She starts yelling:
“I’m so tired of seeing you there all the freacking day! Go move your ass! Look! I’m cooking a French recipe and I need some snails! Take this cash and get me some!”
The man tries to elaborate an excuse but the yelling-storm is too strong and blocks the local zone of his brain in charge of elaborating them.
The man slowly walks to the market and asks to buy some snails. He buys a notable number of them and then starts walking back home.
On his way back, though, he stumbles upon his favourite bar.
“Well, a drink is always welcome. My wife would be mad at me for making her wait though, so I’ll just drink one beer and get back.”
Nine beers later, the man checks his phone and contemplates in awe how he’s spent several hours inside the bar and it’s almost night-time.
The man picks up the snails and runs towards his home. While on the apartment block, he starts going upstairs, when he suddenly notices how a door opens a floor above him.
It’s his wife, for sure, ready to yell the hell out of him for being extremely late. Suddenly, the man realizes he only has one chance to survive this.
The wife gets out of her home, ready to gaze-murder his surely drunk husband, but instead finds him at the stairs surrounded by snails, yelling:
“C’mon, FASTER, goddammit! We’ll never make it in time at this pace!”