The Donahues Episode 204

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Ryan tries to find a way to recreate the time he spent with Jason, but has to make sure he remembers it this time, Ethan and Jamie fight about Ethan’s New Year incident and Jacob searches for a job

Submitted: January 10, 2015

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Submitted: January 10, 2015

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THE DONAHUES

 

“DO NOT REJECT ME IN OLD AGE”

 

TV-MA DLS

 

“Do not reject me in my old age. Do not forsake me when my strength is gone”

  • Psalm 71

 

 

(We start with Ryan in his music appreciation class, looking tired as all hell. Ryan looks at his laptop is in front of him as his Professor lectures. Cut to his Professor lecturing)

 

MR. VERGARA: In The Baroque period, if the ensemble of musicians wanted to play together, that was called a Tutti. Now, can someone look up what Tutti means?

 

(Ryan looks it up)

 

RYAN: It means “all together”.

 

MR. VERGARA: Yes, very good. That is how you can remember it. Now, Baroque music was characterized by instruments like the violin, the viola, the cello, the bass and the harpsichord, also known as a harp. There is almost always a soloist-

 

STUDENT: Hold on, a harpsichord and a harp are two different things-one’s a precursor to the piano and the other one is a stringed instrument with strings running at an angle on a soundboard.

 

MR. VERGARA: I’m sorry, who’s the one with the Italian accent right now?

 

ANOTHER STUDENT: (Mock Italian accent) I am the one with the Italian accent! That’s a spicy meat-a-ball-a!

 

RYAN: Offensive!
 

MR. VERGARA: Very offensive!

 

RYAN: I’m offended!

 

MR. VERGARA: Very offended!
 

RYAN: To be fair though, you were wrong about the harp and the harpsichord thing.

 

MR. VERGARA: My English is not perfect. Succhiami il cazzo, ragazzi, tutti.

 

(SUBTITLES: “Suck my cock, you guys, all of you, together”)

 

RYAN: I recognized that word at the end! Tutti! All together!

 

MR. VERGARA: Very good, Ryan.

 

RYAN: What did the rest of it mean?

 

MR. VERGARA: It meant “we are in this all together”. Now let’s move on.

 

(Cut to Ryan and Michael in Ryan’s room. Ryan is sitting on his bed with his laptop open)

 

RYAN: Michael, you didn’t tell me that Jason was sixteen years old!
 

MICHAEL: Oh yeah. He’s sixteen years old. I didn’t remember the fact that vividly because I was high as a motherfucker, and so was he. After only one toke of the marijuana smoke.

 

RYAN: Michael, this complicates things further, not only does Jason not remember the good impression I made on him on New Years, because of how drunk he got, but even if I do make another good impression the next time I see him, and we fuck, it might seem weird to other people, or even him, because of the age difference.

 

MICHAEL: Yeah, it might seem illegal. You’re turning twenty in June and he’s turning seventeen in April.

 

RYAN: No, legally, I’m fine, the age of consent is sixteen in Vermont. So as long as we don’t cross the border into the Saudi Arabia of the New England, New York, then we should be fine.

 

MICHAEL: Yeah, New York is so sexually oppressive, with its legal gay marriage and traffic-stopping pride parades. Why are you so goddamn sure you’re going to screw him anyway? How do you even know he’s into guys?

 

RYAN: Come on, Michael.

 

MICHAEL: Fine, but how do you know he’s into you? Don’t liquor him up or anything.

 

RYAN: I’m not going to, clearly that’s what I need to avoid. This guy’s Recycle Bin is probably the biggest file in his brain, and I can’t have it going there.

 

MICHAEL: So what’re you gonna do to make this happen?

 

RYAN: I’m going to set something up for the weekend, you, me, Brennan and Jason. Just recreating what happened on New Year’s Eve.

 

MICHAEL: Why do I have to be involved?!

 

RYAN: Because I want my intentions as veiled as possible, Michael!

 

MICHAEL: Oh my God, and what makes you think I’m going to play along here?

 

RYAN: You can get super high with Brennan-I will pay for you to buy the bluest dream of whatever the fuck you want.

 

MICHAEL: I’m in.

 

(Cut to Ryan on the phone in his front hallway)

 

RYAN: Hey Brennan.

 

BRENNAN: (On the phone) Hey.

 

RYAN: So listen, I was wondering what you were doing this weekend.

 

BRENNAN: Uh, just, jerking off and literally eating shit. Why?

 

RYAN: Because-wow, that was honest, anyway, because I was thinking you and your friend Jason should come over to my house, that was a fun night we had.

 

BRENNAN: The one where Jason vomited in your bath tub?

 

RYAN: Yes.

 

BRENNAN: Oh yeah, that was a blockbuster night. I’ll ask Jason.

 

RYAN: Thanks.

 

BRENNAN: Should I bring alcohol? I have a connection.

 

RYAN: Umm…I kind of don’t want Jason to puke everywhere again.

 

BRENNAN: I’ll keep him under control. Come on, these are the last few days of Winter Break.

