THE LEDBETTERS
The living room of a small house on the outskirts of Chicago, somewhere near OHare Airport. Paneled walls. Drifts of coupons, empty cans of Old Style. A color console TV that doubles as a coffee table. Also on the coffee table is a block of shiny new knives. There is the sense that nothing ever gets thoroughly cleaned. Upstage of the living room a small kitchen visible through a cutout. Upstage left, a small staircase leads to the second floor. Downstage right, the front door and a window. The only light source other than the TV is the harsh kitchen overhead spilling into the living room.
LEDBETTER
fiftyish, heavy, unshaven, is beached on the sofa, watching QVC. There are three or four pharmaceutical containers on top of the coffee table. He is awake but appears to be in a state of hypnotic sloth. Perhaps his mouth hangs open. Perhaps he drools. The two men on the QVC are narrating sales pitches having to do with baseball cards. CLIFF wears a housecoat, slippers, a white T-shirt. His hair is ridiculous. He has been farting continuously and without shame. Periodically, jets can be heard flying over the house.
In the kitchen the phone rings several times.
CLIFF continues staring at the TV, catatonic .
WYNNE enters through the front door, holding a paper sack. He bolts across the living room for the phone. In a blur we see that he is sixteen, small and thin. He wears corduroy pants, skater sneakers, and a rock-n-roll T-shirt. His hair is dyed blue. CLIFF continues staring at the soothing miracles of QVC .
WYNNE (from off ) Hello? Hey Yeah Uh-huh Hang on.
WYNNE enters the living room, holding the phone, the cord stretching from the kitchen, still holding the paper sack .
WYNNE Pop Pop Pop ( covers the phone ) Hey, fuckhead! ( to phone ) He aint responding Yeah, hes up. I dont know Ill try it. (to CLIFF) Cliff Yo, Cliff Clifford Ledbetter
CLIFFORD LEMOYNE LEDBETTER! ( to phone ) Didnt work Yeah, hes been drinkin I dont know You want me to hit him? Like hit him hit him ? Where ? Ma, I aint gonna punch him in the balls No way, hell kill me, man Okay, okay, fine, Ill do it
WYNNE puts the phone down, takes a step toward his dad, sets the paper sack on the TV, hesitates a moment, and then punches CLIFF in the balls.
CLIFF Hey! You just punched me in the balls, man!
WYNNE Sorry, dude. Those were my instructions.
CLIFF From who?
WYNNE Ma.
CLIFF Thanks a lot, Linda!
WYNNE Shes on the phone.
CLIFF Wha?
WYNNE The phone. Shes on the phone.
CLIFF Whos on the phone?
WYNNE Ma. She wants to know if you want your potatoes baked or scalloped.
CLIFF Where the fucks the phone?
WYNNE Its over there. Baked or scalloped?
CLIFF Scalped.
WYNNE And she wants to know on a scale of one to ten how your back is feelin. One bein the worst, ten bein the best.
CLIFF Four-fifty for a Tiger Woods rookie card. Must be blue book value.
WYNNE Its two payments of four-fifty
CLIFF Two payments?
WYNNE Yeah, manits called the Flexplan. Thats nine hundred bucks.
CLIFF Well, I cant afford that.
WYNNE Nobody can afford that. The Flexplan is fuckin larceny.
WYNNE turns a lamp on .
CLIFF I went to school with a kid named Larceny. Larceny Dimitrovits. Drove a 64 Skylark. Hand-cleaned the engine every mornin in the parkin lot. Hood popped, shoulders hunched. Wiped her down with a warshcloth. Guy smelled like vinegar.
WYNNE Pop.
CLIFF I said scalped! Scalp the fuckers!
WYNNE crosses to the kitchen .
CLIFF Two payments of four-fifty. That aint fair. I should write a letter and report those guys.
CLIFF stands up very slowly, using every part of the sofa. He turns a full circle, disoriented .
WYNNE ( into phone ) He said he likes em scalped Yeah, scalped thats what he said No he wouldnt give me a number Hes trashed again I couldnt help it, Ma, he takes em when he takes em! I aint a fuckin nurse! All right, see ya in a few.
WYNNE re-enters.
WYNNE Pop, sit back down Sit down, Pop!
CLIFF starts to cry .
WYNNE Whats wrong ?
CLIFF I pooped again. Its goin all down my leg.
WYNNE Jesus Christ, man.
CLIFF I cant help it, it just starts comin out. Please dont tell Linda. If your ma finds out I pooped again she wont let me sleep in the bed with her.
WYNNE Stay there.
WYNNE exits to the kitchen, searches for CLIFF s diapers .
WYNNE What happened to your diapers?
CLIFF I ran out.
WYNNE You tell Ma?
CLIFF Yeah.
WYNNE No you didnt. You gotta tell her, man.
WYNNE re-enters with a wad of paper towels, hands them to CLIFF.
CLIFF Whore you, anyway?
WYNNE Who am I ?
CLIFF I aint never seen you before.