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by Walter Wykes


[A perfect-looking house—the kind you find in magazines.  A perfect-looking WIFE puts the finishing touches on her perfect-looking living room.  The front door opens and HUSBAND enters.]

HUSBAND: Hi, Honey!  I’m home!

WIFE: Who are you?  What are you doing in my house?!

HUSBAND: I’m your new husband.  Where should I put my coat?

[He tries to kiss WIFE, but she backs away from him terrified.]

WIFE: Don’t touch me!  I’ll scream!  I’ll call the police!

HUSBAND: Aren’t you going to ask how my day was?

WIFE: [Attempting to pacify him.] How … how was your day?

HUSBAND: It was awful!  Just like every other day!  Same old boring job.  Same old boring boss.  Same old boring life.  And then, on the way home, suddenly it hit to me—why come home to the same old boring wife and house and kids and dog when I could try something new?

WIFE: But you can’t just—

HUSBAND: I’ve always admired your home. It’s very well kept.

WIFE: Thank you, but—

HUSBAND: I pass it every day on my way to work, so I thought today I’d give it a try. It has to be more exciting than the one I’ve been coming home to for the past fifteen years.

WIFE: But … I already have a husband.

HUSBAND: He can have my life.  Where does he work?

WIFE: He’s an executive.  At a technology company.

HUSBAND: Perfect!  I love technology!  All those little gadgets and stuff!  It’ll be great!

WIFE: Look, I’m … I’m sorry your life is so boring.  My life is boring too.  But you can’t just walk in here and expect us to—

HUSBAND: Oh!  I almost forgot!  I brought you flowers!

[He produces a bouquet of flowers from his coat.]

WIFE: You brought me flowers?

HUSBAND: They’re orchids—a symbol of rare beauty and eternal love—my love for you.

WIFE: My … my husband hasn’t brought me flowers in almost fifteen years.

HUSBAND: I wrote you a poem too.

WIFE: A poem?

HUSBAND: Would you like me to recite it?

WIFE: Well … if you went to the trouble of writing it … I … I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.

HUSBAND: You take my breath away.
Like the sunset or a summer day.
When I gaze at the moon
Or the ocean blue
They pale beside the sight of you.
You take my breath away.

WIFE: That’s beautiful.  You … you really wrote that?

HUSBAND: For you.

[Pause.  She considers this.]

WIFE: Do you pee in the shower?


WIFE: Hog the sheets?


WIFE: Snore?

HUSBAND: I don’t think so.

WIFE: Any history of baldness in your family?

HUSBAND: On the contrary.  We’re very hairy.

WIFE: Would you do your own laundry or wait for me to do it.

HUSBAND: Do it myself.

WIFE: Fix the toilet or call a plumber?

HUSBAND: Fix it.

WIFE: Shingle the roof or buy a new house?

HUSBAND: New house.

WIFE: Anniversary in Maui or Vegas?

HUSBAND:  Maui .

WIFE: Watch football or do me in the kitchen?

HUSBAND: Do you really have to ask?

WIFE: Will you constantly try to pork me in the rear?

HUSBAND: Only if you want me to.

WIFE: Tell me about your first wife.

HUSBAND: She was a nag. A nag with no boobs. She had boobs until the baby was born, but he sucked them right off. I’m a boob man, so it was completely unworkable.

WIFE: You left because she lost her boobs?

HUSBAND: There were other things.  But I have to be honest—it was mainly the boobs.

WIFE: What if I lose my boobs? Will you leave me too?

HUSBAND: It looks like you’ve got plenty to spare! [They make out.] Can we have sex now?

WIFE: Easy, Tiger.  You’ll have to win the kids over first.  Children! [Enter SON and DAUGHTER.] Children, meet your new father.

HUSBAND: Hi, kids.

SON: You’re not my father!  You’re a fake!  An imposter!

HUSBAND: Do you like baseball?

SON: Sure.

HUSBAND: I’ll take you to the Big Game.

SON: The Big Game?!  No way! [He embraces HUSBAND.] I love you, Dad!

DAUGHTER: What about me?  I hate baseball.

HUSBAND: Do you like shopping?


HUSBAND: Here—knock yourself out.

[He hands her a hundred dollar bill.]

DAUGHTER: A hundred dollar bill?!  You’re the greatest!

[She kisses HUSBAND on the cheek.]

WIFE: Go play in your room, kids.  Your father and I need some time alone.

DAUGHTER: Sure thing, Mom.

SON: See ya later, Dad.

[Exit kids.]

WIFE: [Seductively.] Now where were we?

[They make out.  Enter FIRST HUSBAND.]

FIRST HUSBAND: Hi, Honey!  I’m … what’s going on here?!  What are you doing to my wife?!

HUSBAND: I’m trying to pork her in the rear.

FIRST HUSBAND: I’m calling the police!

WIFE: Wait!  Give me your key.


WIFE: Your key.  Hand it over.

FIRST HUSBAND: I don’t understand.

WIFE: He’s replacing you.

FIRST HUSBAND: Replacing me?

WIFE: That’s right.  He’s in—you’re out.


WIFE: He brought me flowers!  When’s the last time you brought me flowers?!


