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Mother.....Amy Poehler Stock Boy.....Snoop Dogg INT. Supermarket MOTHER (Poehler) is pushing a shopping cart, which contains a carriage for a baby. She approaches a STOCK BOY (Snoop), who is stocking soup cans. Mother: Excuse me, sir? Stock Boy: Yes, ma’am? Mother: Yes, uh, do you know which aisle the flour is on? I’m new here, so… Stock Boy: It’s a’ight. Flour’s on aisle twelve. You bakin’ a cake or somethin’? Mother: Sure am. Boy, you are sharp! Stock Boy: Nah, man…I just see a lotta mothers comin’ in here lookin’ to bake cakes for their family, that’s all. Mother: Oh, no. My daughter’s birthday isn’t until July. (all italics indicate the mother speaking in motherese to her baby.) Now honey, keep your hands in the cart...mommy needs you to be a good girl. Stock Boy: So, uh, your husband’s birthday comin’ up or somethin’? Mother: Actually, I’m a single mother…she’s my only child. (baby babbles) I know, honey. Keep your hands in the cart, dear. Stock Boy: Must be tough raisin’ a child without no daddy around. Mother: It is…but she’s my pride and joy, you know? (baby babbles) Darling, mommy doesn’t need chips. Mommy’s watching her carbs, and those aren’t Atkins-friendly. (baby babbles) So what if Dr. Atkins died because he deprived himself of key nutrients? Mommy’s back on the market again! Stock Boy: Lady, you gotta interesting relationship with your kid. Mother: Yeah, it gets real interesting at night when she’s crying for her bottle! [Both chuckle a second. The baby babbles, mom quickly reaches into the carriage.] Mom: Don’t touch that soda, dear…it causes stomach cancer. (baby babbles) Yes, I know how funny it would be for a kid to get stomach cancer…just not you, dear. Stock Boy: Uh, what was that? Mother: Oh, nothing. I’m sorry my little girl’s being a nuisance. I’ll let you get back to your work there. Stock Boy: Nah, don’t worry about it…it’s just, uh…(obviously attracted) so, how long you been around here? Mother: Just three months. I moved down from the city. This is the third grocery store I’ve been to here. I guess I’m trying to find the perfect one...one that has all the stuff I need. (mom reaches over into the cart again, speaking more forcefully) Honey, stay inside the cart! Mommy could be arrested if you fall on your head again. (baby babbles) I know you won’t call the cops this time, but…just settle down, dear! Stock Boy: Were you just talking to her? Mother: (indicating her child) Her? Stock Boy: Yeah, your baby. Mother: Oh, yeah, of course. I do it all the time. I read this book once that said the more you talk to your infant, the quicker their vocabulary develops. And that’s supposed to lead to…(mother looks over at the baby) Darling, we don’t use that gesture in public! (a beat) Anyway, it’s supposed to help them become more social. I don’t know… Stock Boy: But, I mean, the things you said. It’s just…it’s freaky stuff, you know? Mother: (looks over, interrupting) Pull your pants up now! You get your rocks off on your own time, little lady! (reaches over to baby) There! (a beat) What were you saying? [A beat as the stock boy is speechless.] Mother: Oh, yeah…the cake. Anyway, I’m making it for myself. You know, comfort food? I guess I’ve been real lonely here lately. I just need something, you know? Stock Boy: I think you need a psychiatrist. Mother: Boy, I wish I could land a doctor! (laughs) I swear, all the good ones are taken, aren’t they? Stock Boy: Yeah, that ain’t what I meant. Mother: So, uh, are you taken, cutie pie? [Baby babbles, mom jerks her head over toward her.] Mother: Listen, you crazy BITCH…I will not sit here and have my life threatened by some doped-up one-night stand! You will keep your hands in the buggy, or I will chop them off! (baby babbles) You did not break my ovaries…God did because I spawned you! He told me! (babbles) No, your womb smells! (babbles) No, yours does! Stock Boy: (interrupting the argument, grabs mom) Bitch!! Get a hold of yo’self! That’s yo’ baby you yellin’ at! Damn! Mother: (snapping out of it, calming down) Oh, uh…I’m, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me! I’m…I’m just really stressed, that’s all. Stock Boy: Yeah, uh… Mother: (interrupting) Could you please come over tonight? I’m so lonely! I’ll…I’ll do anything… Stock Boy: (suddenly aroused) Ahh, yeah! [The baby babbles. Mom jerks her head towards the cart.] Mother: He is NOT gay, you little dark-skinned ape! Stock Boy: (suddenly offended) That bitch called me gay? I’ll rip her lungs out!!! Mother: No!!! [The stock boy lunges toward the carriage. The mother tries to hold him back as the screen fades to black.] Rate or review this sketch | Prior comments |
