good! . Wife: Gonna kill you! . [BITCHSNACKS laps from the bowl. Bitchsnacks: Anything you want, yes, Sir. [WIFE’s screaming fades. . . BITCHSNACKS groans and grins.] Oh, thank you, Sir. Wife: YES! . . . He steps back and admires his work.]
Husband: Feeling full? Did you want me to do all the cleaning? [EMPLOYEE 2 pulls a syringe from a pocket and plunges it into WIFE’s neck.]
Wife: NO! . [HUSBAND and WIFE close the door. But once the process is done, she’ll be happy it happened. There’s no shame. Husband: Well, warm ‘em up! Husband [takes enormous, calming breath]: Look, I just—
Wife: You sonofabitch, you’re going to jail! I don’t know where she gets it from. . Back to living room, at the very start of the fight.]
Husband [pleading]: Please, please, just listen to me—
Wife: No!
