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Mother.....Ana Gasteyer Daughter.....Kirsten Dunst [ open on Mother sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee as she reads the morning newspaper. Daughter, carrying knapsack, quickly runs past to exit house through back door. ] Mother: Hold it right there. Where do you think you're going? Daughter: Oh. I'm just going to hang out with some friends at the mall. Mother: And what will you and these friends be doing today? Daughter: Nothing much. Just hanging out.. and stuff. Mother: What sort of stuff? You're not going out to have sex with strange men, are you? Daughter: No, Mom! Of course not! Mother: Well, you're not going out to smoke weed or crack cocaine, I assume? Daughter: No, Mom! Mother: And I suppose it's safe to assume that you're not planning to go out to the airport and scare people with box cutters, right? Daughter: No! [ quickly ] We're just going out to get tattoos! Mother: [ alarmed ] Tattoos?! Oh, Dear God! [ puts hand to chest, prepared for a heart attack ] Daughter: [ semi-bemused ] Out of all those crazy suggestions you just made, tattoos are what upset you the most? Mother: Sit down. Daughter: Mom, come on.. Mother: I said sit down! [ Daughter sits ] Mother: I don't want my baby having permanent markings all over her body. Daughter: But, Mom, that's the point. Mother: Whose idea was this? Whose mother should I call? Daughter: It was a group decision, alright? We all decided we should get little parrots on our ankles. You know, because birds of a feather stick together! [ smiles ] Mother: [ somewhat gruff ] Did I raise you to be stupid? Daughter: No. Mother: Parrot tattoos? And what is the purpose behind that, if I may be so bold as to ask. Daughter: Mom, we just want to express ourselves artistically. Mother: You want to express yourselves artistically? But you're all planning to get the same tattoo! Where's the artistic expression in that? Artistic expression means you get the parrot, and the others get a pelican, a canary and an eagle.. or some combination, therein. Daughter: Mom, let's not argue about this.. Mother: Artistic expression - that's rich. I don't see what's so expressive about pointing to a print on a wall and saying, "I want that one." The only person expressing themself artistically is the bum in the tattoo parlor who's holding the infected needle. Daughter: Mom, it's not like that at all.. Mother: You want to express yourself artistically, why don't you go write a haiku, or paint a still-life of some ferns. That would be pretty artistic of you, if you don't mind putting in the effort. Daughter: Mom, there's no tattoo parlor! We do it ourselves. Mother: I beg your pardon? Daughter: Let me show you. [ opens backpack and removes small kit ] We sent away for these kits we saw advertised on late-night TV. It's a do-it-yourself tattoo kit. They got the ink, the needles, band-aids, everything. You pick the design you like, and you carve it in all by yourself. Mother: [ surprised ] Well, honey.. I've always been impressed by your artwork. You used to hang your work on the refrigerator all the time when you were little. I guess if you're going to give yourself the tattoo, that wouldn't be so bad.. Daughter: Thanks, Mom! Mother: This is so exciting! Come on, let's see you imprint the parrot on your ankle! Daughter: Now? Mother: Yeah, come on, I want to see you express yourself artistically! Daughter: Um.. okay. sure.. [ Daughter opens tattoo kit, inserts batteries and ink cartridge into tattooing needle, then lifts her foot onto the kitchen table and proceeds to carve the parrot into her ankle. She grits her teeth ferociously, as smoke emits from the head of the needle. ] Mother: [ upon viewing finished product ] Ooh, that's pretty. I hope your friends do as good a job as you did. Daughter: [ in pain ] Yeah.. me, too.. Mother: [ checks watch ] Well, it's time for my morning jog. Feel like joining me? We can jog in the direction of the mall. Daughter: [ still in pain ] Sure.. I'll jog with you.. for a little bit.. [ Daughter rises from chair to stand on her feet, but twists her ankle and falls to the ground ] Mother: Ooh, you know what? That's gonna smart for the first few days. You'd better rub some vaseline on it before it starts hurting like a mofo. The vaseline's in the upstairs bathroom, why don't you crawl on up there and get it as soon as you're feeling well enough to walk. Daughter: Bu-u-ut.. Mo-o-ommm.. Mother: Sorry, honey, but I've really gotta get started on my morning jog. If I see your friends, I'll tell them to come on over. [ rolls eyes ] Geez.. next time, why don't you get that thing done by a professional. [ Mom exits kitchen ] [ zoom out to fade ] Rate or review this sketch. |
