Fred waits in line at the unemployment office, reading want ads.
Back at the Derry apartment, Cliff looks at photo of Marie and Fred on the wall.
“Hey, sugar,” says Cliff, “You’d better step on it, or your husband’ll be home.”
“Ah, don’t worry – he’s job-hunting,” says Marie. “He won’t come home for another hour.”
Cliff swigs a drink out of a glass tumbler.
“And what if he does?” asks Marie.
“I don’t understand it,” says Cliff. “All this money around and he can’t get into it. What’s wrong with him?”
“I guess he just isn’t very bright,” says Marie.
The door opens. Fred walks in and sizes up Cliff.
“How do you do?” says Cliff.
“Fine, thanks,” says Fred. “Who are you?”
“Oh Fred, I want you to meet Cliff Scully, an old friend of mine,” says Marie, happily.
“Hiya, Freddy,” says Cliff, holding out a hand.
“Glad to know you, Scully,” says Fred, not shaking hands. “Get out.”
“A tough guy, huh?” says Cliff.
“Now listen, Fred,” says Marie. “You’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. I told ya: Cliff Scully’s an old friend. He’s asked me out, and I’m going out, and if you don’t like it, you know what you can do.”
“You heard me, chum,” says Fred. “Get out.”
“What do I do next?” Cliff asks Marie.