Dad

BRAD: It's an Algebra book...

(A long pause, as MOM and DAD absorb the reality of this horrible situation.) Are you... learning?

BRAD: I don't know.

(Grabbing BRAD's backpack:) Give me that.

BRAD: Yes.

(MOM begins weeping). And when were you planning on telling us?

MOM: But--what about all the graphic nudity?

(Pulls out two small plastic bottles of milk, shocked, smells)

MOM: That isn't true. It's not true. Harold?

(Quietly) You shouldn't have opened that box.

MOM: A few hours ago, I was looking for something in your room, and I-- Harold?

(Standing and pointing at something on the coffee table:) Son, what's this.

BRAD: Please don't make me say... You'll laugh...

(Stares back)

MOM: You swore to me..

I'm sorry.

BRAD: It's just... It's a different generation. I mean... everyone else is doing it. Like, the other day, when I was buying groceries for the family--

Don't remind me..

(BRAD shrugs his shoulders in guild.)

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to say. I'm besides myself here.

MOM: A boy scout?!?!? You mean to tell me you did community service? Voluntarily?!?!?

I was eight years old, Delores, I wasn't thinking. You remember what it was like back then--- it was the 70s.

MOM: I thought we agreed to forget about that. BRAD: Mom?

I'm sorry.

MOM: Who?

Who are they?

BRAD: I'm sorry, Dad. Mom. All right? I'm sorry. It's just so hard to live the life you want me to live.

Why, son, why is it so hard? You don't see your mother and I running off to the "library."

BRAD: I cancelled it.

You did what?!?! Wh-why?!?!

BRAD: I don't know.

You don't know? That is unacceptable. I paid good money for that.

BRAD:... I don't like breaking curfew like you insist I do. I don't like eating junk food and watching Austrian porn.

You don't... like those thingS?

BRAD: I went to school.

(MOM and DAD react.) School? Why would you even think of going there? Have we taught you nothing? What ever happened to going to the arcade and blowing your allowance on violent video games?

BRAD: Dad, please.

(Pulls out a Discman and then its CD:) What's this? Simon and Garfunkel?

MOM: Great. So what's going to happen now? Our son will think, "Well, my dad sold Boy Scout Cookies, so---

(Stands, at same time as mom finishes) We didn't sell cookies.

BRAD: Dad, listen--

Are you?

BRAD: Look, I appreciate all you've done for me. I do. But in the end, it's not your life. It's my life.

As long as you live under this roof, you will follow our rules.

MOM: It's a scary, scary thought.

Dating a wholesome young woman.

MOM: You're becoming one terrific role model for our son.

We all make mistakes, all right? These things happen!

BRAD: I can't help it.

Well you better start helping it real soon, Mister!

BRAD: No. MOM: Not even a little? BRAD: No.

What about your grandmother's Christmas weed?

BRAD: No! You listen to me for once! This isn't the first time I've had milk, all right? I've also experimented with--

What?

BRAD: You just don;t get it, do you? This is how I choose to live! Okay?!?! If I want to eat healthy, pass high school, and... abstain from sexual intercourse... then I will!

You watch your language son.

BRAD: They play guitar and sing-- (embarrassed:)-- wholesome and intelligent lyrics.

You've got to be kidding me....

BRAD: Please... This is hard enough as it is.

(Pulling out a magazine:) Now what on Earth...?

MOM: Not to everyone.

Oh yeah...? Miss Soup Kitchen?

MOM: I know.... (silence) We're the greatest parents that ever lived, aren't we?

Oh yeah. (Each pick up a bottle of milk and clink them together in toast fashion. Blackout.)

BRAD: A scientific journal.

A scientific journal... What happened to your subscription to Playboy?

MOM: Susan!??! That prude wears turtleneck sweaters! She leaves everything to the imagination!

Honey, please, it's over. He's gone.

BRAD: Flush it every year.

I don't know what to say. I just don't know what to say.

MOM: I don't believe this. BRAD: Well, believe it.

It was a rough time in my life.

MOM: You swore you'd never bring that up again.

It was... out of line.

MOM:---maybe i'll up and join the Peace Corps

It's not like--

BRAD: Dad.

Let's see what else you've been hiding from us.

BRAD: Yes! And you know why? It makes me feel good!

No son of mine drinks fat-free milk. No son of mine.

BRAD: Listen... It's not what you think..

Oh, it looks just like what I think. "Milk." (drinks a little, disgusted) (To MOM:) This is the latest craze Dr. Dubin was telling us about that's been all over the schools? Filled with "vitamins" and "minerals"...

MOM: I guess you're right.

Our son. Going to an ivy league college.

BRAD::: How about stepping back and remembering what it was like being a teenager? Huh? I mean, you're completely contradicting yourselves.

Son, now listen... I can understand how you would be confused. But your mother and I really must help you learn from our mistakes. When I found your mother in that soup kitchen, I knew it was my duty to save her from that... that... despicable place, and bring her back to the lifestyle where she and I both belong: producing, directing, and starring in adult films.

BRAD (suddenly blowing up:) Maybe that is what I want!! Okay? Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I like it.

Son...

BRAD: Oh God...

Son?

MOM: What?

That was private.

MOM: If Bobby Sanders was helping an old woman across the street, would you do it, too?

The bottom line, son, is that the way you're living is unacceptable. and we will not tolerate such behavior in this household! (Sits down, end of discussion)