Dead Parents
Helped with this one.
The Unemployees
[Animisha and Maithri are driving down a narrow lane with houses on each side. Animisha is driving and Maithri is navigating. It’s daytime.]
Maithri: Keep towards the left.
Animisha: More than this?
M: Yeah, but not too-
[The sideview mirror scrapes the side of an auto rickshaw. The driver looks at them in anger and drives off.]
A: Where did he come from?!
M: Just stay in the centre lane.
A: And this guy on a bike is swaying.
M: Indicator.
A: We have to turn?!
M: [looks at Google Maps] Yeah, we have to go left.
A: Then why am I in the centre!
M: Because you narrowly avoided a fight with an auto driver.
A: It was his fault!
M: And it’s your car that’s scratched. I don’t even understand why we’re here.
A: I had to practise driving, and I had to show you this.
[She finds an empty spot and parks the car badly.]
M: Reverse and cut tighter into-
[Animisha has already gotten out of the car.]
A: Look.
[They’re at the park in a residential complex. All around are 30-storey buildings looming over.]
M: [exiting the car] What?
A: [taking out a cigarette from her purse and not looking up] At the seventh floor in the building to the left.
[A guy is awkwardly sticking half his torso out of a tiny window and lighting a cigarette. Maithri here’s the click of the lighter and turns around to see Animisha lighting her own cigarette.]
M: What is this?
A: Now the thirteenth floor on that building.
[Another guy in his mid 20s is smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke precariously away from the window.]
M: Is this some kind of-
A: And now, at the penthouse of the building to the right.
[A woman with bright pink hair is standing on an extremely tiny ledge and smoking a joint.]
M: Whoa.
A: We’re ‘The Unemployees’.
M: You know them?
A: Nope. But at 11am on weekdays, all the unemployed people sneak a smoke break outside the bathroom window, or the bedroom ledge. It is late enough to realise that it’s another day without work, and early enough to still think that a smoke might help.
[Maithri takes the cigarette from Animisha and takes a drag.]
M: [coughs] This isn’t tobacco!
A: You know I don’t smoke.
M: I thought maybe you started!
A: I haven’t started my job hunt, you think I’ll start smoking?!
M: I have… Ugh. I feel terrible.
A: Take another drag.
[They’re on the swings, holding the chains and bending backwards, looking at the trees and the buildings above.]
M: [softly] So I’m part of this now?
A: You got fired yesterday.
M: I quit yesterday.
A: Well, the first week is great. You’re still in a routine. Breakfast is still a valid meal during the day. And you make up your sleep deficit.
M: I can’t wait to sleep for more than five hours a night.
A: This is the only week you’ll be able to. Afterwards, stress leads to insomnia, and the next thing you know you’ve finished one season of a shitty comedy TV series in one night and you didn’t laugh once.
M: Hahah-
A:[cutting off the laughter] And then comes the purge. You start with deleting the news apps because everything is terrible and you’re helpless. Then YouTube and Spotify because people are making money off of ads and you’re still broke?!
M: Hey, I-
A: After that you delete all your social media accounts just to punish yourself, but you end up feeling free and liberated, and then feel guilty about it.
M: [looks at Animisha fearfully]
A: Then the loneliness comes. You’ve already started measuring time in TV series. For me, January was Mad Men.
M: Is that when you bought hair wax and started combing your hair like Don Draper?
A: [narrows her eyes like Don Draper] You try talking to other unemployed people but they’re either ‘between jobs’ or ‘freelancers’. I met five druggies at an afterparty who have been on a three year ‘sabbatical’.
M: …Friends?
A: They rolled the joint we smoked which looks like a cigarette, so yeah I’d say they’re my friends.
M: This sounds terrible.
A: It’s not all bad. You can masturbate any time, which is fun. But you’ll only do it to feel something that isn’t hunger.
M: [shakes her head with a dejected look on her face] I’m going to the jungle gym.
[They’re sitting at a bench right outside a school gate, eating ice cream. Children are running towards their school buses, or to their parents. Everyone is looking at them.]
M: That mom just crossed the road with her two kids because she didn’t want to pass by us.
A: Hahaha, I remember being that kid, and I’ll probably be that mom one day, too.
