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Next to a blinking Christmas tree, two brothers try to cope
with their demented elderly father. 10-minute drama.
Order a script
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EXCERPT:
[Christmas Eve, 4 a.m. KEVIN comes downstairs to find the elderly MILT in his wheelchair, naked except for an adult diaper, while his brother JOSH watches an action movie on TV.]
Holy shit, where did his clothes go?
He got hot. Took 'em off.
Goddamn it, Josh! (to MILT, gently) Aren't you cold, Pop? Do you want your blanket?
Let me get up.
He's just gonna throw it off.
You don't need to get up, Pop. Why don't you stay where you are. (arranges blanket on MILT's lap) There. There you go.
Hey, hey, let's go, Ben. Let's go. (throws blanket off, struggles to stand up)
Told ya.
Where's your shirt, Pop? Let's get your shirt on.
(Through the following, MILT and KEVIN struggle over the shirt.)
No! No no no no! Get the hell out of here! Hey you prick! No no no no --
For Chrissake, leave it, Kev.
Fucking bastard --
Ow!
The aide'll put clean clothes on him when she gets here.
(KEVIN stops struggling with MILT. A beat.)
Where can I sit?
Right there, Pop.
Okay.
(MILT sits. A beat as JOSH and KEVIN look at MILT.)
Any beer?
Beer? Forget it, pal -- it's time for the harrrd liquor.
(A beat as KEVIN pours a hit.)
He kind of looks like Gandhi. Sitting there in his diaper.
Yeah. If Gandhi was a fucking crazy old white dude.
(After a beat, KEVIN and JOSH both laugh, a little too hard and too long.)
How about that filly. (struggles to stand) Look at her. Let's get her into the barn, boys. (sits down)
What's he talking about?
He's with the mysterious Ben again. They're in Louisville buying race horses, I think.
No shit.
You shoulda been here an hour ago. He was feeling my shoe -- he thought it was a hoof.
Jesus Christ.
Hey, it's better than the night he thought we were fishing.
He almost broke the TV trying to climb outta the boat.