BOOYA

Location:

Typical home office setting. Papers are stacked in neat piles on the table. A beautiful, white orchid dominates the windowsill. On the floor is a hamper with neatly folded clothes.

Cast & background:

Cinda: Beige, overweight Surburbian soccermom with parttime office job and pearl earrings. Likes to garden, cook and take long walks on the beach.

Hubby: Incredibly dry economist with feminine hands and a weakness for classical music. Prone to hairy ears and spending way too much time on the toilet in the company of the Financial Times.

Enter Cinda, approaching Hubby, who is sitting at his computer.

C: Yo, ese, you think you could look at my tax-deductions?

H: What up, bitch?

C: Well, I don’t know which numbers they need.

H, looks at the screen: What does the form say?

C: I guess the miles are deductible?

H: “You may know a lot about chemistry man but you don’t know jack about slingin’ dope…”

C: It’s not like you had other plans is it? I mean: “Sitting around, smoking marijuana, eating Cheetos and masturbating do not constitute ‘plans.’”

H, laughing: “It’s like: BOOYA!”

Hubby pounds on the keys. After a while he looks up and smiles.

H: Ta-daaah!

C: So you just add up the miles and for each mile I can deduct this amount? Dude – you’ve got mad skills!

H: We be makin’ mad cheddar!

C: Right ouhn!

Silence.

H: Honey, do you think we have perhaps been watching too much “Breaking Bad”?

C: Ehhh. Yeah.

End of scene.