SCENE ONE:
Early morning. Slow pan through children's rooms, oddly still filled with sleeping children, into parents' bedroom. Husband wakes up, rolls over, begins to gently and romantically awaken his wife: quietly and affectionately rubs her back, arms, other strategically selected areas. Wife stirs, rolls over.

WIFE: Mmmm.

HUSBAND: Yeah?

WIFE: Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

HUSBAND: Yeah.

WIFE: I feel like I'm going to throw up.

[FADE TO BLACK]

SCENE TWO:
Late evening. Slow pan through living room, lights left on, television paused long enough for screen saver to activate, knitting project and computer game abandoned on furniture. Various items of clothing scattered in hallway. Children, again, sleeping in their respective bedrooms. Parents in bedroom, considering further enactment of activities interrupted earlier by a head cold and vertigo.

WIFE: My dad is still out with his girlfriend. If they come home, see the living room, movie on pause, lights still on... I might die.

HUSBAND: You're 30 years old. You have two children. I think they know you've done this before.

WIFE: [PAUSE] Yeah, I might die.

[FADE OUT FOR CENSORS]

Some time later. Husband and wife exit bedroom, somewhat disheveled and out of breath. Wife enters bathroom, husband continues to living room. Close up on wife's horrified expression as muffled male conversation wafts gently from living room. No lethal weapons immediately apparent, so she waits for mortification to kill her on its own.

[FADE TO BLACK]