by Jen

Miguel (patting his stomach): Good food baby.

Toby: I do my best.

Vern: Why don't you ever cook meals for me hon?

Claire: It's funny. After I buy bread, water, and toothpaste, my luxurious budget of three worn pennies mysteriously disappears.

Vern: Still find a way to tie the feedbag over that pig face.

Toby: Why don't you just shut your ugly Nazi mouth?

(Miguel glares at Toby)

Vern: Why I never! Some of my best friends are Jewish. The watchmaker, the tailor...

Claire: What's that great pal's name? Good Willberg?

Miguel (pointing his finger toward the kitchen): Don't you got dishes to do Toby?

Toby: I know, I know. Time for man talk.

(Toby and Claire go into the kitchen)

Miguel: Don't know what gets into him man.

Vern: You're a nice enough guy, but holy crap, how I wanna snap Toby's neck.

(the kitchen)

Toby: For some reason, I loathe that blonde bullethead.

Claire: Hate him now? Talk to me after you've been Mrs. Vern Schillinger for 10 years!

Toby: I'm so lucky to have Mickey. Caring, gorgeous, hot-blooded, gorgeous, dedicated...

Claire: You forgot gorgeous.

Toby: If only he'd put me in the show.

Claire (rolling her eyes): Don't start that malarkey about being in the show! You know how he goes off.

Toby: I'd be great, I know it. Think of the money pouring in if my success in Mickey's revue gained national interest. New clothes, no more old stove. We could finally go from black and white to color! Claire, I just have to do this.

Claire: Self-destructive sonuva gun, aren't ya?

(in the living room)

Miguel: The shows ain't makin' any money. None. I'd get more sellin' fruit on the side of the road.

Vern: Singing and dancing is old hat. You need something fresh, vibrant. Maybe some hotcha girls.

Miguel: That's what I been thinkin'. Starting tomorrow I'm holdin' auditions for strippers.

Vern (drumming fingers against his chin): strippers...(jumps from his seat) Hold on a second! Strippers? Nude babes with big tits?

Miguel: Last time I checked, yeah. Wait'll you see the honey flyin' in from LA.

Vern: Let me come, please Miguel. Please.

Miguel: A'ight, better keep it a secret from the Mrs.

Vern: No problem there, one good fu...uh...she'll have problems walking tomorrow. Oughta keep her distracted.

Miguel: What is that? Why can't we ever say...

(lights dim)

Vern: What's going on?

(Claire runs out, holding a large, hastily written card)

Miguel: Presenting the one, the only, Toby Beecher...Oh Dios Mio.

(Toby glides in, wearing a sleek tuxedo)

Toby (taps the kitchen spoon): Testing, testing. OK. (clears throat) I hear the cottonwoods whispering above...Tammy, Tammy, Tammy's in looovvvee...the old hootie owl hootie hoo...

Vern (hands cupped around mouth): Hoot! Hoot! Don't quit your day job ToBS!

Claire (lightly clapping): Toldja you shoulda sang I Got It Bad And That Ain't Good.

Toby: Mickey? Mickey?

(Miguel's face is buried in the tablecloth)

Toby: Mickey? Are you crying?

(Miguel lifts his head up, laughing hysterically)

Miguel: Oh my sides...bue-bueno baby...

Toby: I'm glad I could amuse you. Pendejo!

(Toby runs into the bedroom, slamming the door)

Miguel: You guys better go. There's no getting through to him tonight.

Claire: Ah Miguel it was so dumb to laugh. He must think you're the worst husband in the world.

Vern: March in there and give that panty-waist a *real* reason to cry.

Claire: Second worst.

(thirty minutes later)

Miguel: Last time. I'm real sorry.

(no response)

Miguel: You asked for it!

(Miguel kicks the door down)

Miguel: Toby? Toby?

(Miguel finds Toby frozen in the bathroom mirror)

Miguel: Don't shut down on me now. I said I was sorry.

Toby: Sorry isn't good enough. Ah Mickey, don't you see I was doing it for you?

Miguel (staring at his reflection): Yeah.

Toby: For us?

Miguel (smiling, rubbing his face): Uh-huh.

Toby: For the biracial love babies I'm carrying inside me?

Miguel (checking his body out): Sure.

(Toby steps in front of the mirror)

Toby: I have very low self-esteem and I don't like being laughed at.

Miguel (running his fingers over Beecher's neck): I know babe. Promise I'll call you first time there's a hole in the act. Can you forgive me?

Toby: Not the puppy dog eyes.

Miguel (pulling off his shirt): Let's go fu...why can't I say it? What's stoppin' me from saying that frickin' word?

Toby: 1950's television morality? A chip in your brain? Lactose intolerance?

Miguel (pushing Toby's white dress shirt off his shoulders as he nuzzles his neck): Talkin' ain't my strong suit anyway.

Toby (squirming at the hand in his pants): Oh Mickey, let's go...YES right there...push our twin beds together.

Miguel (stepping out of his boxers): Don't call me that. My name's Miguel. And we got a floor right here.

Toby (sighing as he sinks to his knees): There's nothing better than going south of the border.

(next day)

Toby: Vaya con dios...la la la...

