INT. LIVING ROOM
SKEET is at a music stand with a flute in his hand. He is
wearing a blazer. He is looking at sheet music on the stand.
MYRNA walks in.
MYRNA
OK. We have a situation here that
we need to resolve.
SKEET
Myrna, I have a thing tonight. I
need to learn this. So the
situation will have to wait.
MYRNA
Really. You want me to actually go
to your concert tonight, listen to
you play music, give you an
applause and ignore this?
Myrna holds up pink panties with her index finger.
SKEET
What's that?
MYRNA
Exactly.
SKEET
You find some panties and you
immediately assume I had some
dalliance. Jesus, I expect more of
you. That is so cliche.
MYRNA
Wait. You are dismissing this
little thing merely because it is
commonplace?
SKEET
You have obviously found some
panties in our bedroom and you are
making a rather hackneyed inference
that I have had an affair with
another woman. It's rather boring
of you.
MYRNA
Boring? Oh OK. Let me be more
original. Oh wow, look at these
cute little pink panties. I wonder
if my boyfriend is a transvestite.
Is that inventive enough for you.
Am I being imaginative?
SKEET
It's certainly better than accusing
me of an affair. Now can I get
back to my music?
MYRNA
Shall I hypothesize more scenarios?
Let me postulate...speculate...a
little guesswork leads me...right
back to a fucking affair.
SKEET
Myrna, did you take your
medication?
MYRNA
Stop that. This has nothing to do
with my medication.
SKEET
Excuse me, but assuming the worst
about others is part of anxiety.
You are having a panic attack.
MYRNA
You mean it's not normal for me to
have a panic attack if I catch my
boyfriend in the throes of an
affair? This is my psychiatric
issue?
SKEET
You did not catch me in the throes
of anything. This is what you do,
Myrna. You embellish, exaggerate.
You embroider the facts to justify
your little episodes. Take a Xanax
and give me some space.
MYRNA
Really? Did I embroider your
dresser drawer with these panties?
SKEET
And what were you going through my
dresser drawer for?
MYRNA
I did the laundry and was putting
away your shirts, asshole.
SKEET
Now you are getting vicious. This
is what happens. It starts out
with a bout of paranoia and it
deteriorates into nasty
accusations. Shall I call Dr.
Winston? I think this justifies a
call, yes?
A moment.
MYRNA
I'm really upset.
Myrna is fighting tears.
SKEET
OK.
MYRNA
No. This is not a normal really
upset. This is a really really
upset. I feel...I feel a little
faint.
SKEET
Take a deep breath.
MYRNA
Oxygen won't do anything. This is
not a breathing thing. This is...
this is... I don't know what it is.
But it just feels really bad.
Skeet places his flute on the music stand and goes to Myrna.
He takes the panties from Myrna's hands.
SKEET
How do you know this is not yours?
MYRNA
Because I don't like pink. OK.
Maybe I like pink. Sometimes I
like pink. I usually just buy
white underwear.
Skeet kisses Myrna on the forehead.
MYRNA (CONT'D)
Do I like pink?
SKEET
I don't know. Do you?
MYRNA
These are probably mine.
SKEET
It's best to presume that. Any
other assumption would merely...
aggravate your health.
MYRNA
And we don't want to do that.
Skeet walks back to his music stand and notices that Skeet
places the pink panties in his jacket pocket.
SKEET
And now it's time for me to prepare
for my performance.
Myrna stares at Skeet. Skeet raises the flute to his mouth.
CUT TO BLACK.
THE END.
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