Jimmy the Antichrist

Fade up on the Bailey family dinning room. It is your perfectly typical middle class suburban dining room. There is a large table center stage, and a door to the kitchen directly behind it. The table is partially set in preparation for Thanksgiving dinner. Enter Joyce Bailey carrying a plate of food. She is your stereotypical middle class suburban mom.

Joyce: Denise, get down here! You’re supposed to be setting the table.

Denise: (offstage) I’ll be down in a minute!

Joyce: You said that fifteen minutes ago. Now get down here or you’re doing all the dishes by yourself.

Denise: (offstage) That’s fine.

Joyce: By hand. As in without the use of the dishwasher. Now hurry up, your brother will be here any minute.

Denise enters stage right, she wears a T-shirt that reads “Death to the Pixies.”

Denise: And we need to make this perfect because?

Joyce exits and re-enters almost immediately with a pile of plates and silverware.

Joyce: Denise don’t be difficult. Please, as a gift to me?

She hands the plates to her daughter and exits. Denise begins to set the table.

Denise: I just don’t understand what the big deal is? You act like Jimmy’s returning from the dead instead of from college.

Joyce re-enters arranging more food.

Joyce: Denise, this is the first time your brother’s been home since he left for school. Humor me huh?

Denise: I guess I just don’t see what the big deal is.

Joyce: Aren’t you curious to see how your brother’s changed? Don’t you want to see how he’s matured?

Denise: Mom, it’s Jimmy. I find it hard to believe that he’ll have changed that much in two years, let alone two months. Besides, you talk to him like nightly. You know what is going on with him.