 

RYAN: I mean, I’m a Winter-mester.

 

BRENNAN: And I’m not even in college, so I don’t know what I’m talking about-I just want to drink.

 

RYAN: Alright then, call me later about this.

 

BRENNAN: Sounds great, bye.

 

(Ryan hangs up. Cut to Ethan and Mayor Sarandon in Mayor Sarandon’s office)

 

MAYOR SARANDON: I have big plans for 2015.

 

ETHAN: Let’s hear them.

 

MAYOR SARANDON: Number one-be myself.

 

ETHAN: Oh, so these aren’t policy plans?

 

MAYOR SARANDON: Policy plans? This isn’t a year for policy. Republicans are taking over Congress tomorrow and Obama will veto every damn thing they pass-if they even pass anything. Did you hear about Harry Reid?

 

ETHAN: Yes.

 

MAYOR SARANDON: In November he lost his job as Senate Majority Leader, and last week he broke his ribs and face bones in an “exercise equipment” accident. What an unfortunate son of a bitch. How much you want to bet that “exercise equipment” was a fuck swing?

 

ETHAN: Oh my God, no money!

 

MAYOR SARANDON: Why? Sex is a good stress reliever.

 

ETHAN: And he’s a 75-year old man! I don’t want to picture that.

 

MAYOR SARANDON: It doesn’t matter, this year is going to be a year for saying, and NOT doing! (Mayor Sarandon stands up) I’m going to a massage appointment. Cancel all my meetings.

 

ETHAN: I’m not your secretary.

 

MAYOR SARANDON: Fine, then ask her to do it.

 

(Mayor Sarandon leaves the room. Ethan gets a call, and he answers it)

 

ETHAN: Hello?

 

JAMIE: (On the phone) Meet me for lunch.

 

ETHAN: …Alright, where?

 

JAMIE: I don’t know, a lunch place- (Cut to Ethan and Jamie at a dimly-lit, fancy restaurant) how did we end up here?

 

ETHAN: I don’t know, it’s quiet, nobody’s here.

 

JAMIE: Yeah, because it’s noon on a Monday, and this place serves food with apples stuffed in their mouths.

 

ETHAN: What did you want to discuss, Jamie?

 

JAMIE: I wanted to talk about what happened on New Year’s Day.

 

ETHAN: What happened? Nothing happened. It’s all water under the bridge.

 

JAMIE: No, it upsets me that you would think that your age bothers me in any way-it doesn’t-

 

ETHAN: Then why are we discussing it?

 

JAMIE: Because it’s clearly become an issue!

 

ETHAN: You’re making it an issue!
 

JAMIE: It’s not just your incident-

 

ETHAN: Oh my God.

 

JAMIE: It’s the fact that I didn’t feel comfortable around your older friends on Wednesday night, and neither did my friends.

 

ETHAN: Who cares about them?! This is about US and how we relate to one another! And maybe if your friends didn’t look at their phones so much that wouldn’t have been an issue.

 

JAMIE: See?! That’s an ageist observation! Millennials look at their phones when they feel uncomfortable, Ethan, and meanwhile you Gen X-ers just drink more. There’s an age gap here.
 

ETHAN: Yeah, Jamie, it’s a twenty-two year difference! But that doesn’t affect anything about our relationship other than your ability to quote Dragnet.

 

JAMIE: See? I don’t know what that is! But I want to know. I want to get a better sense of who you are, what makes you tick.

 

ETHAN: Am I on Person To Person all of a sudden?!

 

JAMIE: Why don’t you introduce me to your parents? Wouldn’t that be nice?

 

ETHAN: Oh boy.

 

JAMIE: What?

 

ETHAN: Nothing. I just realize there’s no reason to refuse that request. Just beware.

 

JAMIE: I have grandparents, Ethan, I know what old people are like, it’ll be fine.

 

ETHAN: You have grandparents, Jamie, but you don’t have….elderly parents.

 

(Cut to Leonard and Lynn Donahue sitting in their house in Rumford, Maine)

 

LEONARD: So Ethan is bringing his “bae” over?

 

LYNN: What did you just say?

 

LEONARD: I saw this term on the internet the other day. “Baaaaaaeee”.

 

LYNN: What’s it mean?

 

LEONARD: It stands for “baaaaeeee”.

 

LYNN: Ohhhh…

 

LEONARD: “Baaeeeeeeeee!”

 

LYNN: Ohhhhhhh…

 

LEONARD: Are we going insane?
 

LYNN: Maybe.

 

(There is a knock at the door. Leonard stands up)

 

LEONARD: Oh no. It’s a fiend.

 

LYNN: It’s probably just Ethan and his-

 

LEONARD AND LYNN: “Baaaeeeeeeeee-“

 

(Cut to Ethan and Jamie at the front door, outside, hearing Lynn and Leonard howl “bae” from the inside. They are very confused)

 

JAMIE: …What the fuck?

 

ETHAN: I have no idea what’s going on.

 

(Leonard and Lynn stop howling and open the door)

 

LEONARD: Ethan!

