Rob Fox
INT. A SUBURBAN HOME ON A WINTER MORNING — 8:00 AM
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[A Husband walks into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee. He’s just woken up. His Wife is already up.]
Wife: Weatherman said no more snow today so you need to go out and shovel the driveway and the sidewalk and salt them both.
Husband: I–
Wife: And the stairs and the walk up to the house.
Husband: Wha–
Wife: You need to shovel and salt them too.
Husband: Okay!
Wife: When are you gonna do it?
Husband: [takes a sip of coffee, looks around, incredulous] I just woke up.
Wife: [tapping her foot] And?
Husband: “And”? What do you mean “And”. How urgently is this snow shoveling needed? Did I somehow forget that we’re having all of our oldest and most feeble relatives over for lunch? Do I need to run out there in my boxers and t-shirt, with my shrunken and frostbitten junk shivering in the wind for the whole neighborhood to see, and start shoveling snow off the sidewalk now so that the city doesn’t have to shovel Aunt Mildred’s shattered, lifeless body off the sidewalk later? Or, what? Is the world’s worst personal injury lawyer waiting outside our house right now, somehow convinced he can get lots of money out of us if someone falls on our sidewalk despite the fact he can see what our house looks like?
Wife: Oh I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you had so many other important things to do today. Do you think there’s any way you can move your three hour appointment with the toilet from this morning to this evening?
Husband: No, that’s a time-sensitive appointment. Unless you want me to do that outside while I’m shoveling snow. That’ll probably melt everything out there actually.
Wife: Ugh. You’re disgusting. Please just shovel the snow this morning.
Husband: I was thinking of just paying the Henderson kid to shovel it. He’s got quite a little business going. He’s been shoveling sidewalks all winter. I used to do that when I was a kid. It’s admirable. We should encourage it.
Wife: We are not wasting our money having some child shovel our sidewalks when there is a perfectly capable adult man living here who can do it for free.
Husband: You know that shoveling snow is, like, the number one cause of heart attacks for men my age, right? It might be… wiser… to outsource this.
Wife: Heart attack? What? You’re only 40.
Husband: Oh, great. Yeah. You can just tell that to the paramedics as I’m dying on the frozen ground. “You don’t understand! He can’t be having a heart attack! He’s only 40!” And then they’ll say, “Only 40? We had no idea! Sir, sir! You’re 40. Did you know that? You’re too young to be having a snow shoveling induced heart attack. Wake up. It’s a false alarm.”
[Wife rolls her eyes]
Husband: Then I assume my exploded heart will get the memo, put itself back together, and everything will be fine. You should call the news and tell them what you just figured out. A lot of widows are gonna feel real silly after they hear your discovery.
Wife: You’re right. Congratulations. Your refusal to eat salad your entire life has finally paid off. It’s made you incapable of doing minor manual labor because your body is apparently a ticking timebomb anytime your heart rate gets above a resting pace.
Husband: You know, salads at McDonald’s actually have more calories than the Quarter Pounder with Cheese does.
Wife: YOU SHOULDN’T BE EATING ANYTHING AT MCDONALDS!
Husband: Great. This fight again now? Never mind. I’ll go shovel snow. I’d rather die than talk about this.
Wife: It’s unhealthy!
Husband: I like to eat it! It reminds me of my childhood!
Wife: So should shoveling snow apparently!
Husband: [angrily puts down his coffee mug] Oh my God! Fine! I’ll go shovel the snow right now!
[The Husband starts to walk off]
Wife: [with sarcastic sweetness] Thaaaaaannnnkkkkkk youuuuuuuuuu.
Husband: [From down the hall] If I die my blood is on your hands. This whole house will be soaked in my blood because of you!
Wife: [calling back] That’s fine! I’m not lazy like you. I would clean it up immediately.
