INT. WALL STREET BUILDING. CEO’S OFFICE. DAY.

MUSIC IN: ?

Expensive Italian shoes pace the office. The resounding footsteps abruptly interrupted by the riffling pages. As the camera ascends to meet the man’s face we move from a leather chair to a mahogany desk. A silver key slides into the locked drawer granting admittance to the onlooker. Mounds of paperwork abound his desk, his face buried behind the walls of documents, he swiftly veers his hands from the drawer to the shredder. The sound of evidence being destroyed echoing in every corner of the room.

A quick scan of the office implies the man on screen is a highly revered individual in the financial world – a plaque on the wall reads “Businessman of the Year – 2007, 2008 and 2009”. A framed photo of his wife and family peeks from behind the piled pages on his desk. Police sirens swerving through traffic in the bustling city beneath make their way up to the CEO’s office. At this sound he picks up speed and moves the process along – pages to shredder, confetti to hefty, hefty dragged to the doorway of his office.

The quicker his hands’ movements, the faster the pages blaze into the plastic bag, the more the scene slows down. His heartbeat overpowering the noise of the shredder, the sweat drops falling down from his forehead onto the carpeted floor. His heartbeat keeps fastening as the pile of papers in his desk dwindle. With every thumb of the heartbeat he ducks behind the desk and rises up with the next thumb facing the office door. After a couple of turns at this routine he raises his head and hears a familiar voice: ‘Hey thought you’d want to have lunch together…’ His wife’s standing in the doorway. She fails to complete her sentence. Two stunned faces stare at each other in disbelief.

WIFE:
'What are you doing?'

MAN:
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

MONTAGE. INT. POLICE PRECINCT. INTERROGATION ROOM. DAY

…Police arrive on the scene and arrest the husband as well as the wife. Colleagues stand to the side and witness the dreaded walk of shame.

…Husband and wife are transported to the police precinct and settled into separate interrogation rooms.

…The husband is grilled by the so called “bad cop” while the wife endures the questions posed by the “good cop”.

The interrogations inaudible, MUSIC? plays in the background.

BAD COP:
Did you or did you not participate in illegal activities?

The husband pleads the fifth and stares sardonically at the detective.

GOOD COP:
Has your husband confessed any unlawful activities to you?

The wife stares at the detective pensively and feels she is on the brink of betraying her husband. Just as she’s about to let the incriminating words roll of her tongue a YOUR SUCKZ creeps into her mouth – puts a sock in it!

BLACK SCREEN.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
His suckz “ My bitch likes a rich dick”
YOUR SUCKZ Men ‘Put a sock in it!'
YOUR SUCKZ Women Sock it to ‘em!'

The husband is set free. He strolls out of the interrogation room, glances at the detective and leaves the room behind him – a devilish smile on his face.