 

LYNN: Ethan, my boy!

 

ETHAN: Hi, mom. Hi, dad. This is Jamie.

 

(Jamie waves)

 

JAMIE: Hi!

 

LYNN: She’s so young!

 

LEONARD: Yeah, Ethan, I mean, no offense Jamie, but I didn’t think you’d become like your mother and rob the cradle.

 

ETHAN: What are you talking about? You’re older than mom.

 

LEONARD: No, I mean, your mother literally robbed a cradle during her post-partum depression.

 

ETHAN: Oh my God!

 

LYNN: I returned the child! It was a temporary fugue state! I made a full recovery!

 

ETHAN: Alright then. Was this after-

 

LEONARD: Yes, it was after Paul was born.

 

ETHAN: Got it.

 

LYNN: I wanted to trade up.

 

ETHAN: Right. Well, thanks for that warm reception, guys.

 

LEONARD: I am so very sorry, Jamie, would you like some coffee or something?

 

JAMIE: That’s alright, and no, I’m fine.

 

LYNN: What? She doesn’t drink coffee?

 

ETHAN: You’re not Jewish! Okay?

 

(Cut to Jacob in a suit, sitting in front of a manager at Bernie’s Grinders. The manager is looking as his resume)

 

MANAGER: You’re over-dressed.

 

JACOB: It’s better than under-dressing.

 

MANAGER: It’s not better than being appropriately dressed though.

 

(Jacob looks around)

 

JACOB: I guess…

 

(The manager puts down the resume)

 

MANAGER: I’m Mr. Portnoy.

 

JACOB: Nice to meet you.

 

MR. PORTNOY: Here at Bernie’s Grinders, we grind out subs like they’re hoagies.

 

JACOB: Huh.

 

MR. PORTNOY: We’re looking for someone who can work the register, be courteous to customers and can memorize our menu.

 

JACOB: You’ve got your man.

 

MR. PORTNOY: Tell me a bit about yourself.

 

JACOB: Geez, wasn’t prepared for this question.

 

MR. PORTNOY: Really?

 

JACOB: Yeah. Phew. I don’t know.

 

(Pause)

 

MR. PORTNOY: Get out.

 

JACOB: Could I get a Grinder to Go, though?

 

MR. PORTNOY: I…suppose.

 

(Cut to Jacob outside Bernie’s Grinders holding a “Grinder To Go” bag and lighting a cigarette. He inhales and exhales smoke)

 

JACOB: Shit, where do I apply now? Maybe…

 

(Cut to Jacob sitting in front of the desk of a movie theatre manager in a goatee and in a dark suit)

 

MANAGER: Well hi there, I’m Johnny Lightning.

 

(Jacob shakes his hand)

 

JACOB: Nice to meet you, Johnny.

 

(The two disconnect hands)

 

JOHNNY: So, I was takin’ a look at your resume-

 

JACOB: Good.

 

JOHNNY: NO I WASN’T!!

 

(Johnny crumples it up and throws it away, and then laughs, as Jacob sits there confused)

 

JACOB: Um…

 

JOHNNY: You don’t need resumes in show business, buddy!
 

JACOB: This is a movie theatre.

 

JOHNNY: This is SHOW BUSINESS! And by applying here you’re applying for INFLUENCE!

 

JACOB: Isn’t emptying trash cans in my job description?

 

JOHNNY: Everyone started somewhere. Johnny Depp got his start emptying trash cans.

 

JACOB: Is that right?

 

JOHNNY: Well, he got his start by starring in a movie about a guy who empties trashcans and then finds an Alien skull in one of them. But it’s the same concept.

 

JACOB: Sure. Do I get the job?

 

JOHNNY: No, we need someone a little hangrier for this job.

 

JACOB: Angrier?

 

JOHNNY: Hangrier.

 

JACOB: Oh.

 

JOHNNY: It’s like hungry and angry-

 

JACOB: Yeah, I know, it’s stupid as shit. (Cut to Jacob on a balcony at some hotel with a cigarette in his mouth) This is hopeless, I can’t even get hired at a goddamn fast food place or even a movie theatre! I have a baby on the way and no future even if I manage to graduate from CCV! I might as well just jump!

 

(Jacob sits on the balcony ledge as he sheds a single tear. Pan out to reveal the balcony is on the first floor and a Hotel Receptionist walks over)

 

HOTEL RECEPTIONIST: Ms. Zinke is ready for you, Mr. Donahue.

 

JACOB: Oh okay. (Jacob jumps down from the balcony) Why do you guys have balconies on the first floor?

 

HOTEL RECEPTIONIST: Come with me. And put out your cigarette.

 

(Jacob puts out his cigarette and throws it in a nearby trash can and follows the receptionist. Cut to Jacob sitting in front of a woman in a suit in her late twenties reviewing Jacob’s resume)

 

MS. ZINKE: So your experience includes working at a restaurant.

 

JACOB: Yes it does.

 

MS. ZINKE: That appears to be all your experience includes.