M: I would’ve never gotten three scoops, but I figured, I can go to the gym everyday now. I mean, at least for the first week…
A: Look, I’m sorry for being so grim at the park. I quit my job to write. It’s been six months and all I’ve done is gotten a bunch of twitter followers and written un-marketable youtube sketches.
M: I loved the links you sent me.
A: Everyone did! And still no one is willing to make them.
[Maithri notices all the kids in the bus parked in front of them are looking at them.]
M: I uhh-
A: I’m sorry, I’m being grim again, I jus-
M: No… Another mom just avoided us.
A: Haha! Classic.
M: I thought we were here to pick up your niece!
A: I’m an only child. We’re here to eat ice cream in front of these kids and teach them how to deal with temptation.
M: Oh my god!
[ She throws the remaining ice cream into the bin next to her and a little girl who had been looking at the ice cream for the last ten minutes begins to cry.]
[They’re in the car, on the same road as the first scene, but headed in the opposite direction, going home. Maithri is driving.]
A: Thanks for driving. It’s nap-time for me and I didn’t want to scratch the car again.
M: [stares ahead]
A: I’m sorry for being terrible.
M: You’re not terrible.
A: I feel terrible and I do terrible things and I can’t stop.
M: Just, stop.
A: I was unhappy at work, and I’m unhappy when I’m out of work. What if this is just who I am? Sad and terrible.
M: [sighs] I decided to quit my job when, last month, a thumb tack got stuck in the sole of my shoe, so I took it off to try and remove the tack.
A: Yeah those pins hurt more than Lego.
M: No, I put my foot on the carpet and realised, I had been sitting in the same cubicle for two years and I didn’t know what the carpet felt like.
A: What did it feel like?
M: It was bristly, but it doesn’t matter. I had stopped feeling things. A few days after that, I saw the newsstory about the refugees and I felt… nothing.
A: That story made me delete InShorts.
M: You know what I’ve been wanting to do?
A: What?
M: To pet something new. A new animal. I’ve pet cats and dogs, and your hamster before it ran away. And that was… two years ago.
[They both drive along in silence for a while]
A: One of the druggies I met that day has a pet snake.
M: So, we’re headed to Bandra?
A: How did you know he lives in Bandra?
M: I didn’t.
How To Critique
[Animisha and Siddharth are exiting a movie theatre. Siddharth looks happy, and Animisha is trying to adjust to the bright lights outside.]
Siddharth: What do you think?
Animisha: It’s a movie.
Siddharth: Yeah, but, what do you think they were trying to say?
Animisha: ’They’?
S: The director, the writer…
A: They were trying to say something?
S: Uhh… What do you think the movie means?
A: I’m still figuring out where the director or writer said stuff.
S: It’s just a tool used to critique cinema and other f-
A: I mean, It was mostly the actors who said stuff. And that woman sitting next to me.
S: A woman?
A: She thought they gave her nachos without salsa because the movie was about poor people and that it was part of “the theme”.
S: What?!
A: Yeah, hasn’t she heard of Doritos? Or a rip-off?
S: No… you thought the movie was about poor people?
A: Well, it was about people. And they weren’t in the 1%. So…
S: Well, all movies are about… people.
A: So you’re saying I’m wrong?
S: We saw Whiplash! Miles Teller playing drums and-
A: Oh, right. Sorry. Miles is probably in the 1%.
S: Were you even watching?
A: Could you call it a musical? Because it was very musical.
S: It was not a musical.
A: Happy Feet!
S: Happy Feet?
A: A musical which is not about people!
S: What?
A: You said all movies are about people. Happy Feet isn’t.
S: It’s not a musical either.
A: I think, for me, the definition of a musical is very wide.
S: You can’t make up definitions!
A: Okay… then my opinion of musicals is very wide.
S: Is this the first time you’ve seen anything on screen?!
A: Oh please, I’ve been binge-watching Arrested Development since I was two.
S: Seems inaccurate but it explains a lot.
A: In my OPINION, this movie was a musical about poor people.
S: Please stop. You’re ruining the whole experience for me.
A: The whole experience?
S: Well, the food was good, and I thought the movie was good, too, until you ruined it.
