Smokey and His Sister are having a picnic. One bird is singing. It is the 1960's or 70's and the sun looks the way it always does in films from around that time period. Only this isn't a film - it's a picnic (- it's a music review pretending to be a picnic). Smokey's sister is wearing a 1960's or 70's style dress with the fashionable hairstyle of the day, and Smokey is well turned out in appropriate menswear: as always and forever, mostly brown. His haircut is mental.
Smokey's sister produces a plate of egg sandwiches from the picnic basket. They are covered in cellophane and have been sweating a bit under there. She places the plate of egg sandwiches down in the space between Smokey and herself and removes the cellophane. Sandwich sweat runs down the cellophane, collects, and dries in the sun. Smokey reaches for a sandwich.
'Wait!' Cries Smokey's sister. Smokey's hand stops reaching; the bird stops singing.
Smokey's sister lifts the lid of the picnic basket and can be heard unscrewing a jar behind the wicker flap. She produces a single green olive and places it in the middle of the plate of egg sandwiches. She balances it on end in a little puddle of its own juice. The sandwiches encircle the green olive in a ring, lined up, as they are, around the inner circumference of the plate. It's like they are all looking at the olive, waiting for it to do something. Perhaps it will sing pop music from the 60's or 70's. Or perhaps it will cry and run offstage.
Smokey once again reaches for a sandwich. This time he hesitates, looks to his sister for permission.
'Yes. Now.' She assents. Smokey smiles. The bird starts singing again.
Smokey takes the nine o'clock sandwich, assuming the sandwich at magnetic north on the plate is the twelve o'clock sandwich. His sister takes the seven o'clock sandwich. They eat their sandwiches.
'By chance, Smokey,' begins Smokey's sister, 'we have selected our respective birth-hour sandwiches.You were born at about nine-thirty in the morning, and I was born at a quarter past seven in the morning, and those happen to be the sandwiches we are eating.''It tastes like egg.'
I like Smokey and His Sister.