Scene 1 - A living room in a modest home in Lancaster, PA. A middle-aged man and woman are standing in the middle of the room, looking agitated.
Man: Cut your goddamn hair! You look like a hag!
Woman: No! I like my hair long.
Man: Well...fine! Go live in Hagerstown, with all the other hags.
Woman: If you're going to insist on insulting me, I'm going to stop holding back and start telling YOU to cut your goddman POT BELLY!
Man: I don't have a pot belly!
Woman: Yes, you do! Why don't you go live in Pottstown? You'd fit right in.
Man: Wait...this isn't fun. Let's be nice to each other.
Woman: Yeah, I agree. You leave me alone about my hair, and I won't mention your gut. Okay?
Man: Okay. But I really do wish you'd cut your hair.
Woman: Yeah? Well, I really do wish you'd shut the fuck up about my hair!
Man: Stop yelling at me!
Woman: I'm not yelling!..................Okay, I guess I did yell just then, but it's because you drive me crazy!
Man: You ARE crazy!
Woman: So are you!
(Man leaves room, slams door behind him.)
Woman (yelling): Come back here, you coward!
Scene 2: Woman goes into bathroom and looks in the mirror.
Woman: Shit! I DO look like a hag. But it's not because of my hair. It's because I'm fucking old! He just thinks it's because of my hair, because I had short hair when we first met. But he had a flat stomach back then, too. Well, I'm not cutting my hair, no matter what. I want it to get so long that I could wrap it around my neck and hang myself with it, like Rapunzel did to her stepmother. But before I do that, I could experiment with pulling it back really tight, and see if it would smooth out the wrinkles in my haggy, old face.
(Bathroom door opens. Man peeks in...)
Man: Honey...I'm sorry. I won't say anything more about your hair, if you don't say anything about my gut.
Woman: Gut? What gut? You look great, Sweetie-pie.
Man: So do you, Baby Doll.
And they lived happily ever after.