Lights up on a large, bright bedroom. Franz and Martha lie naked on the bed. They have just finished disporting themselves. Franz, wears a pair of tortoise shell glasses.
Martha: How shall we kill him? Poison? A gun?
Franz: Yes. I want you.
Martha: Later, my love. We must find a way to kill my husband, who is also your uncle.
Franz: Right. (Pause) Wait. What are we talking about?
Martha: Oh, Franz, you’re such an idiot. Perhaps that’s why I love you.
Franz: I feel like I could kill for you.
Martha: Yes. About that, how shall we do it?
Franz: Well personally I prefer the couch…
Martha: Concentrate, Franz!
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