|
BACK TO SCREENPLAY PAGE | BACK TO SHORTS |
BABY FACTORY A Short Screenplay By Stephen Bittrich
459 Columbus Avenue, #240
New York, NY 10024
Tel: (212) 579-3015
E-mail: SBittrich@aol.com
Copyright © 1999,
by Stephen Bittrich
(Draft: October, 2000)
"BABY FACTORY"
by Stephen Bittrich
EXT. OUTSIDE DNA ALCHEMY OFFICES - DAY
The DNA ALCHEMY corporate office looms behind a large,
uninteresting sign which reads: "DNA ALCHEMY. CREATING
FAMILIES SINCE 2004."
INT. DR. SALAD'S OFFICE - DAY
DR. SALAD, early 40's and wearing a spotless white lab coat
sits behind his desk. His bubbly energy infects MR. and MRS.
WHITE, 30's, sitting primly on the opposite side of the desk.
DR. SALAD
So Mr. and Mrs. White, you're interested
in a baby!
MR. WHITE
Yes, Doctor Salad.
MRS. WHITE
It's about all we can think about!
DR. SALAD
I completely understand, Mrs. White. So
many of our clients love babies, want
babies, can only think about babies, if
you catch my meaning.
MRS. WHITE
I don't think I do...
DR. SALAD
We have so many glum, droopy, infertile
couples come through these doors,
yearning for a little bundle of joy to
call their own. They've given up hope
ever ever planting the seed of life, but
we pick them up, dust them off, and
through the miracle of science, a life is
created.
MRS. WHITE
Oh, it's so exciting!
DR. SALAD
Yes, isn't it? So first order of
business, a small questionnaire.
He slaps down a telephone book size questionnaire. Mrs.
White notices his rubber gloves.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
I find it best to work from general to
specific, don't you?
MR. WHITE
I suppose...
DR. SALAD
You would like a healthy baby?
MRS. WHITE
Yes, of course. Doesn't everybody?
DR. SALAD
Usually, but I have to ask. Some parents
find some minor genetic defect keeps the
child dependent upon them.
(making quotation marks with
his fingers on the word
"healthy"--this is a character
trait that HE employs
throughout the play)
I'm not saying it's necessarily a
"healthy" way to go...
MRS. WHITE
Oh my!
DR. SALAD
Male or female?
MR. WHITE
We'd like a...
MRS. WHITE
...a little girl!
MR. WHITE
Yes, a little girl...is that a general
question?
DR. SALAD
Oh, it gets much more specific.
Beautiful or ugly? Or somewhere in
between?
MR. WHITE
You can guarantee her looks?
DR. SALAD
To an extent yes. We work with the what
you give us. We filter elements of your
DNA. We purify it to its essence.
Have you ever noticed ugly people with a
beautiful baby?
MR. WHITE
Uh...I think...
DR. SALAD
Of course you have! Even ugly people can
get lucky! But we here at DNA Alchemy
take out the element of luck. If you
want a beautiful baby, we find the DNA in
your own make up that will best make that
happen. Of course, beauty is in the eye
of the beholder, but for Caucasians, such
as yourselves, we rely on the the Greek
models to inform our "beauty gage."
MRS. WHITE
I...I want a beautiful baby...don't you,
Honey?
MR. WHITE
Yes, well, I'd say so, yes, let's.
DR. SALAD
Excellent! A "babe" of a baby it is. As
I'm sure you can imagine, that is the
most common response. So female beauty
in the Greek model. Now Mrs. White, I
notice that you're rather flat chested.
MR. WHITE
I say...!
DR. SALAD
Do you want some genetic enhancement for
your baby in that area?
MRS. WHITE
On a baby?
DR. SALAD
Well, every good baby grows up! And here
at DNA Alchemy we don't just reflect on
the infant life, but the whole life. But
I digress. Your chest just struck me for
a moment, but that is a more "specific"
issue, and we are on the general...
tall/short?
MRS. WHITE
Uh, tall?
MR. WHITE
Tall, yes, tall. That's nice.
MRS. WHITE
Five ten.
MR. WHITE
Five ten? Well, Honey, I'm sure they
can't...
DR. SALAD
Actually, we can. Five ten it is.
Endomorph, Ectomorph, or Morph-o-morph?
MRS. WHITE
Endo...what?
MR. WHITE
Oh that's the body type, right?
DR. SALAD
Yes. Many people go with the ectomorph,
a more athletic type body type.
MR. WHITE
Oh yes, we want that!
MRS. WHITE
Really? Athletic, Honey? You don't want
her to be more...feminine?
MR. WHITE
She can be a famous athlete and support
us in our old age.
