(Scene: Tuesday night. Random “Pier One Imports” in Central PA. Brooke and Army Boy are wandering, looking slightly lost. No, not quite. Brooke looks pensive. Army Boy looks boooored.)
Brooke: Oooo, pillows. Look at all the colors. *touches one to feel texture*
Army Boy: That’s not bad.
Brooke: Yeah, you’re right. We need a couch before we can get pillows.
(They continue walking)
Army Boy: That’s ugly…. That’s ugly….. ew, that’s ugly….
Brooke: Babe? Not constructive. Also, you’re saying that out loud.
AB: Oh right, sorry.
(Army Boy *points* at a display of elaborate Mardi Gras masks)
AB: Look! Feathers! (in an exaggerated whisper) For French ticklers!
Brooke: (blushing in mortification) I didn’t know you knew what that MEANT. Weren’t you raised among wolves Mennonites?
(They meander over to a section of Christmas decorations, on sale, where Army Boy stops in puzzlement before a stack of decorative “trees.” I use the term loosely, because to women, they are CLEARLY trees. To men? Not so much.)
AB: (looks at Brooke. Looks at trees. Looks ….confused.) Hats?
Brooke: We’re leaving.
(And they do. End scene.)