Narrator: As the night creeps by, a pasty film covers the Neils' mouths, teeth. (alarm clock ringing) They wake with the worst breath of the day. 

Both: Morning. 

- My breath! 

- Mouthwash. Ah! Scope? 

- I'll use mine. 

- Yours leaves your breath medicine-y, smell. Not minty, like Scope. 

- Oh, but mine cleans. 

- Can't clean your mouth better than Scope. 

- Okay. Ah, clean. 

Both: Morning! 

Narrator: Scope fights bad breath, doesn't give medicine breath.