1a) In which we operate as if in a sci-fi movie from the 90s

 

(Nighttime.  Dark.  Kitchen table.  Body of full-grown man.  DAD, with great difficulty, trying to saw the body in half.)

​

DAD

Ahhh…shit…

(SY comes in, bleary-eyed.)

 

SY

Dad?

(DAD spins around.)

​

DAD
Shit.

 

SY

Dad, is that you?

 

DAD

Who else could it fuckin be?  Fuck!

(DAD goes back to the task at hand.)

 

SY

Alright.  You—

 

DAD

Why are you up?

 

SY

I heard you banging around.

And swearing.

 

DAD

Go to bed.

 

SY

It’s four in the morning, Dad.

…

(SY tries to take a peek at what’s going on.)

…What are you doing?

 

DAD

None of your / business—

 

SY

No.  No: what are you—

(SY shoves past DAD.)

Is that…?  Is that our gardener?

 

DAD

(“Who are you referring to?”)

Who?

 

SY

THE PERSON YOU’RE SAWING IN HALF?

 IS THAT MR. MCGREGOR, OUR GARDENER?

 

DAD

Oh.

Yes.  It is.

 

SY
…Oh, Dad…

 

DAD

Turned out he was working for The Influencers. 

 

SY

I mean: duh.

 

DAD

If we didn’t nab him, someone else would have.

It’s all-out war now.

 

SY

That’s not the point, Dad— 

 

DAD

No, listen.  Listen:

I found him sneaking out of the shed a few hours ago and he had his arms full…FULL of my zucchini.  My zucchini.

 

SY

Is this what this is going to be like now?

Me waking up to you sawing some guy in half in the middle of the night?

 

DAD
I’m doing what’s right.

 

SY
I’m not arguing that! 

But Bean’s just in the other room, Dad…

 

DAD

Oh, she’s fine.

People like her are…deep sleepers.

 

SY
People like her?

 

DAD
Yeah.  You know. 

Working-stock.

(Back to sawing.)

​

SY

I came home to be with you and Mom because I thought that it would be nice if the family were all together during this.  But this…isn’t nice.

 

DAD
Oh…put a sock in it.

(SY grabs at the saw.  They struggle.)

 

SY

You know what: you don’t have to be doing this now.

 

DAD
What the hell are you doing?

 

SY

You don’t.  Have to be.  Doing.  This.  Now.

(SY’S successful.)

​

DAD

Fine.  You want me chopping him up over breakfast, fine.

Hope you don’t mind little bits of bone in your fucking coffee. 

 

SY

Don’t get snippy with me—

I’m just telling you to wait til morning!

 

DAD
IT IS MORNING. 

IT’S FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING, SY.

(DAD snatches the saw away.  SY’S stunned.  He groans and then he shoulders DAD out of the way, taking back the saw.)

 

SY

Just move.

 

DAD

(Peering over)

I’m having difficulty cutting through the spine.

 

SY

Yeah, I see that. 

 

DAD

They don’t just let you put the whole bodies out, you know.

 

SY
They actually do, Dad.

 

DAD
No.

 

SY

Yes.  They changed it last week. 

You just have to upgrade your disposal plan.

 

DAD
…Exactly! 

 

SY

…

(SY begins sawing.)

 

DAD
Careful.  Careful.  SY, CAREFUL!

 

SY

BACK OFF DAD.

​

DAD

YOU’RE GONNA CUT RIGHT THROUGH THE / PELVIS.

 

SY
DAD BACK OFF!!!

(MOM comes in.)

​

MOM

What the hell is going on? 

(Same sort of jump gag as the top.)

 

DAD
Great.  You woke up your mother.

 

SY

Hi, Mom.

 

MOM
What is going on?

Is that…?

Is that Mr. McGregor?

 

SY

Uhh.  Yeah.

 

MOM

Jesus. 

Peter!!

 

DAD
He was with The Influencers!!

 

MOM
Don’t you think I knew that!

I have a basement full of fucking freesia bulbs. 

Who’s gonna plant them now?

 

DAD
I will.

 

MOM

(Scoff)

That’s the lie that made me hire him in the first place.

(Going over to the body.)

Oh my god…  What are you doing?

 

SY
Dad botched the cut.

 

MOM
Well, you know you can’t just throw them away whole.

 

SY
Yes.  You can.  You just have to upgrade your disposal plan.

 

MOM
Why on earth would we do that?

 

SY

I don’t know: so we all don’t have to be up at four in the morning cutting through a dead man’s pelvis.

 

DAD
NOT cutting through a dead man’s pelvis.

 

MOM
Oh, Sy. 

You make everything seem like such a chore.

I’ve done at least two in the past month.

 

SY
What?  When?

 

MOM
Before you and Bean got here.

(MOM shoves in.)

Ohhh!!  Just move.

 

SY

Mom.  I’ve / got it—

 

DAD

Shana, let him—

 

MOM
OH MOVE, YOU ASSHOLES.

(They step aside.  She snatches the saw from SY.)

You’re turning my kitchen in a frickin’ war zone.

(She tries to cut.)

Mother.  Fucker.

 

DAD
Not so easy, is it, Shana?

 

MOM
Shut up, Pete.

 

SY
Mom: you’re going / to—

 

DAD
Don’t cut through / the PELVIS.

 

MOM
I know what I’m DOING!!

 

SY
OH MY GOD MOM STOP!!!

(Fever pitch. BEAN walks in.)

 

BEAN

HELLO.

(Silence.)

 

MOM

…Oh…  Bean, honey. 

Did we…  I’m so sorry: did we wake / you?

 

SY
Sweetie: go back to bed, I just am handling… 

Our gardener, Mr. McGregor.  Turned out he was with The Influencers. 

And…  Go back to bed.  I’ll be there in…   I’ll be there in a sec.

(BEAN walks up, takes the saw and with one swift motion, makes a perfectly clean cut.)

 

SY
Holy…shit…

 

DAD

…Well.  I’ll be damned.

What did I say: working stock.

 

BEAN
(To SY)
My Dad’s missing. 

(Smash into: 1b)