GK: Hello?

SS: Honey, it's your mother, remember? Happy Thanksgiving, Duane.

GK: Hi mom.

SS: I got your voice mail that you were going to New York for Thanksgiving and of course we were disappointed, I'd fixed an organic free-range gluten-free turkey for you, no hormones, no feed additives, and he was killed humanely by lethal injection ---- and I made your favorite peach pie and I invited Sandy and Dominique because I know you like them so much, but we just took away the extra place setting and nobody said anything, it was okay ---- it was what it was ---- and so how was your Thanksgiving? I can't imagine spending Thanksgiving in New York but I guess that's just me. You have friends there? Hello? Duane? Are you there? Did I lose you? Hello?

GK: Hi, mom.

SS: What's wrong, honey? You're so quiet.

GK: I'm fine, Mom.

SS: So who did you spend Thanksgiving with, honey? Not that it's any of my business, but I hope your holiday was nice. Is it that girl you met online? The one with the big hips that didn't show up in the picture she sent?

GK: No, I came out to interview for a job.

SS: You what?

GK: I saw an ad for a job writing tweets for political candidates.

SS: You're not thinking of moving there, are you?

GK: Well, if they make me an offer I guess I would.

SS: Does this mean you've given up on the novel?

GK: I don't know.

SS: "I don't know" means yes, Duane. I had a dream about you moving to New York. You fell down unconscious in the street and people were walking over you and nobody tried to help you.

GK: New York isn't like that, Mom.

SS: You don't want to stay close to those who know and love you? ---Don't answer that. Maybe I should come over and bring you your Christmas present early. It's a fish bowl. Made in Finland. By Finnish people.

GK: Okay, Mom.

SS: Anyway. Listen, my arthritis is killing me- I've got to hang upside down for a minute-talk to your dad, he's right here-Hank? Hank-


GK: Mom, see the doctor about your arthritis-

SS: There's nothing they can do. It's caused by childbirth. You rearranged my whole skeletal structure, Duane. After you came out, I never danced again. Not that I was in the mood, but anyway ---- Here- talk to the man who did it to me-

(TR MURMURS, OFF) Here, talk to your son, Hank. Talk to him, he's right here on the phone. Here, take it, just take it.


TR: Hello.

GK: Hi Dad. Happy Thanksgiving.

TR: Yeah, I guess so. I hear you're moving to New York.

GK: I don't know. Maybe.

TR: If I were you, I'd do it in a minute. Go. What's wrong with you?

GK: Well, I donno. So you didn't go to Lois and Elmer's----

TR: Nope. They're both deaf as a stone. Plus they're demented. It's a bad combination. Your mother sent me over with a tray of food and I set it on the step and rang the doorbell and ran. I think the squirrels got it.

GK: Or Louie and Myrtle's----

TR: No. They got some digestive situation going on where they can only eat raw lima beans and grapefruit. Didn't seem fair to sit and tie on the feedbag in front of them. Plus which they give off a lot of gas.

GK: Oh. Too bad.

TR: Actually I think they enjoy it. Sit there on the couch and it sounds like cannons going off.

SS: Okay. I'm back. What you talking about? (PHONE FUMBLES) Just give me the phone, give it to me---(ON ) Duane, honey are you still there?

GK: I'm here, mom.

SS (MIDWESTERN, ON PHONE): So where did you spend Thanksgiving? Tell me, I want to know.

GK: I was in New York.

SS: Who with?

GK: I was at a soup kitchen, Mom. Serving dinner to a couple hundred homeless people.

SS: Who talked you into that, Duane? What's her name?

GK: What makes you say that?

SS: I know you, Duane. Who was she?

GK: I did it because it was the right thing to do, Mom. Give me some credit.

SS: Who is she?

GK: Her name is Libby but what does that have to do with it?

SS: Libby. A new friend?

GK: We've corresponded for awhile.

SS: On Facebook? A Facebook friend?

GK: Yes and so what?

SS: Facebook is for losers, Duane. There are studies on that. People who can't converse.People who dread eye contact. And so what happened---- that's what I want to know.

GK: Awww, Mom.

SS: So if your dad and I were on Facebook, then we could see you for Thanksgiving.

GK: Mom----

SS: Or we could be homeless and go around with a wine bottle in our pocket and garbage bags around our feet.

GK: Mom.

SS: I gave birth to you, I stayed up all night with you week after week after week and cleaned up your mess and fed you from my own body and now you want to go live among eight million strangers just so you can write dumb things for dishonest men.

GK: I'll come home for Christmas.

SS: I don't want you to come because you feel you have to.

GK: I want to. I want to be here. I need to be here.

SS: Well, don't assume we'll be here waiting.

GK: I'll come home for Christmas. It'll be wonderful.

SS: Only if it would make you happy.

GK: It will.

SS: And if we're not here ---- if you come home and find that the house has been sold and the new owners have no idea where we went, only that we piled our furniture on the roof of our car like a bunch of Okies, and the neighbors don't know, and my cellphone is dead, and Dad's cellphone is dead ----- I just want you to sit in your car at the end of the driveway and think of us and all we did for you. Will you promise to do that? Will you?

GK: I will.

SS: Then I'll be happy.

GK: Okay. Good talking to you.

SS: You be careful out there.

GK: I will.

SS: Don't talk to strangers.

GK: Okay. Whatever.

SS: I love you. Bye now.

GK: Love you mom.