A: I stole the lady’s salsa and put it on our burger. The food was only good because I made it good.
S: Oh my god.
A: And the movie was only bad because I made it bad.
S: Uh-huh.
A: So see you next Friday?
S: I uhh, y’know… I’m just… not…
A: What are you trying to say?… Oh! Hahaha!
S: Why are you laughing?
A: I asked what you were trying to say, which means I was critiquing your cinema.
How To Flirt
[Animisha is on the phone with Siddharth. She is sprawled on the bed in her room, scrolling through Pinterest. Siddharth is in his room, sitting by the window, smoking something of dubious origins.]
A: I finished Fargo season 2.
S: Wasn’t it great? Told you it was great.
A: It was so great. I cancelled a booty call for it.
S: Told you, best single season of any TV show.
A: Yup.
S: So, are you still taking booty calls from that Tinder guy?
A: Yup.
S: Still him? You hadn’t mentioned him in a while so I thought that ended.
A: Yup.
S: … So it is over?
A: Well, you know how it is.
S: I don’t, no.
A: It’s over but it’s not fully over.
S: This isn’t normal.
A: Right, I keep forgetting how stable you are.
S: Is that guy stable at all?
A: Of course not. He’s super obsessed with me.
S: I used to be stalker-level obsessed with you, too, for a bit. So I’m guessing it’s normal for you?
A: The other night, we were out with a bunch of friends, and he pointed to a girl two tables over and asked us all, “Do you think she’s pretty?”. We all looked over and, well, she was weird looking… Glasses, bad posture, frizzy hair. We were confused but this guy kept harping on about how hot he thought she was.
S: Was he was pointing at another girl?
A: Nope. But then I saw it.
S: The other girl?
A: Nope. The same girl he was pointing to, the weird looking one… She was my doppelgänger.
S: Wow.
A: Everyone there shot me looks saying “Girl, you’re fucked.”
S: Maybe he has a type?
A: Of course he does. His type is me.
S: Elaborate, please.
A: His type is exactly me, but maybe with a better butt?
S: Again, wow.
A: That much adoration is rare to find. And hard to give up. It’s messing with my future abilities to have stable human relationships.
S: Is that why you refuse to meet me?
A: Well, we’ve been talking for almost four months now. Meeting now would mean not having a shot at the world record of phone-zoning a dude.
S: It’s been four months?! What am I even doing.
A: Helping me set a world record?
S: You know what?
A: … What?
S: The main reason I want to meet you is to see how different you are from what I imagine you to be. Phone calls can’t convey body language, connections…
A: So you want to meet me as a social experiment?
S: Yes.
A: But, I can be a different person at different times. It’s like all those people in Fargo. What if you meet me on the wrong day… What then? What then?!
S: Then you’ll live up to one of the images of you in my head.
A: I feel weird being your social experiment. I want to be in control. I should be the one doing the experimenting.
S: You’ll find a way to make this about yourself. I believe in you.
A: Haha! Wow, you know me better than I thought you did.
S: Four months have to count for something.
A: [sigh] Look, I’m not trying to lead you on or anyth-
S: I know. I mean, without the goal of sex the talking isn’t worth that large effort. But I have fun talking to you. I want to do it. It doesn’t seem like ‘effort’.
A: I’m honoured. I like making hot boys get intellectual boners through my words.
S: … Do you write erotica?
A: No.
S: Soft core counts.
A: Yes.
S: You do?
A: It’s basically a transcript of all my texts with fuckboys on the internet.
S: [murmurs] Why do I keep forgetting how unstable you are?
A: I call it- Intellectual Boners.
S: You know, you used to be much hotter before.
A: You mean flirtier? Because trust me my body is better now. I do squats.
S: … That’s another reason why I want to meet you. I’ve never had such strongly conflicting feelings about someone.
A: I’ll take that as a compliment.
S: Of course.
A: [softly] Hey.
S: What?
A: Just, you know, for future references, what made you stalker-level obsessed with me?
S: I can’t tell you. I might use it for an erotica later.
A: Haha, that’s sad.
S: What’s sad?
A: That you have to depend on me, someone you’ve never met, for erotica material. I mean, you’re a single guy with side chicks!
