Daylight.

 

A suburban bedroom, pink and frilly.

 

Ian, a grey 47 year old, is sitting on his bed, regarding his toes.

 

Ian: Kath. You seen the nail trimmers?

 

Kath [off]: In the night-stand, babe.

 

Ian reaches into the night stand and riffles around.

 

Ian: No.

 

Kath [off]: Coming.

 

Kath, a vibrant 41 year old, enters.

 

Ian: My toenails need a trim.

 

Kath looks down.

 

Kath: I’ll do that, luv. You close your eyes, pet.

 

Kath reaches under the bed and pulls out a pair of shears. She place the blade either side of Ian’s neck. She snips Ian’s head off. Blood spirts all over the pink fluffy bedroom and Kath. She wipes her hair from her eyes.

 

Blackout.