(Miguel sneaks behind him, grabbing his ass)

Toby: Mickey!

Miguel (snaking his arms around Toby's waist): Miguel. Last night was so good, didn't wanna leave the bed.

Toby: What else is new?

Miguel: Better clean and cook real good tonight, I got a surprise for you.

Toby (dropping the egg on the stove): What is it? What? A shopping spree? A new green t-shirt?

Miguel: Just know you gotta be on your best behavior.

(Miguel kisses him on the cheek and leaves for work)

Toby: I wonder...

(Toby hears knocking on the nearby back door)

Toby (looking through the curtain): Claire?

(Toby opens the door)

(Claire walks in with a young man in a headlock)

Claire: Wah wah, the check's late cause your mommy died and you had to pay for the funeral. Tough crap!

(Claire punches him out, throwing his limp body over her shoulder)

Claire: Can I use the john?

Toby: Don't muss the floor. I just waxed.

(Toby hears sounds of repeated flushing, then the man runs out crying, with a drenched head)

Claire: That'll teach ya to stiff us on the rent!

(Claire pops a piece of bacon into her mouth as Toby looks on, dazed)

Toby: I'll never get used to that.

Claire: Mmmmph..almost forgot. After Vern finished pounding me last night, he passed out, like all men do. Boy does he talk in his sleep. Guess what he said!

Toby: Sieg heil?

Claire: He said Miguel was gonna open up a strip club. And without telling you. This hot tramp is flying in any day now!

Toby: And he said he had a surprise for me.

Claire: He's got a surprise alright. VD! Probably wants you to get silicone implants and everything. I bet he's bringing this floozy into your home so he can have his meat and eat out too.

Toby: No. Not Mickey. He wouldn't...

(at the club)

Vern (smiling at the girl gyrating in his lap): She's a beaut Miguel. A real prize.

Miguel: Bambi, you're hired. Toby's still shaken up after last night, I'm gonna surprise him after work.

Vern: He needs a ticket to the nut house.

Miguel: He needs to know I support his dreams. I called up the best talent agent I could find, gonna bring her home for dinner tonight. He'll love it. Only thing is, she don't look much like a typical talent agent.

(later that night)

Toby (whispering to himself): No cooking sherry. No cooking sherry.

Miguel: Toby, I'm home!

Toby: I'm in the kitchen dear.

Miguel: I got somebody you might want to see.

(Toby peeks out the shutter, seeing a buxom blonde)

Toby: Be out in a minute!

(Toby takes a long swig from the cooking sherry before he goes into the living room)

Toby (swaying slightly): Tart.

Sally (breathy voice): Excuse me?

Toby: Want any tarts?

Sally: No thank you.

Miguel: Toby, this is Sally Andrews. She's...

Toby: How do ya do Chesty?

Sally: My name is Sally.

Toby: Shh. Hush up! S'time for dinner.

(halfway through the meal)

Sally: Miguel, I love your tattoos.

Toby: He's got a lot nicer things to look at than his tattoos.

Miguel (grinning with pride): I got one on my back if...

Toby (staring at Sally's chest): Now don't point.

Sally: I wasn't.

Toby: Sorry. D'ever tell you about the time my family told me to choose between them and Mickey, and I chose Mickey? Even though I can never see my mom or pop or brother or lil' nieces and nephews again?

Miguel: Don't do this.

Toby: Why doncha go fix us s'more wine Mickey? Hits the spot.

Miguel: OK honey...Sally, he usually ain't like this.

Toby: Don't you speak for me! Basta!

(Miguel shakes his head and goes into the kitchen)

Sally: I'm afraid I don't know any Spanish.

Toby (smiling): Really? Easy to learn. Here's how you say thanks for dinner.

(Toby whispers in her ear)

Sally: Fascinating.

(Miguel walks back in)

Sally (smiling at Miguel): Tu mama ese puta.

(Miguel drops the bottle)

Miguel: What'd you say?

Sally: Tu mama ese puta.

Miguel: Get the fu..fu..get outta here!

Sally: He told me to say it.

Miguel: He did? Then you must be sharin' a brain.

Toby: No, we're just sharin' you.

Miguel: What the hell you talkin' about?

Toby: Claire told me you dragged this hoochie into our home! From a strip club no less!

(Miguel throws his hands up)

Miguel: She's no stripper. She's a casting agent!

Toby: What?

Sally: You think I'm a stripper?

Toby (sobering up): Please Ms. Sally, I'm sorry. I've had a very difficult time, I can't control my needs and wants.

(Sally slaps him)

Sally (running toward the door): I'll call you when we need some pigs flying around in frozen Hell.

(Sally leaves)

(Miguel throws a plate against the wall)

Toby: Now, Mickey...

(Miguel slams him against the table)

Miguel: What I tell you? Call me by my name bitch! I bust my ass every day to pay for your clothes and shit, all my 'migos and family ditched me cause I took up with some loco white boy. Didn't care though, we loved each other. What I get in return? Disrespect! No trust. Nothing! FUCK! Now I can say it...FUCK! What you got to say for yourself?

(Toby's lower lip quivers slightly as he blanches in Miguel's grip)