S: [sadly] Yeah.
A: And that’s not going well?
S: It is. It’s… convenient.
A: Convenient?
S: I mean, I’m good in bed, but it still doesn’t feel great, you know?
A: All I know is I’d rather be in a ‘convenient’ situation than in a crazy one.
S: On a scale of 1 to 10 how crazy do you think you are?
A: I’m an 8, but in public I can pull of a 3 without effort.
S: … I hesitate to call you non-crazy sometimes.
A: I bet you don’t consider yourself crazy at all. Just like you don’t think you’re gay.
S: They’re both at a 2, I think.
A: If you date me, you’ll go crazy, probably consider being bi, and you’ll be proud of both.
S: Alright. That’s it. This level of absurdity means it’s time for me to go.
A: Haha, sure.
S: Bye.
A: You know, being good in bed is a myth. It’s like being a good conversationalist. It takes two. So, don’t beat yourself up about the side chick situation.
S: Huh. That’s a nice way to put it.
A: Quite a non-crazy thing to say, right?!
S: You have a great non-crazy side to you.
A: Th- Thanks.
S: Tsk, Such potential.
How not to talk to an ex.
[Animisha and Nikhil are standing at the bar of a loud pub, having just bumped into each other, after almost a year. They are grinning awkwardly, but they don’t break eye-contact.]
N: I don’t even remember the-
A: At Starbucks.
N: What?
A: The last time we met… It was at Starbucks.
N: Oh.
A: That’s what you were going to ask, right?
N: Right now?
A: Yeah.
N: Yeah, I guess.
A: Do you remember now?
N: [condescendingly] I remember what I asked you five seconds ago, I’m not stupid.
A: No, I mean, do you now remember the last time we met?
N: Yeah, I guess. But I don’t go to Starbucks, so I’m not sure if you’re right.
A: We didn’t go.
N: What?
A: You took me to the chai stall right outside the Starbucks. We ate that fried thing, too.
N: Bread pakora.
A: Yes. It was special.
N: Bread pakora is special…
[awkward silence]
A: Also, I don’t think you’re stupid. I-
N: When did I say I was stupid?!
A: No, you said you weren’t stupid.
N: I’m not!
A: Yeah! That’s what I’m saying, too.
N: Why is this even under debate?
A: It’s not!
N: Then what are we talking about?
A: [sighs] Look, I’m just nervous.
N: [mocking laughter] Nervous? Since when do you get nervous?
A: Well, talking to you, meeting you…
N: Talking to guys is making you nervous? That’s just bad feminism.
A: “Bad feminism”?
N: All that harping on about not being afraid, and being equals… And now you’re scared to talk to boys? To me?! Heh, I mean, what is-
A: You’re not just any boy. I’m not nervous because you’re a boy. We have history. [leans in, whispers] You cried on the phone for thirty minutes after we broke up.
N: So men can’t cry now? And you call yourself a feminist?
A: Of course you can cry.
N: [loudly] How can you shame me for that, as a feminist?
A: Why do you keep bringing feminism up? That has nothing to do with what we went through. Can we just leave all the feminist talk aside and have an open discussion-
N: Feminism isn’t something you can just put aside, Animisha. You should know. It is part of the discussion.
A: [skeptically]… In our relationship as well?
N: [angrily] Is your new boyfriend a feminist?
A: Isn’t everyone a feminist now?
N: [voice rising] Is that why you chose him?
A: Do people really choose anymore?
N: Was I not feminist enough for you?!
A: There are grades of feminism?
N: [frustrated] Stop answering me like I’m some stupid little child!
A: I said you weren’t stupid!
[long pause]
N: Are you done?
A: We didn’t even begin talking about our breakup-
N: -Done enjoying all this male attention, I mean.
A: From you? Well, it was always nice to hear y-
N: That’s all you’re here for, isn’t it? Not to talk, just to get attention from me. Attention that you crave.
A: Haha, you enjoy giving me the attention as much as I enjoy receiving it.
N: That’s not true.
A: That’s why we clicked. That’s what got us through a six-month relationship.
N: You’re just tryi-
A: You would make me laugh and I would… laugh.
