The Slow-Cooked Sentence

ACT TWO:

TEN MINUTES OF TABLE CONVERSATION

FADE IN:

INT — DINING ROOM — EVENING

A family sits at the dinner table. The dad is at one end of the table. On either side of him are twin sons, SAM and MAX. The mom sits at the other end of the table, and on her left is older daughter, CHAJA. A younger son, IVAN, is playing off-stage. The meal is almost over.

MOM
(over sounds of IVAN playing off stage)

Now Max, why do you need to build a volcano for your science fair project?

MAX
(bending his head and mumbling into his plate)

To show how baking soda and vinegar will explode.

DAD

What? Speak up, Max. What does a volcano have to do with baking soda and vinegar?

MAX
(still speaking into his plate, but louder)

It looks cool, and last year a kid did it and he won an award.

MOM
(sending a look of help-me-out-here to DAD)

Couldn’t you use a cup and not mess around with the volcano?

MAX
(finally looking at his parents)

But it wouldn’t look cool.

DAD
(grinning at MOM)

So why a volcano and not a nose? Stuff could spew out of the nostrils.

(Laughter from ALL)

CHAJA
(from over her shoulder as she heads into the kitchen)

Yeah! You’d get a ton of votes.

SAM

Or you could build a penis.

(Hoots, followed by more laughter and red faces)

IVAN
(Off-stage, singing)

Penis! Penis! Penis!

DAD

Whoa! Now that would get you some attention, probably get you kicked out of the science fair and maybe even make it into the paper.

MAX
(grinning)

Yeah, I could build this giant penis and have —

MOM

O-kaaaay. No more! No more! The volcano’s fine. You can do the volcano, and I can see you boys have been paying attention in sex ed.

FADE TO BLACK.

My Life as a Screenplay, Act One: Five Minutes of Afternoon