DR. SALAD
You know, and at this point in time,
that's probably still true! Of course,
if our technology ever became the norm,
as is our hope, everybody could be an
equally superior athlete. Ha ha!
Fortunately for you, economics still rule
who can and can't afford this technology.
There is a knock at the door.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
Yes?
NURSE SLUTT (OS)
Dr. Salad, your tea.
DR. SALAD
Tea? Already? Oh, very well, but it's
quite vexing.
NURSE SLUTT opens the door for DR. SALAD 2 who carries the
tea tray. She leaves, closing the door behind her.
Dr. Salad 2 is an exact doppelganger for Dr. Salad, except
Dr. Salad 2 is terribly deformed. His genital area is of
particular notice with its swollen appearance.
And to make matters even more distressing, Dr. Salad 2 seems
not quite right in the head. HE limps in with the tea tray
threatening to let it crash at every step.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
COME IN, DR. SALAD!
MRS. WHITE
But...I thought you were Dr. Salad...oh
my!
DR. SALAD
(whispering)
Yes, yes, that's right. I am Dr. Salad,
but he wants to be just like me, and it
doesn't do any harm to humor him, eh?
He's a good goose.
(shouting)
VERY GOOD, DR. SALAD! JUST SET THAT DOWN
RIGHT HERE!
(normal voice, innocently)
Tea?
MR. WHITE
Oh, I don't think...
MRS. WHITE
Not for me...
DR. SALAD
(shouting)
THIS IS MY SON!
(aside, to the Whites)
Well, sort of. He's a miracle of modern
science, don't you think?
MRS. WHITE
Yes, he...he's...
MR. WHITE
What?
DR. SALAD
Anybody can clone a sheep, eh? Doesn't
he look just like me? OKAY, DR. SALAD.
THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!
DR. SALAD 2
(with a strong speech
impediment)
Sthing...sthing a sthong.
DR. SALAD
NO! NOT TODAY! TIME'S UP, DR. SALAD!
I'VE GOT TO PLAN A BABY!
DR. SALAD 2
Sthing a sthong! Sthing a sthong!
DR. SALAD
NOOOOO!
(then instantly changing his
tune)
Oh, very well.
(aside to the Whites)
He'll never let it go otherwise.
(back to Dr. Salad 2)
WHAT SHALL WE SING? HMMMM? OH, I KNOW!
He begins a little song and dance which are quite obviously
made up completely off the top of this head.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
I got my top hat...
I got my cane...
And I'm all dressed up...
In a tuxedo...
Dancin', dancin', dancin'
Come on everybody...
He taps for a bit. It is obvious that this is completely
made up as well, but further, that he hasn't the faintest
idea how to tap dance.
Dr. Salad 2 follows along, choking up a giddy, bizarre
chortle.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
OKAY, OKAY, THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH! LOTS OF
WORK TO DO!
The door swings open urgently.
NURSE SLUTT
Dr. Salad?
DR. SALAD
Nurse Slutt! I'm in a meeting!
NURSE SLUTT
Yes, I know Dr. Salad, but...
She crosses quickly to him and whispers in his ear.
DR. SALAD
The deuce you say! Where are his
restraints?
She whispers again in his ear. Dr. Salad looks concerned,
looks over to the Whites, then puts on a fake smile.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
Excuse me for one moment, Mr. White, Mrs.
White. Little family emergency. Dr.
Salad, get them some tea, man!
DR. SALAD 2
Huh?
DR. SALAD
SOME TEA! SOME TEA!
Dr. Salad leaves with the nurse.
MRS. WHITE
(quietly, to the air)
But I don't want any tea.
Dr. Salad 2, proud as punch, gives them a toothy grin, then
begins to sing softly with a rasp, almost like the whole song
is happening somewhere in the back of his throat
DR. SALAD 2
I gok ma topf hot...
I gok ma cayne...
I awe dresthed uuuup...
There is a mournful HOWL in the outside corridor followed by
a few blood curdling screams.
DR. SALAD 2 (cont'd)
Uh oh. Bad.
Dr. Salad enters, slightly flustered with a generous squirt
of red liquid on his lab coat.
DR. SALAD
Yes, well, here I am, back again. Sorry
about that.
(loudly)
GOODBYE, DR. SALAD. TOODLES.
DR. SALAD 2
(to the Whites)
Goo-bye. I wuv you.
Dr. Salad 2 leaves.
DR. SALAD
Oh, isn't he an absolute joy? Want to
adopt him? Ha! So, where were we? Ah
yes, a baby! A little bundle of joy.
What have we got so far...healthy--check,
female--check, human--check, beautiful,
tall, ectomorph--check, check, check, and
some outraaaageous knockers!!!
MR. WHITE
Now just a moment, what's all this about
"human"?