N: I was practicing for stand-up!
A: You would want to touch me and I would… moan.
N: You faked?!
A: You’d talk endlessly and I would, well, listen.
N: Do you fake with your current boyfriend as well?
A: But you never listened to me.
N: I thought it was against feminism to fake it.
A: … But you never listened.
I told jokes and people bowed.
Us, Uglies.
[Animisha and Rohan are sitting across from each other on a tiny table at a coffee shop. Animisha is leaning forward, and Rohan is trying to ignore her piercing gaze.]
Animisha: So what do you think?
Rohan: Of what?
Animisha: Of my idea!
Rohan: Oh.
A: Did you like it?
R: Yeah! I mean, you wrote it…
A: I did.
R: So, I mean, it has to be good…
A: So, you liked it.
R: Yeah!
A: You sure?
R: Sure of?
A: Are you sure that you liked it?
R: This is confusing…
A: What’s so confusing?! I want to write about A Day In The Life Of An Attractive Male, and I’m asking you for insight. Will you help or not?
R: You’re not a dude.
A: I’m not. But I’m a good writer. And I just need you to give me a few starting points… You don’t need to do anything, just tell me about your life.
R: My life?
A: Yeah, like, what you do during the day, how you see the world, what are your opinions on things.
R: My opinions?
A: Dude, what is the big deal here? Why are you denying me this information? You would tell a friend, or your girlfriend, right? So, why can’t you tell me? This is great. Just, so typical of you hot guys. You have everything, and yet you want to see us uglies grovel. It’s jus-
R: You’re not ugly.
A: Please don’t change the subject. And don’t make me grovel. It’s jus-
R: I’m not changing the subject, I just said you weren’t ugly.
A: You just did it again!
R: Okay, what do you want to know? I lead a normal life. I wake up, go to work, hang out with friends, and go to sleep. I bet everyone does these things.
A: [sighs] I think we need a new approach.
R: Why am I helping you write about hot dudes?!
A: Because you want to be understood and seen as more than just a pretty face?
R: Uhh…
A: [narrows her eyes] I’ll pick out a gift for your mom’s birthday.
R: [grabs her hand] I’ll tell you anything you need.
A: Okay. Imagine… that you’re accepting The Booker Prize.
R: The what?
A: The Pulitzer?
R: I don’t…
A: Imagine you’re accepting an Oscar.
R: Cool.
A: An Oscar for best screenplay. It’s your best work ever and you’re proud of the movie you wrote. Are you imagining?
R: Yes.
A: Okay! Well, what do you think your movie is about?
R: I think it’s a romance.
A: Good! Go on.
R: [staring up to his left] It’s about this boy. He’s good looking. But also down to earth. And he meets this girl. And he’s super rich but she isn’t. But she built her life up herself. And he falls in love, but she doesn’t. He can get all these others girls, but he just wants her. Then he loses his money. But she still loves him. Oh wait, she didn’t love him… He still loves her, and then maybe she loses her money. But he’s the rich one… Or maybe-
A: Stop! Well. That was [scoff] good. Thank you for your uhh, opinions. But, could this script work even if the guy was average-looking?
R: Probably.
A: So you didn’t really help me much.
R: Hey, you asked me about my movie, not your book.
A: It was an approach.
R: Approach to what?
A: To give me insight into the life of an attractive male!
R: Why would I write a movie about attractive males?!
A: I assumed you would write a movie about yourself!
R: Hey, I don’t walk around calling myself “hot”, you know.
A: Well, I don’t walk around calling myself “ugly” eithe- Oh.
R: What?
A: I think I just figured out the difference between the lives of a hot person and an ugly person.
thank you for sharing
“I don’t know.” I said, but I knew that this woman sitting in front of me, holding an expensive notepad which contained a series of questions all stemming from a singular answer which she expected of me, wanted a story. She wanted to hear a tale, winding and intricate, with the right amount of humour and gravity, to appeal to her readers who, like her, raised their expectations as they clicked on a link, this link, my link, to be entertained. They might be on a train, in a line, at a cafe, or with people who generally had nothing to discuss except the culturally significant opinions mentioned in articles online; and a reader, this reader, my reader, wanted something new, yet within the same domain so as to not draw too much attention to themselves in case they cannot sustain it. The woman sitting across from me waited an extra second for my answer with a practised smile which was intended to be inviting, and yet the more she prolonged it, the more threatening it looked, revealing her fear that she may have to extrapolate the tale herself, drawing from a third person’s experiences which had a greater chance of failure, and more readers underwhelmed, and how would she buy expensive notepads if she couldn’t do her job.