 

(Ms. Zinke looks at Jacob, and he licks his lips nervously)

 

JACOB: Uh-huh.

 

MS. ZINKE: Listen, Mr. Donahue. We did a background check on you and found that you’re an ex-con.

 

JACOB: Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry-

 

MS. ZINKE: No, no, it’s fine. We see you lied on your application, but it doesn’t matter. The Department of Labor offers a tax credit through the Work Opportunity Tax Credit Program, and we can receive up to 2,400 dollars a year by hiring an ex-con.

 

JACOB: Wow, really?

 

MS. ZINKE: Yes. So I’m gonna start you as a Bell Hop. It pays 9.15 an hour.

 

JACOB: Nice, forty-two cents above minimum wage.

 

MS. ZINKE: No, it’s the new minimum wage in Vermont, as of five days ago.

 

JACOB: Why couldn’t you just let me feel special?

 

MS. ZINKE: Because you’re not.

 

(Cut to Ryan opening his front door to see Jason and Brennan)

 

RYAN: Hey you guys!
 

JASON: Hi, Riley.

 

BRENNAN: It’s Ryan, Jason.

 

JASON: Sorry.

 

RYAN: I’s alright, man, I know you have drunken amnesia. Come in.

 

(Jason and Brennan come in)

 

JASON: Is your mom and dad here, man? I don’t want them to hear that.

 

RYAN: My dad doesn’t live with me. My mom and her boyfriend are not here at the moment, don’t worry.

 

JASON: Oh, so I can puke anywhere then?

 

RYAN: Uh-

 

JASON: I’m totally kidding.

 

(Ryan laughs)

 

RYAN: That’s awesome, allow me to re-introduce myself, man, I’m Ryan.

 

JASON: I’m Jason. Nice to meet you for the second time.

 

(Ryan and Jason shake hands as Michael walks out of the bathroom)

 

MICHAEL: Sorry, I was in there.

 

BRENNAN: Jason, this is Michael.

 

JASON: Hey, I’m Jason.

 

MICHAEL: I know. Hopefully this is the last time we met for the first time.

 

(Jason laughs)

 

JASON: Yeah. Let’s head upstairs I guess.

 

(They go upstairs. Cut to Ryan, Jason, Brennan and Michael upstairs, sitting in the living room)

 

BRENNAN: So, I was unfortunately unable to acquire any booze.

 

RYAN: Oh, that’s too bad.

 

JASON: I’m sure there’s a way we could get some.

 

RYAN: No, liquor stores in Burlington are closed after eight.

 

(Ryan clears his throat)

 

MICHAEL: Oh, um, we could get high! On weed!

 

JASON: No, I don’t smoke weed, I have anxiety issues with weed. That’s one rule I don’t break.

 

(Michael tries to stop himself from laughing, but then gains composure)

 

MICHAEL: Oh, okay. Understandable.

 

BRENNAN: I guess I’d be down for smoking.

 

RYAN: I’m with Jason, I don’t smoke weed anymore. But if you guys want to do it outside or something, Jason and I could think of something for us to do.

 

MICHAEL: Okay! Brennan, help me back a bowl outside.

 

BRENNAN: In the nine degree weather?

 

MICHAEL: Uh-huh. It’ll feel like getting stoned on the top of Mount Everest. And you won’t have to worry about some adult catching you, because rescue choppers aren’t coming. And that’s a cool feeling.

 

BRENNAN: I’m intrigued for now, but don’t say that while I’m high!

 

MICHAEL: Alright.

 

(Brennan and Michael head downstairs as Ryan turns towards Jason)

 

RYAN: So, Jason. How’s junior year going?

 

JASON: It blows. Mr. Pannell keeps asking me to remove my piercings in class, and I keep telling him I can’t without bleeding everywhere, and then he talks about the Romans only removed their gauges when they decided to stick them in Jesus’ hands.

 

RYAN: Dude, I had Mr. Pannell!

 

JASON: Really?

 

RYAN: Yeah, oh, Mr. Pannell and all the crazy illegal shit he said in a public school.

 

JASON: Yeah, bro. He’s crazy.

 

RYAN: Does KDGM still suck?

 

JASON: Way worse than before.

 

RYAN: Hmm.

 

JASON: And it sucked before.

 

RYAN: I was on it, before.

 

JASON: Oh really? I never watched it before.

 

RYAN: Yeah, no one did. But they still believed it-

 

JASON: Sucked.

 

RYAN: Yeah. And they were right.

 

(Jason laughs)

 

JASON: Hey man, what music are you into?

 

RYAN: All kinds of music, punk, metal, folk, electronic music, Hip-Hop, rock-

 

JASON: Are you into pop punk?

 

RYAN: Pardon?

 

JASON: I asked if you were into pop punk.

 

RYAN: Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re still sixteen.

 

JASON: What?

 

RYAN: Nothing, you know what? Let me broaden you musical world, Jason.

 

(Ryan stands up)

 

JASON: What are you going to show me?

 

RYAN: A group by the name of Pro Era. I kind of doubt you’ll like them immediately, but I’m sure they’ll grow on you like that ear piercing infection.

