I don't know too much about The Music Man, but I wrote it for a friend of mine. Tell me if you think they're out of character or if you have any suggestions. :)

Hair: A Man's Nail Care Tool

"Harold! You must have some of the most horrible hands I have ever laid eye on. What in the name of sweet tangerines did you do today?" Said Marian with a mischievous expression on her face. She knew exactly what he did. He was suppose to clear the weeds from the flower garden, but he got Tommy to do it for some change, as usual. She came home early from the library today and saw him paying him with some coins. She also saw Harold run his hands through and rub the dirt from the "weeds he pulled" all over his hands.

"Why sweet, I have no problem with the dirtiness of my hands, are we having company?" said Harold confused. Marian didn't usually act like this anymore, she had grown accustomed to his lose manners or really more of what he liked to call manners.

"Oh no, it's just that, well, I was planning on having supper soon enough. And your hands are quite dirty, I'd hate for you to have a bad taste or at the very worst, possibly get sick! You know we can't really afford you missing work and my missing work." She sweetly sighed, she was piling it on like sugary molasses. She wanted to softly back him into a corner, and so far, she felt she was succeeding. He was trying to get away with this silly lie of his and Marian wasn't going to stand for it, at least if she could have it her way.

"But sweetie.." Harold slowly replied. "It's just a little smudge of dirt. It couldn't hurt a fly." It certainly didn't hurt Tommy…he thought, what is she trying to get at with all of this dirt talk. Surely Marian couldn't have found out about his and Tommy's little deal. Unless she did…but she couldn't have, she was at the library all day…wasn't she….

" Yes Harold, it's a smudge of dirt today, it's gone tomorrow, but then it's a head cold and you're out of work for a week. And where would we be then?" She stated smartly, hands on hips and all.

"Well, Marian, I would be on that lovely couch over there and you would be right next to me, making sure that I was just fine. And I will be, I assure you, if this dirt stays right where it is." She could tell that Harold was starting to get the slightest bit peeved. She enjoyed this form of wifely flirting with her husband, it reminded her that this was all real and that this is and will be her life for now on. And she was winning this little spat.

"Well the least you could do is take the dirt from underneath your finger nails, you look quite wild with your dirt covered hands and that sunburn…did you get it while picking the weeds today? I told you to stop when the sun became over bearing." Harold didn't know he had a sunburn, and in truth, he didn't, but Marian took much enjoyment out of his bewilderment. So she was going to confuse him as much as she pleased and as much as she could get away with.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I wasn't aware of my sunburn…I wasn't aware of the afternoon sun, there hasn't been a day as fine as this in quite a while, one must take advantage, you know."

"Of course dear" She reached over and lovingly set her hand upon his and gently gave it a squeeze. She was thinking of just letting him go this time, but as she was staring at his face, taking in every detail, wrinkle, and freckle as one who loves another often does, he slowly inched forward and, while she was in such deep thought and concentration, kissed her very smoothly and gentlemanly on the cheek and she knew that was Harold's little way of apologizing for whatever he had done, or whatever he had thought he had done. And that little kiss filled her full of childish pride. "I can give you some balm later for the sunburn, but now you must do something about these hands of yours" she put both of his rather smooth hands (the hands of a con man she thought, but she quickly pushed that away) in her small, paper cut ones and gently shook them about. "I will not have these grubby hands touching my white table linens and my good silver wear, you have no choice but to wash them and clean under the nails, they're absolutely horrifying." She dismissed him quickly, her dress skirts swooshing about in her departure to the kitchen. He jumped up and followed suit. She went to the cupboards and started setting things out, preparing the table for dinner, he tried to talk over her bustling, but the task was proving to be rather difficult. Little did he know it was more because of the lack of her effort to listen to his charismatic persuading than anything else.

"Darling Dear. Sweet, sweet flower I will wash them if you insist, but I am not bothering with underneath. They'll be cleaned later anyway." He shrugged, couldn't she see that he was a man and whether he had earned the dirt on his hands through hard labor and sweat or chosen acquirement did not matter. The point was that he was a man and had the same right to his dirt as she did to her hair pins and such "lady" things. That was it. This was his dirt, he was going to put up a fight for it, and he was going to win.

"Now I say again, I will wash my hands but I refuse to clean underneath my fingernails until my bath." Well Marian was completely baffled at this new statement.

"Harold, just how are you going to wash underneath your nails in the bath when you have no file?" She questioned.

"I do wash my hair Marian, I am after all a married man."