A play by Robert Patrick

(LIGHTS up. Mom, Dad, Son, and Lawyer.)

DAD: I’ll never grant you a divorce, not in a million—

MOM: Grant me? Why, you useless lump, I could get a—

LAWYER: As lawyer to both of you, I can’t take sides in a—

DAD: You couldn’t get anything, you lousy two-timing—

SON: Mom—

MOM: You just want us to stay married so you can get my—

DAD: The humiliation you put me through would have—

SON: Dad—

LAWYER: I really shouldn’t even be—

MOM: You humiliated yourself, with me supporting our whole—

DAD: You couldn’t even have found work if I hadn’t put you through—

MOM: Put me through, put me through, hell is all you—

SON: Mom, Dad—

DAD: I could get a divorce in a minute with you cheating on me with that—

MOM: You can’t prove one single—

SON: Please, please—

DAD: After all the years I worked like a dog supporting—

MOM: And I scrimped and saved so we could have a decent—

SON: Why won’t you listen to—

DAD: How can you even use the word decent when you—

LAWYER: Please, both of you, this should be gone into—

SON: Neither of you cares anything about—

MOM: Be still, your father and I are—

DAD: If I even really am his—

SON: Stop! Stop it! You have to pay some attention to—

DAD: Be still, you little—

LAWYER: I think I should—

SON: Listen, listen, listen, you have to listen to—(SON brandishes a gun)

MOM: Oh my God, he’s got a—

LAWYER: Good lord—

SON: Now you have to–

DAD: Jesus, give me—

SON: No, no, you better pay attention to—

DAD: Shut up and give me— (SON and DAD struggle for gun)

MOM: Stop it, oh my God, where did he—

SON: I won’t, I won’t, now you have to—

DAD: Shut your mouth and let go of that—

(MOM joins in struggle. LAWYER backs away, terrified)

LAWYER: Stop it, or that thing is likely to—

MOM: Tell me where you—

DAD: Shut up, I’ll take care of—

SON: Him, I got it from him, in his bed, under his—

MOM: You gave our son a—

DAD: Shut up, I said for you to shut—

SON: Under his pillow, it was under—

MOM: You kept a gun in our home under your—

DAD: You’d have known it if you were in my bed instead of in—

LAWYER: I’m going to have to call the—(LAWYER takes out his cellphone)

(MOM, DAD, and Son move offstage struggling.)

MOM: What were you going to do with a—

DAD: I was going to shoot that son-of-a-bitch if you tried to take my—

MOM: I’ll see you in prison before this is—

DAD: It’s been a prison in here ever since we—

LAWYER: I’m going to call the—

DAD: Give that back to—

MOM: Let go of that or I’ll—

(There is a SHOT offstage. LAWYER runs to the door.)

LAWYER: My God. Don’t move any—Don’t touch any—(Dials his cellphone) Police! Police! 1817 West Rothmyer. There’s been a — There’s been an — There’s been a — an — a -an -a….

(LIGHTS out.)

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