 

(Jason touches his ear)
 

JASON: Yeah, I gotta get that taken care of. Wasn’t the President’s daughter caught wearing a Pro Era shirt and it caused a lot of people to lose their shit?

 

RYAN: Yeah, especially since Pro Era instagrammed the picture of Malia wearing it. When you Instagram pictures of the President’s daughter without his permission, it normally doesn’t go well. Maybe Obama will send Pro Era to Cuba, just like he sent Jay-Z to Cuba, but I kind of feel like Pro Era will be headed to the Southeastern End of Cuba, the Bay area.

 

(Jason laughs)

 

JASON: Right. “Pro Era: Live From Guantanamo”!

 

(Ryan laughs)

 

RYAN: Yep. That’s the true underground. But ignore all that contextual crap and I’ll show you how awesome Pro Era is.

 

(Ryan goes over to his record collection and Jason turns to him)

 

JASON: You know what makes music sound good no matter what it is?

 

RYAN: What?

 

JASON: Drugs. (Ryan turns to Jason and the two smile and nod. Cut to Jason and Ryan standing outside Ryan’s house, in front of the mailbox. Jason is lighting a cigarette) Know when he’s gonna get here?

 

RYAN: People call him the Ninja dealer-you never see him coming, you never see him leave-you just find the drugs somewhere.

 

JASON: How will we know where to look? I mean is it- (Jason opens up Ryan’s mailbox to see a baggie of Ecstasy tablets) in here-oh wow, it is!
 

RYAN: Sly son of a bitch. And let me check- (Ryan checks his pocket) yep, my money is gone. And he took more than he should have.

 

VOICE: Psst! Down here!

 

(Ryan and Jason look down to see a hooker plastered in cheap make-up talking to them from a storm drain)

 

RYAN: Who are you?!

 

WOMAN: I’m Molly, and let me tell you something, that ain’t ecstasy.

 

RYAN: What is it?

 

MOLLY: It’s molly!

 

(Ryan and Jason look at one another)

 

RYAN AND JASON: OOOH!

 

(Ryan and Jason turn back to Molly)

 

JASON: What’s the difference, though?

 

MOLLY: Molly is basically ecstasy with no adulterants. There’s no green tea leaves or asbestos to speak of in there.

 

RYAN: Are those things usually in ecstasy-

 

MOLLY: Well, have fun, you two! (Molly holds up eighty dollars) Thanks for the cash.

 

RYAN: Oh my God, you-?!

 

(Molly runs away, down the storm drain, as Ryan tries to lunge for the storm drain, Jason holds him back)

 

JASON: Easy, buddy. She’s gone.

 

RYAN: STUPID, MAGICAL, MOLLY-DEALING STORM DRAIN WHORE!

 

(Cut to Ethan, Jamie, Leonard and Lynn sitting in Leonard and Lynn’s living room)

 

JAMIE: And so that’s what Airsoft is.

 

ETHAN: Yeah, so anyway-

 

LYNN: No, wait, I want to understand this-

 

ETHAN: Oh God.

 

LYNN: So they’re like rubber bullets? Wouldn’t that still really hurt?

 

JAMIE: No, the bullets are plastic, they may hurt, but only if you’re a total pussy.

 

ETHAN: Wow.

 

LEONARD: Well I’m not a total pussy! I want to play this game!

 

ETHAN: Dad, don’t get worked up about anything, ever, it’s bad for your heart!
 

(Leonard stands up)

 

LEONARD: Screw that, I- (Leonard clutches his back) oh, it hurts! (Leonard sits down) Uncle Lenny’s going to take it easy for a few minutes before I get back in the game.

 

JAMIE: Okay. Maybe for your birthday I’ll make you a custom Airsoft vest, sir.

 

(Jamie smiles and Leonard chuckles)

 

LYNN: How kind of you to offer. (Ethan puts his hand on Jamie’s leg and smiles) Ethan! That’s a bit forward.

 

ETHAN: We’re already dating, mom.

 

LYNN: What about Kimberly?

 

ETHAN: What about here? We’re divorced.

 

LYNN: You never reconciled?

 

ETHAN: Nope, mom. It’s for the best, and I prefer that you and I don’t talk about her.

 

LYNN: Can I talk to Jamie about her then?

 

ETHAN: Especially not Jamie!
 

JAMIE: She’s my boss, I could talk about Kimberly all day.

 

LYNN: Kimberly’s her boss?
 

ETHAN: Uh, yeah.

 

LEONARD: That is classy.

 

ETHAN: It just happened, dad. I didn’t even know- (Ethan looks at Jamie and laughs nervously as he speaks) Jamie worked for Kimberly…

 

LEONARD: I see.

 

JAMIE: Yeah, so, tell me about raising Ethan here.

 

LEONARD: Ethan was a quiet baby.

 

LYNN: No, Ethan was a fussy baby, it’s just that you always got home from work after Ethan and I were already asleep.