DR. SALAD
Sorry?
MR. WHITE
You said "human--check." What does that
mean, exactly?
DR. SALAD
Well, my dear Mr. White, you do want a
"human" baby, don't you?
MRS. WHITE
Of course we do!
MR. WHITE
I'll handle this, dear. Now see here,
Dr. Salad. I don't know what sort of
place you're running here...
DR. SALAD
I mean I just assumed. We can mix in
chimp DNA, or gorilla, for example. It's
possible. Still working on cow for the
Christmas rush...
MR. WHITE
A human! A human! A human!
MRS. WHITE
Dear?
MR. WHITE
There's never been any question about
that! What sort of freaks of nature are
you spawning in this Godforsaken factory?
DR. SALAD
Actually, nature has very little to do
with it, Mr. White. SCIENCE!
(hit with an idea)
Ding! That reminds me, I am required by
the sturgeon general to provide a
"warning label," if you will, for our
product.
Dr. Salad goes over to a pull down chart on a stand and
reveals a large poster, the first of several startling
renderings of terribly deformed babies. Mr. and Mrs. White
gasp in horror.
MR. WHITE
Good God!
MRS. WHITE
Oh!
DR. SALAD
Our product comes with a ninety-nine
percent rate of full one hundred percent
pure satisfaction, but I am required by
law to inform you that there is a one
percent margin of error in every one
hundred cases, if we actually were to
test one hundred cases.
Dr. Salad pulls down another grotesque baby picture. Again
the Whites gasp.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
What this means to you, the layman and
laywoman, pardon the double entendre, is
that this science is not a perfect one,
but pretty damn near close!
He pulls down the final picture of a deformed baby which
looks to be a mixture of cow and baby.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
Ah yes, still working on that cow.
MR. WHITE
You, Doctor, are a madman!
MRS. WHITE
Let's just go, John.
DR. SALAD
Mr. White, Mrs. White. Did I tell you
about our Labor Day Specials?
MR. WHITE
This is blasphemy! Witchcraft! You--
you--Dr. Frankenstein!
DR. SALAD
(on his soap box)
You think you can hurt me? You think I
haven't heard those slings and arrows
before? I am a "scientist," damn you!
And I am not the first of my profession
to be oppressed by the superstitious and
the unenlightened. What do you think
they told Galileo when...that coconut
fell on his head? Or when Thomas Edison
discovered cheese? When Einstein
discovered his theory of relatives.
Witch! Heretic! Blasphemer! But did
they not persevere? Did they not endure?
In this great nation of ours, at this the
dawn of a new scientific era, we not only
have the knowledge, but the freedom to
create a better world...a world of
perfection born in a test tube...a world
of demigods. And in this great nation of
ours, if we make a few "miscalculations
along the way, the sacrifice is worth it
for the greater good of mankind! GOD
BLESS AMERICA, LAND THAT I LOOOOOVE.
STAND BESIDE HER, AND GUIDE HER--
Nurse Slutt bursts in.
NURSE SLUTT
Dr. Salad!
DR. SALAD
Nurse Slutt?
NURSE SLUTT
The sedative has worn off!
DR. SALAD
Good God, man! Bring me the dart gun.
Increase the dosage by fifty cc's.
Dr. Salad 2 enters and runs to embrace his more comely twin.
DR. SALAD 2
Daddy!
MR. WHITE
My God! You circus freak show!
MRS. WHITE
John!
DR. SALAD
Don't you talk about my precious boy that
way...or I'll introduce you to his
brother!
Consoling Dr. Salad 2.
DR. SALAD (cont'd)
There, there. There, there, my good boy.
(to the Whites)
Perhaps you'd better leave. I don't
think we can help you here.
MR. WHITE
With pleasure.
MRS. WHITE
Thank you anyway--
MR. WHITE
Beatrice!
DR. SALAD
Nurse Slutt, show these people...the
door.
NURSE SLUTT
Doctor, no!
DR. SALAD
The door!
NURSE SLUTT
Not the door!
DR. SALAD
Show them...Nurse...show them...THE DOOR.
MRS. WHITE
We can see ourselves out...
NURSE SLUTT
Very well, Doctor.
Nurse Slutt and the Whites exit. Nurse Slutt seems anxious
about the door to come.
Dr. Salad takes Dr. Salad 2 into his arms.
DR. SALAD
There, there, my precious boy. It's not
your fault. You are not to blame. You
are...beautiful. You are a child of
questions and dreams and exploration. In
our travels in this great journey of
life, we will encounter the
unenlightened, the ignorant. But we must
be strong. We must educate. It is our
sworn duty to show them that science must
march on. Science...must...march on.
FADE OUT.