(GEORGE and MARTHA are sitting on their couches, both on their respective phones.)
MARTHA: What a dump.
GEORGE: What?
MARTHA: My sister's house. Look at it.
(She shows GEORGE her phone.)
GEORGE: Oh. Yes. That is a dump.
MARTHA: Who said that?
GEORGE: What?
MARTHA: What a dump. Who said--
GEORGE: Can I post that photo of us from the party earlier, Martha?
MARTHA: Why can't you just post it on your own Instagram?
GEORGE: It's a photo of the both of us.
MARTHA: Which means, you're in it, George. YOU'RE IN IT, GEORGE. So put it on YOUR profile.
GEORGE: Why do we even have a joint Instagram if we're not going to use it?
MARTHA: I never wanted that damn joint Instagram account. You're the one who wanted it. Not me.
GEORGE: I'll get rid of it then.
(MARTHA jumps off the couch.)
MARTHA: You wouldn't dare. YOU WOULDN'T DARE GET RID OF OUR JOINT INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT.
(GEORGE stands up.)
GEORGE: Try me, Martha.
MARTHA: I'll unlike every photo of yours I've ever liked. Every damn one, George!
GEORGE: Do it, baby. I'd love to see you do it.
MARTHA: Don't forget, George, I have that photo of you where you lips look thin.
GEORGE: And I have a photo of you where your hand isn't on your hip.
MARTHA: I never should have married you.
GEORGE: Okay, I just need to stop you really quick, but the light from that lamp is hitting you--
MARTHA: It looks good?
GEORGE: It looks really good.
MARTHA: Should I relax my face?
GEORGE: No, the rage is tightening the skin on your forehead.
MARTHA: God, George, take the photo! What are you waiting for?
(He holds up his phone and snaps a photo of her. Then, he shows her his phone.)
GEORGE: What do you think?
MARTHA: Send it to me.
GEORGE: Okay.
(He does, then--)
GEORGE: And I'll tell you something else, baby! Back when I was in the war, we were all one. We never would have had separate Instagram accounts.
MARTHA: You think anybody but me would share an Instagram account with you? A sap like you? Oh, George.
(She starts laughing.)
GEORGE: People would love what I bring to the table. You've seen what I can do with a filter. With tint. With saturation. I gave you cheekbones, Martha. Don't you ever forget that.
MARTHA: My father gave me those cheekbones. I sent him the photo and he's the one who tweaked it so I could feel good about posting it. So I could feel good about myself FOR ONCE in my damn life. God knows YOU never made me feel that way.
GEORGE: Your father can barely unlock his phone. Let alone give you cheekbones in a photo where you have NONE.
MARTHA: My father was using the Clarendon filter before you were born, GEORGE.
GEORGE: Do you know how many followers I would have if I didn't devote all my time to our joint account? Trying to get more followers for this pitiful venture we're both tied to.
MARTHA: You live for that account. You love having your name next to my name after that at symbol. It drives you wild, doesn't it?
GEORGE: You're holding me back.
MARTHA: I'm elevating you, George. Just like I've always done. Whenever you post a photo I'm not in, you get five likes or less.
GEORGE: What about my puppy photo?
MARTHA: It was a photo of a PUPPY. And it wasn't even YOUR puppy. You saw it at the park and you took a picture of it. It's creepy. YOU'RE creepy. My father always said you were creepy, George. He begged me not to start a joint Instagram account with you.
GEORGE: Oh, you don't remember how the joint account was started Martha? That night, when you were hot with sweat, laying out on the beach near Cosa Mesa, the stench of other men wafting off your once-lithe body--
MARTHA: You sniveling twerp. You weaselly...WEASEL!
GEORGE: Watch it, Martha.
MARTHA: I should go into that joint account and delete all those photos.
GEORGE: Then just delete the whole account!
MARTHA: NOOOOOOOO!
(She throws a vase against the wall. He grabs her.)
GEORGE: Martha, stop it.
MARTHA: Get your hands off me, you brute.
GEORGE: But--your hair looks amazing right now.
(A beat.)
MARTHA: It does?
GEORGE: Can I--
MARTHA: Hurry up, I'm losing my train of thought.
(GEORGE takes a photo with his phone and shows it to her.)
MARTHA: I don't know. My eyes look wild.
GEORGE: Not really.
MARTHA: Are you sure?
GEORGE: I think it looks good.
MARTHA: Okay, send it to me.
GEORGE: Can't I just post it to--
MARTHA: FINE! POST IT TO THE JOINT ACCOUNT!
(He does. MARTHA starts to cry.)
MARTHA: I'm never going to get my own likes.
GEORGE: You get your own likes all the time.
MARTHA: Nobody goes to my account. Nobody sees me there. Nobody knows I'm alive. Not even me.
GEORGE: We got a comment.
MARTHA: What does it say?
GEORGE: It's a heart emoji...from your father.
MARTHA: Like the comment.
GEORGE: No.
MARTHA: George, it's Daddy--
GEORGE: It's weird.
MARTHA: GEORGE!
GEORGE: I'm deleting the comment!
MARTHA: YOU WOULDN'T DARE!
End of Play
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