Life Is High School

SHELLY OPENS THE DOOR TO HER HOUSE. ANDY IS THERE.

ANDY

Hi Shelly. Remember me? Andy Morhead? From Lincoln High?

SHELLY

Um, uh…OH! Yeah! We used to call you Gimme! Gimme Morhead! Ha-ha. That still makes me laugh!

ANDY

No one calls me that anymore.

SHELLY

Aw, that’s too bad. It’s funny. But it has been a while-

ANDY

30 years.

SHELLY

Already? Wow. So, what are you doing here?

ANDY

I’m here to make good on this. (he pulls out a yearbook and points to an inscription inside)

SHELLY

(reading) Dear Andy-You’re a cutie. Call me in 30 years and we’ll get married! XO, Shelly.

ANDY

So.

SHELLY

Yeah? It’s cute.

ANDY

I’m here to collect.

SHELLY

(starts to laugh) No really.

ANDY

I have a proof of you agreeing to marry me 30 years from the date written. Today is that day.

SHELLY

It’s not a contract, Andy. It’s just a silly high school inscription.

ANDY

It’s a written document. Upheld by the law.

SHELLY

No way. I’m not marrying you.

ANDY

You have to.

SHELLY

No I don’t. Besides, why would you want to marry me? You don’t even know me.

ANDY

Oh, I know you. You’ve been divorced 3 times and swear you’ll never marry another drunk/sponge/unemployable loser again. You’ve been trying to lose the same thirty pounds for the past ten years. You hate your menial cubicle job but it pays the bills, and you recently started drinking at work. You are slowly beginning to accept that high school was the high point of your life.

SHELLY

You’ve really done your research.

ANDY

Not really. It’s pretty much standard for any high school prom queen.

SHELLY

Oh.

ANDY

Don’t feel bad. I’m a cliché too. Big nerd in high school goes to an Ivy League school and invents a social networking phenomenon that makes him billions, but he’ll always be a nerd.

SHELLY

Billions, huh?

ANDY

Yep.

SHELLY

That’s exciting.

ANDY

It’s not bad. So what do you say?

SHELLY

Nope.

ANDY

But why?

SHELLY

I can be that mean bitch who is now an ugly hag. I can be that failure who was only on top of the heap at 17. I can be a fat, bloated, alcoholic loser. I can be a shitty mother and a co-dependent partner. But I can never, ever, ever be Mrs. Gimme. I don't have the stomach.

ANDY

But no one calls me that anymore!

SHELLY

I do.

SLAMS DOOR.