Son of a Business Woman

Gone Mother Trucker

by Zoe Tamaki

Characters:

DICK: 11-year old boy

MRS.BUNT: woman in her thirties. Uptight. Polished.

MR.BUNT: Nerdy, tall, skinny man.

CHUCK: Dick’s father.

Scene: At a fundraising dinner hosted by DICK’s father. Fancy food, people mingling in the background. Jazzband music can be heard faintly. A classy affair.

MRS.BUNT: Hey honey! Aren’t you Richard and Velma’s son? What’s your name?

DICK: Yep. It’s Richard Jr., but my friends call me Dick!

MRS.BUNT(confused, puts hand to ear): Pardon?

DICK: I’m Dick.

MRS.BUNT: Oh….that’s an unusual name. Haven’t heard that one in a while. Well this is such a nice place. What a nice fundraiser this will be.

(MR.BUNT comes over to the two, smiling. He puts his hand onto DICK’s shoulder.)

MR.BUNT: How are you, son? Long time no see!

DICK: Oh, Mr.B! Yeah! How have you been?...Where have you been?

MR.BUNT: I’ve been good. Just got back from-

MRS.BUNT(overlapping):Vacation in Los Angeles.

MR.BUNT: Couples therapy prison for the last week.

(MRS.BUNT gives MR.BUNT a death stare. He rolls his eyes and grabs a roll from the tray of appetizers, begins chewing)

DICK: Huh. I don’t really get it…where did you go?

(MR.BUNT looks at MRS.BUNT waiting for an answer.)

MRS.BUNT: Just on a vacation (tries to hold MR.BUNT’s hand who avoids it and reaches for another roll.) Where are your parents anyway?

DICK(nonchalantly, eating a biscuit): Well, you know my mom. She’s the adventurous type so she’s taken to truckin’. Got a job truckin’ blimps and some clothes up to Oregon.

That mother trucker, I gotta say. Truckin’ with her friend for a super long, long, long trip.

MRS.BUNT: What?

DICK: She’s a mother trucker. A mother-

MRS.BUNT (appalled): DICK!!!!

(Everyone in the room turns around and stares at her)

MR.BUNT(smirking): Honey!

DICK: What? I was just going to say she’s truckin’ up to Oregon! I think she should be home tonight though. She said she would try to make it back.

MRS.BUNT (blushing): Oh…haha dear.

DICK: What? (grins)What did you think I said?

MRS.BUNT: Uh, nevermind. How long is she gone for?

Dick: Two weeks.

MRS.BUNT: Oh, that’s not that long.

Dick: It’s a second in your life but an eternity in mine. She is the wind beneath my wings.

(Mrs.Bunt gives her husband a look of disapproval.)

MRS.BUNT: So…How do you know my husband?

DICK: Oh, Mr.B? Well my dad is friends with him. And he’s pretty much a bamf!

MRS.BUNT: A what?

DICK: A BAMF!

MRS.BUNT: What is a BAMF? Oh, is that like a male version of what is it called…a Milf? MEELF?

DICK: A what? What’s a milf?

MRS.BUNT: Ohh…uh…nevermind.

(Looks to MR.BUNT for a change in subject. He looks the other way.)

DICK: I’ll google it when I get home. Just like you said, Mr.B, when in doubt google it out!

MR.BUNT: So you’re a big kid now, eh? Dinner parties and everything? And you’re only 11?

DICK(grabbing an appetizer) : Yeah, I had a babysitter. But kids these day, Mr.B, they don’t know how to have fun.

MRS.BUNT: What do you mean?

DICK: I just wanted to go climbing and she wouldn’t let me.

MRS.BUNT: Oh, you rock climb?

DICK: No. I climb buildings.

MRS.BUNT: You do what? I don’t understand.

DICK: Yeah, I started doing it with Mr.B. He’s the one who helped me graduate to buildings.

(MR.BUNT’s eyes get wide, eyebrows raise.)

MRS.BUNT: What?

DICK: Yeah, he loves danger like a fat kid loves cake! He used to jump off of roofs. It was awesome. He always made sure we were safe though.

(MRS.BUNT glares at MR.BUNT)

MRS.BUNT: You did WHAT?!

MR.BUNT: Honey, they were low roofs like practically five feet.

DICK: Like maybe to get onto the roof was five feet off the ground! Remember that one roof that was like 15 feet off the ground! That was EPIC!

MRS.BUNT: What?!!?!

DICK: Yeah, he always does crazy stuff like that.

MRS.BUNT: You do?!

MR.BUNT: No….You know me sweetheart.

DICK: Really Mr.B? You know once he ate a jalapeño WITH hot sauce on it.

Mr. Bunt: Oh, that was a while ago. In my youth.

DICK: No it wasn’t. It was like last year.

MR.BUNT (eyes wide again): Oh, Dick. (Chuckles, obviously annoyed)

MRS.BUNT: Really? You ate a jalapeño? Why? I thought you said you were allergic. Or at least that’s what you said when I made my jalapeño ham.

MR.BUNT: Oh it’s a certain type of jalapeño…the Mexican kind. That’s the one you used, I used a south American one. Are you implying that I didn’t want any ham? C’mon now, you know that my mouth was watering it looked delici-Hey CHUCK!

DICK: Hey Dad.

CHUCK: Hey Rich! Christie, always a pleasure!...Dick? Where’s your sitter?

DICK: Dad, she was lame.

CHUCK(puts hand on MR.BUNT’s shoulder): Lame? Huh. I’m so out of it. Not as hip as this Mexican-jalapeño eatin’ man here.

(MRS.BUNT glares at Mr.Bun.)

MR.BUNT: Awh, Fuck.

DICK: His name’s CHUCK….