Look at them. Sitting there in front of the TV. Every night the same thing. Glazed expressions, except when they're napping or reading the paper. Where is the communication? This is a relationship? Any minute she'll get up and go to the kitchen, come back with chips or ice cream. Then they'll munch side by side without a word. Can't they at least touch? They're going in senseless circles.
How does anyone live like this? The sheer boredom is frightening. I think I'd keel over and die if they got up and danced cheek to cheek. God, I wish I could dance. I wish I had cheeks. I wait and wait for something to happen. That couch has got to go. The wall paper, lamps, throw rug, end tables, even their wax flowers reek of blandness. No wonder their kids are hardly around, not that they're any more interesting.
I could have wound up with a dynamic family that took chances and shunned predictability. Hell, I could have been in a bordello--something to watch, pique my curiosity. But this...this is mind numbing. Oh look. He's moved his recliner another six inches back. Be still my heart.
Honey, did you feed the fish?
I thought you did.
No wonder they seem restless.
C'mon, fish don't get restless. That would be like saying fish get bored.
Just the same, that big one keeps staring at us. I'm going to feed them.
Yeah, sure. I never liked that big one eyeballing me.
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