 

LEONARD: Yeah, you were a quiet wife, too.

 

(Lynn sighs)

 

LYNN: Jamie, would you be a quiet wife?
 

JAMIE: No, I would not be.

 

LYNN: Well, alright. You have our blessings!

 

JAMIE: Pardon?

 

LEONARD: You may marry my son.

 

JAMIE: Whoa.

 

ETHAN: Mom, dad, Jamie was not here to get your permission to propose to me, things don’t work like that anymore-hell, things didn’t work like that even in your time.

 

LEONARD: I thought the big change was that women asked for the man’s blessing.

 

ETHAN: We’re not getting married, guys! We’ve been dating for not even three months!
 

LYNN: You married Kimberly only a few months after you met her.

 

JAMIE: You did?

 

ETHAN: That was because I got her-okay, let’s not get into it. Guys, this is NOT HELPFUL!

 

LYNN: I’m sorry I’m pressuring you, but you’re nearing fifty years old, you can’t stay single in your fifties, you’ll spoil.

 

ETHAN: I’m NOT single!
 

LYNN: Unmarried is single in my book.

 

JAMIE: You have a book?

 

LYNN: Yes. It’s called The Holy Bible.

 

JAMIE: Oh-

 

LYNN: -Of Cooking by Lynn Donahue.

 

(Lynn holds up a cook book entitled the “The Holy Bible Of Cooking by Lynn Donahue. On the cover she is in a kitchen holding up the same book with the same picture on it, in an infinite regression)

 

JAMIE: Oh wow, that’s impressive-you got that published?

 

LYNN: Yes.

 

ETHAN: Good, mom, see? This is a pleasant topic. My mom’s always been a great cook.

 

LEONARD: And you’ve always been a great COCK! (Ethan looks at Leonard) Now I demand you get married within a year! I want grandchildren!

 

ETHAN: You HAVE grandchildren! I’m your only child that gave you grandchildren!

 

LEONARD: I want more! And I want better ones!
 

LYNN: Leonard!
 

LEONARD: I just want variety, is all.

 

ETHAN: OKAY! Parent meeting over! Let’s go.

 

(Ethan stands up, and so does Jamie)

 

JAMIE: It was nice to meet you guys.

 

(Lynn and Leonard stand up)

 

LYNN: It was great to meet you too!

 

(Lynn hugs Jamie as Ethan stands there, dumbfounded. Jamie then hugs Leonard)

 

LEONARD: I want that Airsoft vest, okay?

 

JAMIE: Okay.

 

(Jamie detaches from Leonard)

 

ETHAN: Bye, mom and dad.

 

LEONARD: Bye bye.

 

ETHAN: Love you guys.

 

LYNN: Ditto.

 

ETHAN: Yeah.

 

(Ethan and Jamie leave the house. Cut to Jacob dressed as a Bell Hop, watching TV in the lobby of the hotel. Patrick White and Fiona Cadbury are reporting)

 

PATRICK WHITE: Yesterday’s tragic terrorist attack on the Charlie Hebdo satirical newspaper in Paris, France has left twelve people dead and two people at large.

 

FIONA: That’s right, you heard him, these two men are in their largest form.

 

PATRICK: What?

 

FIONA: They are Transmorphers able to shapeshift and grow bigger and bigger-

 

PATRICK: Transmorphers?

 

FIONA: And right now they are at LARGE-but they could go EXTRA LARGE. This isn’t even their final form-

 

PATRICK: No, they’re AT LARGE, meaning they are wanted by the police but cannot be found as of yet.

 

FIONA: Oh.

 

PATRICK: Yeah, they’re not super-mutant “transmorphers”, they’re two fucking morons with no ideas, just bullets. And they took twelve lives with those bullets. The only language they speak is “bang bang” and they took down twelve creative minds who spoke the language of love, life, truth and satire. And they expect that to slow down satire or the art of comedy, but no, it will not. Those twelve men and women may be dead, but laughter lives on. And by the way, assholes, the Prophet Muhammad you wanted to get revenge for doesn’t advocate murder. Want proof? When we come back, I will be sitting down with the Prophet Muhammad in an exclusive interview. And we will NOT blur His face.

 

FIONA: Actually, Patrick, he cancelled to go on Ellen.

 

PATRICK: Seriously? I thought he hated dancing!
 

FIONA: But who can resist Ellen’s dancing?

 

PATRICK: I guess you’re right.

 

(Cut back to Jacob watching that TV)

 

JACOB: So terrible.

 

(A doorman walks over to Jacob)

 

DOORMAN: Hey!
 

(Jacob turns around)

 

JACOB: Oh, hi. Sorry.

 

DOORMAN: Pay close attention.

 

JACOB: Will you take my brain to another dimension?

 

DOORMAN: NO! It’s just that you gotta be on those toes like it’s cell inspection time just in case some woman in a fur coat comes in with a comically large amount of bags you have to painstakingly lug to her room.

 

JACOB: Cell inspection time?

 

DOORMAN: Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

 

JACOB: I don’t know what you’re talking about- you can’t look through my cell phone. That’s not a requirement here, is it?

