take that pain."

"No, instead, you just want to lie there and complain to me."

"Finally."

"Finally what?"

"You understand what's going on."

"Oh I see."

"Okay."

"You know that if I just left you here right now, you'd still be on the couch five hours from now, wondering why your back hurt."

"Probably. It's a very interesting question."

"What is?"

"Why is my back hurting?"

"Have you thought through the causal relationship here?"

"Between?"

"Between lying on the couch for four hours watching cartoons and your back hurting?"

"If you're saying one is the cause of the other, I refuse to believe that cartoons have anything to do with this."

"The lying down, though?"

"No. No causal relationship."

"Okay well. Look. No matter how fun this is right now, I'm going out."

"Out? Where? And with me like this?"

"Yes. Especially with you like this. Whatever you mean by like this."

"I mean in pain and alone and sad."

"Okay first, you're not alone. Second of all, based on that shit-eating grin, you are not sad. You may, in fact, be in pain. But that hardly seems like enough justification to be acting like such a moron."

"Right."

"Right."

"So you're going to go out then and find people to talk with who are more entertaining and less in pain than I am. Is that it?"

"That appears correct. Have you seen my phone charger?"

"What? No. I've been lying here for hours in case you haven't noticed."

"I have definitely, absolutely noticed."

"So then how could I possibly know where your phone charger might be? I am, after all, in pain and immobile. I am not searching the apartment for a charger."

"Never mind. I found one."

"In the kitchen?"

"Yes. In the kitchen. Plugged in next to the stove. Which is where I seem to remember that someone I live with likes to listen to NPR on his phone while cooking."

"That's preposterous."

"Right. I know. You haven't cooked in weeks. I guess I meant making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"Damn straight. Don't put that Chapstik on."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"No. Ugh. I hate that cherry nonsense flavor. Don't use it."

"Why should you care what flavor I put on? You're not coming near me."

"Blech, gross. No, I mean I can smell it from here."

"You are the worst possible human being on the planet. Do you need anything from the drugstore when I'm on my way back?"

"No. Hey do you think that I have a kidney infection or something?"

"No. And don't Google it while I'm gone. Get some sleep."

"Okay, bye."