Van der Graaf Generator of the Pants

Collie Lasson, smoking vigorously from what seems to be a potted plant with a hooka stem protruding from it and unassuming leaves: "Well well well so so so officially it is the Word and amen to thee brother Manuel."
Contact Manuel, kneeling solemnly in a heap of broken glass: "Do tell, for I don't want to hear it so..."
"Well you see," puff puff, "it's all in the flick of the wrist and contrition openly dismantling the effort the worst of our best minds have made in their most reckless moments for it is true as the ants would have us say with kite strings attached to our limbs, 'this quantum technology is utterly useless.'"
Mr. Manuel fidgeting a bit, arms still limp across his knees, "yes...but what of the giant ones, that guy Scruffy who swore that it would all happen in the collisions, in the minutia of the sub-atomic particles?"
"Blast! Your giants are impoverished-- just look into the Book of Jasher, the Nephilim, yes? No no no! Be damned with your, uh, what's he called...? Uh, Jehovamajig."
"You're being overly cautious. I can feel it. I know you too well, this is a mirage. This mirage is making me feel like I'm delusionating. Did you say that? I mean did I say that. Wait a moment please. Stop that, the nouns are shifting again. Deixis!"
Puff smoke, puff until the plant turns a crimson red and collapses of it's own volition. "Okay, just call me out on the seaweed act! I mean, it's not like I intended to get you into this state-- but don't do that, that thing distracting from the matter at hand. This is important goddamit--"
"It is! It is!" Struggling up from the ground, spots of blood sprinkling about. "The problem's just in the way you've framed the issue, see. That Mercury fellow can only lead us so far before WE have to abandon HIM. He'll keep leading. Don't talk down to me, no..." stroking blood across his chin, "I have seen the vast expanse of the universe displayed in the mouth of a child, under small stones that turn up in riptides, behind that sheet of paper that you reach for thinking it's only a financial report (and indeed it is) but containing so much more, in small things, yes..."
"Alright. Fair enough. Then let me re-establish the borders--"
Except that Bjork is staring him down from across the room, bidding him in that way she does with the eyes and head so still, so perfectly still, 'don't you say a fucking thing. Don't give it away, even if all things are apart...'"