Narrator: As the night creeps by, a pasty film covers the Neals' mouths, teeth. They wake with the worst breath of the day. 

- Mm. Morning. 

- Morning. My breath. 

- Mouthwash. 

- Ah. Scope? 

- I'll use mine. 

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

- Ah, but mine cleans. 

- Can't clean your mouth better than Scope. 

- Okay. 

- Ah. Hmm. (overlapping) Morning. 

Narrator: Scope fights bad breath. Doesn't give medicine breath.