Let me set the scene for you.
Mid-morning. Three guys are lounging in the library.
Call them A, B and C.
C is a thin young man, in an off-white shirt, the shirt tucked decorously into his pants. B is clean-shaven, and very slightly overweight. He is wearing a collared T-shirt, also tucked into his pants. He clutches a schoolbag to his side. A is neither fat nor thin, he hopes, and has very scruffy hair. His shirt isn’t tucked in and he has spectacles.
We interrupt them in the midst of an altercation concerning something I don’t remember:

A: You, B, are a pusillanimous pussy.
B: And you, my dear A, are a pugnacious pug.
Pause.
A: Ok, that’s a good comeback.
B takes a bow.
C: Will you guys shut up? I’m trying to concentrate.
Just then, J walks shapeli-ly by. (I’m coining a word here).
Bigger pause. J walks over to another table and sits. R comes in after her, and sits with her.
C: You’ll never believe what I heard. Apparently X saw J and R kissing in the elevator. They’d stopped it between floors.
A: (incensed) What? We have to walk up stairs because that idiot R is taking advantage of that sweet young girl in an elevator?
B: (sniggers) sweet young girl!
C: Ha!
A: (dignified) Well, I don’t know what you people are insinuating, but I’ll have you know that she is a very nice girl.
C: And you would know that how? How many times have you spoken to her?
A: Very often. And both times, she was very nice. And she has perfect hips.
C: (in an aside) Both times!
B: Perfect hips?
A: You know, hips. As in the legs are attached to the hips kind of hips.
B turns around.
A: Don’t look at her hips, idiot!
C is laughing his head off.
They all look at J.
A: I’m going to go over there, and ask if the words ‘A simple desultory philippic’ mean anything to her.
C: What’s that?
B: It’s a song by Simon and Garfunkel. What if they do?
A: Then I’ll ask her to marry me.
B: And what if, as is vastly more probable, she has no idea what you’re talking about?
A: Then I’ll ask her to marry you!
C: Um. Hullo? She’s taken. R, remember?
A: Oh pfuit! You don’t think I’m going to let her childhood indiscretions weigh with me, do you?
B: What’s a philippic, anyway?
A: It’s a short, bitter, verbal attack.
B: See, its obscene that you know that.
A: What? I looked it up.
C: Listen. More to the point- she speaks in hindi almost all the time.
A: I had hindi for twelve years. I’ll burnish it up.
C: She reads Sidney Sheldon’s books.
A: (fondly) I’ll give her other stuff to read.
B: Wait. She has a Hum-Tum bag.
A: What!
B: Yes, look over at her table.
J and R are leaving. J has a Hum-Tum bag slung on her shoulder.
Long pause. A looks thoughtfully after J. C and B are smiling.
A: (announces suddenly) Gentlemen. My great love- it burns no more.
B and C are laughing. A is, too.
A: I shall now go and consume some pesticide.
Pause.
B: What, you’re killing yourself?
A: No, of course not. I want some Pepsi. Coming?