A Love Scene

Scene: A young, gorgeous, married couple are sitting in a parked car in a darkened lot.  The moon is glowing directly above their windshield, and faint clouds are scuttering across the black dome of the sky.  As the car's engine ticks it's cooling melody under the hood, the lovestruck couple gazes longingly at one another -- their hands intertwined with passion.


Him:  (With concern, bordering on impatience.)  Are you sure this is what you want?  I mean, I KNOW I could figure out something better if you just give me a few more minutes.

Her:  No, it's okay, really.  This place will be perfect...let's just do it.

Him:  Alright.  (Starts to unbuckle his seatbelt before pausing dramatically as with a sudden inspiration.)  No!  I know where we need to go!  (Enthusiastically aims to re-buckle the belt and turn the key in the ignition simultaneously.)

Her:  NO!  (Halting his hands with her own.)  Seriously, we're already here, I don't want to drive around any more.  I'm tired; I just want to go home as soon as we're done. 

Him:  But...(With broken-hearted tenderness.) I know where we need to go.  It's exactly what you've been dreaming of.  Do you even want to know what I was going to suggest?

Her:  Well, I guess so.  But we don't have to go there tonight -- can we save it for next time?  Where is it?

Him:  That barbecue place I went to with Mia the other night sells funnel cakes and they're topped with a scoop of ice cream.  You begged for a funnel cake not fifteen minutes ago.  THAT'S where I want to take you.

Her:  (Eyes slightly glazed and greedy.)  That...mmmm...that sounds good.  But, no.  Let's just stay here.  This place makes the best cinnamon rolls and now I can't stop thinking about cinnamon rolls.  I want one.  (Patting her swollen belly with gravity.)  The baby wants one.  Let's go. 

Him:  (Shaking his head slowly while opening his door.)  I'll never understand you.

(The couple exits the car, walking slowly, cuddling up to each other despite the man's confusion.  The woman reaches up on tip-toes to kiss her husband's bare neck and whisper one, last, secret desire.)

Her:  (Directly into his ear; softly.)  Doesn't pizza sound good?