She who will not be denied: What are you doing now?
He (insecure): Writing.
She who will not be denied: You're in the same spot I left you this morning. Didn't you do anything all day?
He (worried): What time is it?
She who will not be denied: It's seven. PM. Night. What time did you think it was?
He (lost and mumbling to himself) : It can't be. Last time I checked it was 9AM. Some kind of time warp?
She who will not be denied: You've been sitting there all day. Look at yourself. You're in the same clothes. I bet you didn't even take a shower. (she sniffs) You didn't. You stink. What's wrong with you?
He (concerned): Nothing, I think.
She who will not be denied: Is this how you're going to spend all your time? Just sitting there? I'm starting to worry about you. You can't just sit there all day like this. You need to get out. You need to start looking for a job.
He (holds his breath):
She who will not be denied: You're going to get out sometime soon, aren't you? I know you needed a rest, but this is a long time. You need to get back to work.
He (resigned): I sort of am working.
She who will not be denied: Don't you start with this. This is not working.
He (getting sad): I was sort of thinking. What if...?
She who will not be denied: What if what? What if we stop paying the mortgage? Will they kick us out? The answer is yes. Don't even think about it.
He (actually sad because he knows the answer): I was working here, reading some of the stuff I wrote. I was just wondering, (he looks into her eyes) what if I'm actually a writer?
She who will not be denied: (gasps) Don't you start with that crap. It's just an excuse for you to sit around all day and not shave.
He: But maybe--did you read any of my stuff?
She who will not be denied: (face getting red) I've seen as much as I can stand. It's time to be responsible again. It's time for you to get back to work.
He: But when I was working they were worried about my blood pressure. The cardiologist told me I'd be dead in five years if I couldn't find a way to reduce my hypertension. I didn't sleep a single complete night in 10 years. I was always sick, and I was never home. I was dying. My life was killing me. That's the way you find out things. Your life tells you to do something different. I think my life is telling me to be a writer.
She who will not be denied: (turns and walks away, speaks over her shoulder) That's not true and you know it. You have to stop rationalizing and get back to work. You know you can't support us on a writer's income, so cut it out. And he did not tell you you'd be dead in five years--just that you might have a heart attack. Lots of people have heart attacks and live. I don't want to hear it anymore.
(A door slams downstairs)
He: (to himself) Maybe I don't want to hear it anymore either. Who the hell am I kidding? I'm no fucking good and I'm just going to hurt everybody doing this shit. I must be out of my mind wasting my time like this.
(He yanks the computer power cord from the wall. Picks up the computer and throws it onto the carpet. Little plastic bits skitter into corners. He doesn't feel any better and now his computer is broken.)
(When he goes downstairs he realizes nobody is home. He's been arguing with himself.)
And now his computer is broken.