 

DOORMAN: Why? Do you have a burner?
 

JACOB: What?!

 

DOORMAN: Listen, I’m going to keep a close eye on you, you better not steal anything.

 

JACOB: Steal anything-why would you think-oh, because I was in prison, is that why?

 

DOORMAN: Of course, you dumb bastard, what do you think?

 

JACOB: I was in prison for six weeks! For impersonating a police officer! I’m not a hardened criminal!

 

DOORMAN: America’s prisons turn soft, chewy faggots like you into hardened, tough faggots like you. You got that?!

 

JACOB: How did you even know I’m an ex-con?

 

DOORMAN: Word gets around. Also, you seem really jumpy.

 

JACOB: That should be evidence that I’m not hardened, I was scared to death half the time I was in prison! I was a good kid, I just happened to be in a literally mad city where crazy shit happens all the time and no one seems to care.

 

DOORMAN: Just watch yourself, white boy.

 

(The Doorman walks away)

 

JACOB: He’s white-what is going on?

 

(A woman comes in with a comically large amount of luggage)
 

WOMAN: Help me! I need help with my comically large amount of luggage!

 

(Jacob walks over)

 

JACOB: I’ll take care of that ma’am-

 

WOMAN: I hope you have strong arms boy, I have more things coming. And I’m going to need someone to lift me.

 

JACOB: Let me grab a bell cart. (Jacob goes over and grabs a bell cart and rides it over with his arms outstretched, musical theatre style, until he gets there and hops off the cart to see a black bellhop putting the woman’s luggage on his bell cart) Whoa, what’s going on here-?

 

WOMAN: This young man is doing it instead-he tells me not to trust you.

 

JACOB: He’s full of it! Let me tell you-

 

WOMAN: Listen, as much as I want to witness a dispute between bell hops-unless you guys are fighting to the death and I’m betting on it, I’m not interested. Let’s go!

 

(The black bell hop tips his cap to Jacob and scoots the cart along as the woman follows. Jacob just stands there, angry)

 

JACOB: Son of a Bitch. Although I guess we now know the answer to the age-old question “would a rich white woman trust a black man over an ex-con white man?”

 

(Cut to Ryan and Jason in Ryan’s room, dancing to Flying Lotus’ “Dead Man’s Tetris”, clearly already having taken their ecstasy)

 

RYAN AND JASON: Hold up, hold up, I bet you thinking that we dead! (Ryan and Jason dance to the descending beat on the song) Hold up, hold up, I have this bullet in my head!

 

(Ryan and Jason dance to the descending beat and erratic drumming it synchs up with)

 

JASON: WAIT, THIS IS PRO ERA?!

 

RYAN: WHY ARE YOU YELLING? THE MUSIC’S NOT THAT LOUD!

 

JASON: I DON’T KNOW, I’M ON ECSTASY, SO I FEEL LIKE I’M IN A CLUB WITH REALLY LOUD MUSIC!

 

RYAN: YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN’T YELL THAT YOU’RE ON ECSTASY!

 

(Brennan opens the door)

 

BRENNAN: What the fuck, guys?! Stop yelling!

 

(Ryan and Jason hold each other tight)

 

JASON: (Whispering) Sorry! Shhh! Everybody be quiet or daddy will get the belt!
 

RYAN: (Whispering) Shhh!! I hear his footsteps up the stairs. Bum, de bum, bum, de bum, ba-da-da-dum-be-bum-

 

JASON: (Whispering) Yeah, that’s him.

 

BRENNAN: Your abusive dad was accompanied by incidental music?

 

JASON: (Whispering) He had the son he wishes he had from across the street play it for him as he chased me around the house! (Jason puts his hands on his cheeks) That kid could play the flute, the oboe and the piano, and now I can play guitar and he doesn’t give a shit!

 

RYAN: I give a shit, Jason. (Ryan starts rubbing Jason’s hair) I give a shit.

 

BRENNAN: Oh my God, you guys are on X.

 

JASON: Molly, actually.

 

(Brennan quickly leaves the room as Jason and Ryan start feeling each other up)

 

RYAN: Molly makes me feel so close to you. Like I’ve known you for years.

 

JASON: It’s a beautiful thing, man.

 

RYAN: There’s so much pain in the world, from those terrorist attacks in Paris, to whatever crazy shit happened in the Middle East last month that we completely forgot about-but here we can just be two human beings in complete and utter-what’s the word?

 

JASON: What word?

 

RYAN: The word I’m trying to think of…

 

JASON: What is its definition?

 

RYAN: Rapturous delight. An overpowering feeling of joy.

 

JASON: Um…molly?

 

RYAN: MOLLY! We can sit here as two human beings in complete and utter molly.

 

JASON: Why is it that I’m not sweating? Isn’t it supposed to be “popped a molly, I’m sweatin’? Whew?”

 

RYAN: No, you’re probably overheating because you’re body has run out of sweat-here, take a few sips from this- (Ryan pulls a giant jug of water out of the corner) here, there’s no such thing as too much of a good thing.