I sighed and began, “Well…”
The Goodness Scheme
“And then what did you say?”
“What is there to say?”
“Did you shout?”
“What?”
“You must have at least shown him the finger.”
“I… I can’t.”
“It’s not against the law to hold up a finger. My nephew looked it up for a school debate. I know for a /fact./”
“No, I mean I physically can’t show the finger.”
“Not even a little?”
“Of course a little, I’m not a cripple.”
“Crippled… you mean ‘crippled’. Otherwise you’re being ableist.”
“… Then I guess I’m ableist.”
“You can’t be a feminist and ableist. They’re the same sensibilities! It’s a shared feeling of being oppressed as a minority.”
“So a woman is as much a minority as a cripple?”
“No! No… Why’re you turning this around on me?! You didn’t even flip off the other guy before, but here I’m a villain?!”
“…”
“You keep pointing out misogyny like you’re being paid for it, and you’re attacking me now?! Me!-“
“…”
“-I’ve been your biggest ally, ever since we crossdressed all th-“
“STOP.”
“… all the-“
“Yes! I know what happened! I was there.”
“I’m just tired of being the bad guy when clearly I’m not.”
“Well, I’m tired of being the person who calls out bad guys.”
“But, that’s the fun part. What’s the point of being a feminist if you can’t openly debase men for not following your personal ideals of equality?”
“You’re right… What /is/ the point of being a feminist?”
“Wait, that’s not what I said…”
“We spoke up to raise awareness about women’s issues and now, everyone is aware. So what’s the next step? What should a hyper-aware generation do without solutions?”
“Maybe, find solutions?”
“The correct thing to do can’t be dictated to people. There are no right solutions. Each situation must be judged, variable factors weighed in, and only then can a person decide what is right /for them, in that moment/.”
“So, you’re going to give up?”
“No. I’m going to be nice.”
“Nice?”
“Nice.”
“Nice… Seems like an alien concept coming from you.”
“It’s the only way to give people space so they can develop their own ideals of equality, instead of shoving mine down their throats.”
“… You’re going to be nice…”
“Is that ableist?”
“Being nice is a not-yet-named-ist.”
“No, I meant the throat shoving phrase. It should be ableist…”
“It’s uhh-“
“Because showing the finger is also technically a metaphor. They could fall in the same category. Hmm.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell the guy to fuck off? Because you’re being nice now?”
“Yes. But I really can’t keep my middle finger straight if I fold in the rest of the fingers. It hurts, and everything looks awkward and… deviated.”
“You’re going to make a terrible lesbian.”
Two Women Discuss Things Ep. 17
[Animisha and Vinita are lazing on the couch. The TV is on but they’re not watching it.]
Animisha: [in a fake-soothing tone] Everyone has bad days…
Vinita: I hate my job.
A: Everyone hates their jobs…
V: And my boss is a jerk.
A: All bosses are jerks…
V: But mine, he… He picks on people simply for being themselves.
A: Wow, he kinda sounds like the male version of me.
V: [looks at Animisha skeptically] Ugh, at least you stopped with that fake voice.
A: [in fake-soothing tone] But I was just trying to help…
V: It’s taunting-boss-voice now…
A: Look, moping is stupid. Just follow your Sadness Protocol.
V: My what?
A: Your Sadness Protocol. Every time I get sad, I follow a fixed set of instructions I wrote for myself, which would guarantee that I feel better.
V: Guarantee?
A: Yeah, but each person needs to develop their own. Mine may not work on you.
V: Oh, I think I know what my Sadness Protocol would be.
A: [skeptical] What?
V: Watching you go through your protocol.
[Animisha is digging into her closet. Vinita is inspecting the messy room with fascination.]
V: I now understand why you love Jackson Pollock so much.
