Where do we go from here?

Here's the beginning of a script my brother Michael and I started a while back... enjoy, if you can:

A room; it overflows with row upon row of defunct fridges in various states of disrepair. Charles enters, in boxer shorts. He opens random fridge doors, stares, slams them shut, frustrated. Syd enters in dressing gown.

C: No cheese… …not a single chunk of cheddar in the entire house.
S: Try number 17.
C: What?
S: Try number 17.
C: Where the hell is number 17?
S: Down in the basement.
Cut to basement, dripping, puddles. Syd holds a lamp up. Charles opens another fridge.
C: Nope.
S: Number 39?
Cut to tropical rainforest, fridge opens, birds fly out.
C: Nope.
S: What’s that at the back?
C: Dairylea.
S: [shuddering] I didn’t realise things were that bad.
C: When do you get paid?
S: Not for another six months, they’re docking my wages until I’ve repaid them for all that milk I drunk.