[All three men have thick Southern accents]
[SFX: CREAKING of rocking chairs on a porch. Birds, clip-clopping of wagons passing, quiet country life.]
TR (ROGER): Fellas, this is nigh on a perfect day for porch-settin'.
CT (HENRY): That it is, Roger, that it is. A perfect day for settin' on the porch.
TR: Mm-hmm. Though I hear the mercury's fixin' to head north tomorrow.
CT: That so?
TR: So I hear.
FN (CARL): Well, you know what they say. One day you're cuttin' the paste, and the next, poor Sue's got her head in a pepper tub.
TR: [Small, tight noise, then clearing throat quietly]
[SFX: QUIET PAUSE, MORE ROCKING AS THEY THINK.]
TR: Wife's gettin' set for blackberry season.
CT: I expect that's why the mercantile's out of canning jars.
FN: It's like they say: two bronze sticks don't make eleven.
[A pause as Roger struggles to let it go, but he finally can't help himself.]
TR: ... "They" who?
TR: I just... Sorry, but dammit, Carl, who says that? Nobody! Nobody says that. You just made that up. And it makes no sense!
FN: It's an old saying! My grandfather used it frequently.
TR: That is a darned lie! It's a... it's a pile of rubbish.
CT: [reflexively] A hatful o' hogwash.
FN: A gecko club flush with horse buttons.
TR: CARL! You just did it again! What is a gecko club?
FN: It's a club for geckos. Where geckos go. To party.
CT: Sorry Carl, but I gotta go with Roger on this one. You clearly just invented those phrases. What in tarnation is a horse button?
FN: Henry, a horse is a horse.
CT: Of course.
FN: Of course! And you know what a button is.
CT: [unsure] I... I thought I did.
FN: Well, just stick 'em together, Henry.
CT: Horse...button.... Okay. Okay! I think I get it.
TR: NO, YOU DON'T!!! You can't get it, because there's nothing to get! Sayings are sayings for a reason, Carl! They got meanings and... and history, for Pete's sake!
FN: Oh, now you just stuff that granny in a fake rock, Roger. "For Pete's sake," huh? Well, what does that mean? Who is Pete?! What's his last name? Is he married?! Does he have a hunting license? See, I don't know the guy! Why should I do anything for him? It's like they say: that spoonful of chicken may be sweet, but it don't do sign language.
TR: Carl. We are not savages here. We do not just make up folksy sayings. Maybe in Burkittsville, but NOT here.
CT: Now hold on, Roger. I'm startin' to see Carl's point. I believe what he's doing is introducing colorful new bits of country nonsense to decorate our banter. You're a good man, Roger, but you've held this porch in your iron grip of silences and same phrases for long enough! And as I believe Carl's grandpappy might have said: a cat won't buy itself roses.
FN: Why yes, he did say that, ever since he was knee-high to a toaster strudel.
TR: Okay, that's it!! I'm gonna get up... and get some lemonade... and when I come back out, this little rebellion better be gone from my porch.
[SFX: Roger stomps across porch, opens screen door, slams it behind him]
CT: That's a darned shame.
FN: Well, you know what they say...
[somehow, together, as if they both know this]
FN / CT: When you go diggin' in Eleven Trout Fountain, best be certain you've packed a laser sword.
FN: Can't dress for a donut, Henry.
CT: Ain't it the truth.
FN: It really ain't.