A: [emerging from the closet holding a notebook] Found it! This is where the Protocol started.
V: Is that your 12th std chemistry notebook? Haha, no wonder you were sad.
A: [flipping through the pages] Okay, there are way more of these than I remember.
V: Really?
A: Yeah. There are the ones I do now- ‘Exercise.’ ‘Clean your room.’ ’Take a shower.’ ‘Eat good food.’
V: [eyeroll] Drown yourself in routine.
A: No, that’s number 12. But there are so many which I don’t do anymore- ‘Read your favourite Judy Blume book.’ ‘Write a letter to a stranger.’ ‘Sing a Britney Spears song.’
V: [taking the book from Animisha] You still do that.
A: Well she was the angel of my generation, so you can’t blame me.
V: [under her breath] Fucking millennials.
A: Her struggles with fame and stardom were real… Not a girl, not yet a woman.
V: Umm. Oops I did it again?! That’s not struggle.
A: Oh, so you think the 90’s were what, the reign of the boybands?!
V: Eminem, Jay-Z, Dr. Kray, Destiny’s Child.
A: You mean Dr. Dre?
V: Nah, Dr. Kray was my ‘hood name. I wanted to be a rapper when I grew up.
A: [under her breath] Fucking millennials.
V: [holding up a page] ’Get someone to take a good picture of you.’
A+V: [together] Oh hellz yeah!
[They’re by the window. Vinita is pretending to look out dreamily. Animisha is taking pictures from every angle.]
A: A little to your left… Yeah, try to make your nose look thinner. Yeah. Breathe in and just… hold it there. Yeah.
V: [holds her breath and shoots an angry look at Animisha]
A: A good photograph goes a long way. I mean, what if you died and they have to use your unibrow picture at your funeral?!
V: If I have to hold my breath any longer, I probably will die.
A: Well, at least you’ll die young and proportionately faced!
V: [pulls a weird face]
A: [looks at the photos taken] I think I got it. I just need to… There.
V: [takes the phone] You memed me!
A: Now all we need to do is put it on the internet and wait for validation to flow.
V: [typing] Ugh, it’s high time they put the hashtag key on the main keyboard… Also, how do you spell ‘divinity’?
[Vinita is sitting on the kitchen counter.]
A: Well I ran out of wine and champagne-
V: You never had any champagne.
A: -So we’ll have to settle for cranberry juice.
V: How do you have un-expired juice in your house?!
A: [pouring it into wine glasses] I attended an amateur performance of the Vagina Monologues last week and got a UTI. Cranberry juice helps with it.
V: [choosing to avoid any questions] So I’ve gotten twelve retweets on the meme till now. But this one guy replied with a quote from Grey’s Anatomy.
A: Yikes, that’s the wrong Gray to talk about in this day and age.
V: His bio reads- ‘Weird, funny and ready to cringe.’
A: [takes a sip] Oh.
V: And he has a blog… With poetry, some pretentious prose.
A: [another sip] Okay.
V: Oh, and his Instagram is only nudes.
A: His nudes?
V: No, his boyfriend’s.
A: He sounds exactly like the male version of me.
V: Why are all your male alter-egos people I would punch in the face?
A: [downs her glass] Huh, not sure.
V: Yeah, maybe deep down inside all the coolest women are just trashy dudes who would get punched a lot.
A: [pours herself another glass] If good women would make bad men, then maybe women created Meninism.
V: I’ll drink to that. [takes her first sip, and spits it out] You said this wasn’t expired!
A: You say expired, I say fermented. [downs her second glass and starts walking out of the kitchen]
V: Where are you going?
A: To exercise, take a shower, clean my room and eat good food.
V: [calls her back] I’m sorry I said I would violently beat you to death if you were a boy.
A: You said you’d punch me!
V: I was sugarcoating.
A: I almost blamed women for starting Meninism. I need to activate Sadness Protocol asap.
V: OR, we could look at your this guy’s boyfriend’s nudes together.
A: [smiles, and sits next to Vinita] Yeah that could work.
[FADE OUT]
V: [starts scrolling] So they’re not nudes as much as gym selfies, and those two aren’t actually dating. More like hetero friends who touch each other’s butts a lot…