Act I
Enter two navies inspecting a robbery scene, Norman staring at a table on a stage full of empty shuffled tea cups and scattered roses.
Norman: well wouldn’t you see! isn’t this the most balanced tea!
Enter Dover eyeing the table and Norman with sharp inspection.
Dover: what the shambles you mean? (picking a rose up)
Norman:oh the shambles! where’s the gleaming fire within the clear clouds!
Dover:what even caused such a commotion?
Norman: oh what’s the withered moon without the staggering sun! the founded prism underneath the leaves when they hum
the lookers- instead of the rounds could have taken onboard routes!
Dover stands unsure as Norman roams around like he’s on shore.
Dover: what’s buzzing in that wits of yours?
Norman halts all of a sudden picking up the pieces of a broken glass, roses, and stems.
Norman: fine time how it had tethered! if the tea cups hadn’t fallen under ink of roses on their surface! then who’d rip the poor roses out their wombs!
Dover listening to Norman, picks up the labeled teabag’s paper inspecting.
Awfully surprised Dover reads.
Dover: Sugarlime Tea? how’d that not succumbed from thrills of morbid totes! my heavened lord!
Norman halts amidst his tumble around the lowered velvet curtains.
Norman: oh that must’ve been treading on dreadful strings that led to delightful things— thorns in their cups but roses around their mugs just like vibrant flowers inhaled beneath wooden brutes!
swords do twist oftentimes!, just like forsworn letters carved inside hearts oh how the mighty wind had rumbled their grounds their cups! their roses! their mugs!
It must’ve been when the lime in that whiff had hit! oh do come abrupt thrills! to forsaken wills!
Dover shakes his head exasperated.
Dover: not even the hastiest of blades could highlight your lines you rot witted Norman! if anything but, sons of your lips could fill all those bare rugged stones!
End act 1