MOM: (giving up again) Nothing to be done.
ME: (advancing with Christmas gifts) Merry Christmas, Mom! Are you all right?
MOM: The toilet backed up again. I guess I put too many baby wipes in there.
ME: Put too many babies...?
MOM: I was in there mopping up all the water. And then the bird seed got wet, along with Mewy's poop.
ME: (dropping sack of Cuties) I brought you oranges, and... What's that smell?
MOM: I'm so tired. I'm just so tired.
ME: You must go on, Mom. Merry Christmas...?
MOM: Did you remember to bring the crab cakes?
ME: No, I forgot them. Shoot.
MOM: And these are Cuties! I hate Cuties! I wanted the Halos. Didn't they have any at the store?
ME: A urine smell, I think.
MOM: (groaning) I feel like I slept in a ditch.
ME: How's your knee?
MOM: I can't believe you didn't remember the crap cakes.
ME: The what cakes...?
MOM: I least we have a roast.
ME: Mom, there's smoke!
MOM: That mop is useless for all that toilet stuff, I tell you.
ME (running into kitchen, slips in toilet water that has leaked into kitchen) Arrgh!
MOM: (disinterested) Careful.
ME (getting oven door open as smoke belches out): The meat is done!
MOM: I'm not hungry. Can you buy me a new mop?
ME: Oh. It's really dark in here. Can't you fix that lamp?
MOM: That was your grandmother's lamp. It's sixty years old, at least.
ME: But does it work? I can barely see and... (coughs)... the smoke!
MOM: Don't be a baby.
ME: I can't go on like this.
MOM: We must wait for your brother to call. He was supposed to call an hour ago. He said he'd get me a new mop ages ago.
ME: I can't breathe. Will that window open?
MOM: I wish my clothes weren't so wet now... that stupid toilet...
ME: I smell pee. Where's that pee smell coming from?
MOM: I think the roast is done. Can you check on it?
ME: It was on fire. I poured diet Shasta on it.
MOM: It's ready, then.
ME: I'm not eating it.
MOM: Why hasn't your brother called?
ME: I'm leaving.
MOM: I can't go on.
ME: I'm leaving.
MOM: I want a new mop. I good one, for toilets.
ME: The smoke... the pee...
MOM: That was your grandmother's lamp.
ME: Why don't we hang ourselves?
MOM: Your brother is going to call.
ME: And what then?
MOM: Everything will be fine.
ME: I'm leaving.
MOM: I hate these Cuties. They aren't real oranges.
ME: Do you want me to show you how to play chess?
MOM: Yes, that will help, I suppose.
ME: Good. Your move.
MOM: There's no board.
ME: True.
MOM: What piece is this?
ME: That's a Cutie.
MOM: Darn thing.
ME: The rook has a turret of a castle. That's how you remember.
MOM: A turd of a castle?
ME: Yes. Like Prince Charles.
MOM: Have another Cutie. Too bad about the roast.
ME: I'm not Kobayashi.
MOM: Nothing to be done.
ME: I'm leaving.
MOM: Nothing...
ME: Where's a rope, at least.
MOM: There's my phone!
ME: It's ringing!
MOM: Where's the lamp? I can't see...!
ME: Is that the dog?
MOM: You stepped on a Cutie.
ME: It stopped.
MOM: Are you leaving?
ME: Yes.
MOM: Okay.
ME: I'm leaving.
MOM: Okay.
Neither move.
Curtain
Maria????
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