falcon powder

O happy evening. The Palinode and The Lotus arrive home from a restaurant. Mid-conversation.

The Lotus: I really want to write more of those letters, like that one to the guy who smelled of talcum powder.

The Palinode: I see. (pause) I'm sorry, did you say falcon powder?

The Lotus: What? No. What?

The Palinode: What's falcon powder?

The Lotus: I said talcum powder. What's falcon powder?

The Palinode: That's what I want to know.

The Lotus: I don't think it exists.

The Palinode: Is it powder made of falcons, or is it a powder for falcons?

The Lotus: It isn't - it wouldn't be made of falcons. Foot powder isn't made of feet, you weirdo.

The Palinode: Yeah, but what kind of applications would powder for falcons have?

The Lotus: I. Wouldn't. Know. We don't own a falcon.

The Palinode: It's a niche market.

The Lotus: Uh-huh.

The Palinode: For proper falcon freshness.

The Lotus: Why not.

The Palinode: But do the unsuspecting falcons know that they're powdering themselves with falcons?

The Lotus: I'm in a different room now.