 

JASON: Thanks!
 

(Jason chugs a few giant gulps from the jug and throws it to the side)

 

RYAN: Loud.

 

(Jason and Ryan start cuddling on the ground. Cut to Ethan and Jamie in the car, driving back from Leonard and Lynn’s house. NPR is on)

 

NPR: Breaking News we’ve been covering for the past few hours- three of the Charlie Hebdo attackers have been killed in Paris. Said Kouachi and Cherif Kouachi were killed after a nine-hour siege near Charles De Gualle Airport. However, Hayat Boumeddiene, an Islamic fem-terrorist who shot and killed a police officer is still at large.

 

(Ethan turns off the radio)

 

ETHAN: How did you just turn around and hug my parents after they were so rude and weird to us?

 

JAMIE: Ethan, I’m used to overbearing parents. I have them. My mom in particular sucks the life out of me. But you gotta show ‘em love anyway. Because they’re not going to be around forever. You have to deal with older parents the same way you deal with your own old age-in stride.

 

ETHAN: What are you-

 

JAMIE: So when you cum faster than 911 in white neighborhoods, think about your parents. I mean-I worded that wrong-

 

ETHAN: Yeah, especially since you quoted J Cole.

 

JAMIE: Shit, you know J Cole?!
 

ETHAN: You’ve been bumping that shit all day recently, yeah.

 

JAMIE: It’s dope. But anyway, think about how you deal with them. Having overbearing parents is something you can’t really do much about. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. And your parents are like, 546 in dog years. So, it’s too late for that. And aging is something you can’t do anything about either.

 

(Ethan sighs)

 

ETHAN: It is kinda of useless to be insecure about it, I guess.

 

JAMIE: Exactly.

 

ETHAN: …I suppose your generation does have something to teach us after all. Something besides “that feel when bae doesn’t text back”.

 

JAMIE: Shit like that makes me WANT to get older.

 

(Ethan laughs. Cut to Jason and Ryan waking up in Ryan’s closet, both half-naked and disheveled. Ryan has a guy with a balloon drawn on his chest)

 

JASON: (Groggy) What the fuck-where am I?

 

RYAN: Ugh, we’re in my closet.

 

JASON: Why is the light on?! Why are we half-naked?

 

RYAN: I don’t know-what time is it? (Ryan checks his phone and it’s 2:33 PM on Saturday, January 10, 2015) Jesus, it’s 2:30 PM.

 

JASON: How did we sleep that long sitting in an upright position in a fully-lit closet?!

 

RYAN: I don’t know-what the heck did we do last night?

 

JASON: I don’t remember…again.

 

RYAN: Fuck. That completely defeats the whole point!
 

JASON: We’re half naked right now, can we address that?

 

RYAN: In a second.

 

JASON: No! Why are we half-naked?

 

RYAN: I don’t know, let me- (Ryan checks the texts in his phone) oh, we got ecstasy last night.

 

JASON: Ecstasy?!

 

RYAN: Yeah, I was texting my drug dealer last night. We got ecstasy.

 

JASON: We should’ve gotten molly.

 

RYAN: I know. What a waste. Especially since you don’t remember again!

 

JASON: Yeah, your name is Michael, right?

 

RYAN: Ryan.

 

JASON: Yeah, yeah, okay. Cool.

 

RYAN: Fuck. Did we-?

 

JASON: Hopefully not. What is drawn on your chest?

 

(Ryan looks at his chest)

 

RYAN: Goddamnit! A balloon man?! (Ryan looks at Jason) Really, Jason!?

 

JASON: Obviously I was high as fuck, dude, don’t yell at me! Your yelling is too bright! And these fucking lights are too loud!
 

RYAN: Did that X give you synesthesia last night?

 

JASON: Sinus-what?

 

RYAN: Synesthesia, where your senses are confused and you hear colors and smell sounds and stuff?

 

JASON: Maybe. I do simultaneously taste and smell cum in here.

 

RYAN: I’m pretty sure you can do both of those things normally.

 

JASON: Ugghh…I also hear cum because I hear the sounds of police sirens in white neighborhoods.

 

RYAN: You’re fucking with that new J Cole, huh?

 

JASON: Hardcore.

 

RYAN: Whoa! (Ryan picks up a non-erasable permanent sharpie) Dude, you drew on my chest with a non-erasable, PERMANENT sharpie!

 

JASON: So?

 

RYAN: Now I can’t erase it!
 

JASON: That’s only the case for white boards dude, just take a shower and you’ll be fine, or put on a shirt!

 

RYAN: I have a regrettable tattoo now man, that completes the crazy night experience, no way am I washing it off.

 

JASON: Obviously you don’t regret it.

 

RYAN: I don’t regret anything about this night.

 

JASON: How could you? You don’t remember it.

 

RYAN: Yeah…well. Until we meet for the first time again.

 

(Ryan extends his hand and Jason looks at it. Cut to black)

 

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF AMMI IMAM, 1932-2015


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