Basket Case

In this free comedic script, MA has bad news to tell her teenage daughter but things go down not exactly as one would anticipate.

Basket Case

MA comes storming in, mascara smeared across her face. She looks violently at her daughter, VICKY.

MA: Vicky, turn down that music. Now! I have to tell you something serious.

Vicky turns down the music.

VICKY: This better be good.

MA: It’s not good, wiseass. Been trying to figure out how to tell you this, you may want to sit first, I don’t know. You’re Uncle Frankie died. He got hit by a truck this morning. He’s toast.

VICKY: Are you kidding me right now?

MA: No, it happened this very morning…

VICKY: …Who’s Uncle Frankie?

MA: My brother.

VICKY: You have a brother? Since when?

MA: I must have told you about him at least twice, Vicky! For Godsake now’s not the time to bust my hump, okay?!

VICKY: Why is it always my fault? I didn’t even know I had an Uncle!

MA: Well, you did!

Ma pouts and gets quiet.

VICKY: Are you sad?

MA: Well…sort of…I don’t know…what’s sad nowadays, anyhow…we’re all sad about something. I guess this adds to my basket case, but who knows…look, I need you to find something black.

VICKY: What?

MA: Clothing! Find something black…to wear. We need to go to the wake.

VICKY: I’m not going. I don’t even know who the hell this guy is!

MA: How dare you curse like that when a family member just got hit by a mack truck? Shame on you!

VICKY: Ma, why is it always my fault?!

MA: You’re going to the funeral and you’re wearing something as black as you can find it. And no torn clothes, I don’t want to see you in anything with holes. No bag lady type stuff. I want to take pictures.

VICKY: Pictures? Mom, it’s a funeral.

MA: Yeah, well I want you to look nice. There’s some other relatives that will be there you never met.

VICKY: There’s more? I thought it was just you, me and Grandma for my entire life!

MA: Nope. Get ready.

VICKY: Can’t believe you’re making me do this.

MA: Believe it. When it’s your time, you’ll want people to stare at your dead face, too.

VICKY: I could care less. I’ll be dead.

MA: Too damn bad.

VICKY: Am I gonna meet any brothers and sisters I don’t know about?

MA: Hardy har har.  You’re a riot.  You have five minutes to get ready, I’m timing you.

VICKY: Yeah, yeah.

  • To read the full eScript, purchase link below:

In this short comedy script, MA and her daughter VICKY need to get dressed and ready for an unexpected funeral.

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