An Excerpt:

(Flashback music fades out as the lights cross fade back to the table.)
CYRUS: Considering the source I must say that was the highest compliment I’d ever been paid. Can you imagine that? That … that reckless and feckless …
CYNTHIA: Excuse me! Did you actually just say feckless?
CYRUS: Why yes I did, and I shall not apologize for my dearly departed friend was indeed feckless.
CYNTHIA: I’m not doubting you, Mr. Hufflebluffer, I … I’ve just never actually heard an actual person use the word … feckless.
CYRUS: And now you have. As I was saying, for him to call me stuffy was high praise indeed.
CYNTHIA: I see … Well, as much as I would like to spend the rest of my afternoon listening to stories of your friend’s feckless behavior I should be getting back to work.
CYRUS: Of course. It has been my pleasure to have broken bread with you even though no actual bread was broken.
CYNTHIA: Before I go I … what became of your friend? If I may ask, if it’s not too painful a memory, how did your friend die?
CYRUS: Thank you for caring.
CYNTHIA: It’s more curiosity than anything.
CYRUS: Thank you for your honesty.
CYNTHIA: It’s the least I can do.
CYRUS: Well then ... Toby died as he lived. He died as a dog. In spite of my constant warnings and good example he insisted on constantly raising my displeasure by shunning my example and warnings.
CYNTHIA: It isn’t easy to control the behaviour of others.
CYRUS: That is a defeatist view, Ms. Simon. I am never pleased by things I cannot control.
CYNTHIA: The story? You were telling me a story. Just please make it as brief as possible because I really do have to get back to work.
CYRUS: The short version then. Toby Dammit and I were making our way home late one evening. The moon was high and full as were our spirits …