WIFE: Exactly.  Now stop stuttering and hand over the key.

FIRST HUSBAND: But … what about the kids?!  You can’t take the kids away from me!  Kids! [Enter SON and DAUGHTER.] You don’t want me to go—do you kids?

SON: He’s taking me to the Big Game.

FIRST HUSBAND: I’ll take you!

SON: Too late.  You had your chance.


DAUGHTER: Sorry.  It’s nothing personal.

WIFE: [Her hand outstretched] The key.

FIRST HUSBAND: But I don’t want to go!  Please, I’ll … I’ll do anything!  Just let me stay!  I won’t bother you!  I’ll stay out of the way!  I’ll … I’ll be another kid!  Or the family dog!

SON: I’ve always wanted a dog!

DAUGHTER: Eww!  He’s gonna get hair everywhere!

SON: Please?!  Can I keep him?!  Can I?!

WIFE: I don’t know.  What do you think, Honey?

HUSBAND: He’d be your responsibility, Son.  We’re not going to feed him for you, or take him for walks, or clean up his poop—

SON: I’ll take care of him!  I promise! [To FIRST HUSBAND/DOG.] Come here, boy!  Sit!  Roll over!  Play dead!  Good boy!


DAUGHTER: Can I go shopping now?

WIFE: If your father will drive you.


HUSBAND: Well … your mother and I were sort of in the middle of something.

DAUGHTER: But I want to go now!  There’s a sale!


HUSBAND: Okay, just give us—


WIFE: I think the dog has to go.

HUSBAND: Son, take your dog outside.

SON: I can’t.  I have homework.

[Exit SON.]

DAUGHTER: Can I go shopping or not?


WIFE: Honey, could you take care of the dog?

HUSBAND: It’s not my dog.

WIFE: You told him he could keep it.


HUSBAND: Do we have a leash?

DAUGHTER: Is anybody listening to me?

[Enter SON with baseball and glove.]

SON: Hey Dad, can we play ball?

HUSBAND: I thought you had homework.

SON: I just finished.



HUSBAND: [To SON.] Here—take the dog outside.

SON: I have to poop.

[Exit SON.]

WIFE: [To HUSBAND] While you’re out, can you take the trash?


HUSBAND: Ahh … sure.

DAUGHTER: I hate this family!

WIFE: And could you do something about your daughter?


HUSBAND: What do you want me to—


HUSBAND: [To FIRST HUSBAND/DOG] Shut up, you stupid mutt!


[FIRST HUSBAND/DOG bites HUSBAND’S pants and pulls him towards the door.]

WIFE: I think he really wants to go.

DAUGHTER: What about me?!  Does anybody care what I want?!

[Enter SON.]

SON: The Big Game starts any minute!  We have to go!

HUSBAND: [To WIFE] When … when we get back it would be really nice to have some quality alone time if you know what I mean.

WIFE: It’ll have to wait, Dear.  You have responsibilities now.

HUSBAND: Responsibilities?!  This isn’t what I signed up for!  You’re just like my first wife!

WIFE: WHAT did you say?!!!


WIFE: Don’t compare me to that flat-chested bitch!

HUSBAND: I didn’t mean—

WIFE: Do you see these tits?!  Do you ever want to touch these tits again?!

HUSBAND: Yes!  Yes, I do!  That’s what I—


SON: We’re gonna miss the game!  We have to go NOW!

DAUGHTER: I asked first!  It’s not fair!

WIFE: If I ever hear you even THINK her name again—

DAUGHTER: You can’t just ignore me!

SON: You promised!

WIFE: I swear to God—


[As the cacophony rises, everyone converges on HUSBAND who climbs onto the couch to escape them.  They surround him like a pack of rabid wolves.]


Your balls will be so blue you’ll be begging me to fuck you in the ass!  Are you hearing me?!  Are we clear on this?!  It’s gonna take a LOT of ass-kissing to make up for this little slip-up, Mister!  Not only am I not like her, but she doesn’t exist!  She’s a figment of your imagination!  She’s not even a figment!  I am the first and only woman you’ve ever loved, buddy, and you will grovel at my feet if you want any pudding from my kitchen!


All I wanted to do was go to the Big Game!  But now it’s too late!  I already told all of my friends we were going, and they’re all going too, and now they’re going to see that I’m not really there and they’re going to know what losers we are!  I’ll bet you didn’t even buy tickets—did you?!  Liar!  My other Dad would have taken me!  I should have gone with him!  I’m never going to believe another word you say!  You’re a big fat ugly liar!


Am I invisible?  Am I not even here?  What do I have to do to get some attention in this house?!  Do I have to shoot somebody?  Do I have to blow something up?  Maybe I should get pregnant!  I should find the first boy who wants to fuck me and just pull up my skirt!  There are plenty of boys at school who’d like to fuck me!  Maybe they already have!  Maybe I just haven’t told you!  Or maybe I have but you don’t fucking listen!


Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!  Woof!



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Copyright © 2006 by Walter Wykes

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that Family 2.0 is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional and amateur stage performing, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound taping, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved.

Inquiries concerning all rights should be addressed to the author at sandmaster@aol.com



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