(As the curtain rises, we see the living room of a typical suburban American family. George and Marge are seated on the sofa across from their son, Webber. He reclines in a comfortable recliner allowing him to make eye contact with the ceiling. A coffee table with silver candlesticks separates him from his parents. The cat you would expect Webber to have on his lap is not present due to insurance requirements.)

WEBBER: IT’S NOT FAIR.

MARGE: OH, WEBBER…

GEORGE: WE’VE MADE UP OUR MINDS.

MARGE: IT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE NOT OUR LITTLE HASHTAG…

GEORGE: IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU BECAME A MAN.

MARGE: MY LITTLE BOY…A MAN…(She sobs).

GEORGE: DID YOU EVER SNAKE A DRAIN WITH A WIRE COAT HANGER, WEBBER? DID YOU? HUH?

MARGE: MY HASHTAG WITH A COAT HANGER…(More sobbing).

GEORGE: WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE, I’D ALREADY RIPPED A BATHROOM SINK OFF THE WALL WITH A MONKEY WRENCH.

MARGE: WEBBER, DEAR, YOU KNOW YOU HAVEN’T STOPPED TALKING ABOUT COLLEGE SINCE YOU GRADUATED.

GEORGE: WHAT’S THAT BEEN? TWELVE YEARS NOW?

WEBBER: SIX.

GEORGE: WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING IN YOUR ROOM ALL THAT TIME?

WEBBER: EVALUATING MY OPTIONS.

MARGE: YOU SAID YOU HAD SO MUCH FUN IN THE DORM…

WEBBER: IT WAS MOSTLY FOMO.

MARGE: …YOU WERE SO HAPPY ABOUT NEVER RUNNING OUT OF TOILET PAPER.

(Webber sits up and stares at Marge.)

WEBBER: I RAN OUT ONCE.

MARGE: BUT NOT AFTER I CALLED THE PROVOST.

GEORGE: YOU DID?

MARGE: ANYTHING FOR MY LITTLE HASHTAG.

WEBBER: I’M A SNOWFLAKE.

(Their eyes meet. For a pregnant moment there is the possibility of a kiss. The moment passes.)

MARGE: WELL THIS IS GOING TO BE JUST LIKE LIVING IN A DORM. THERE ARE TWO GIRLS DOWN THE HALL, AND THEY SAID THEY’D DO ALL THE COOKING. ONE OF THEM IS ETHOPIAN. SHE’S GOING TO MAKE AUTHENTIC NATIVE FOOD.

WEBBER: I CAN’T EVEN STAND THE THOUGHT OF IT.

GEORGE: SNAKE A FEW DRAINS, WEBBER. GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES WITH YOUR FACE IN A TOILET. THEN YOU CAN STAND ANYTHING.

MARGE: YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT, DEAR. IF ANYTHING GOES WRONG, I’LL JUST CALL…

GEORGE: THAT’S ENOUGH, MARGE. THE BOY HAS TO STAND ON HIS OWN TWO FEET.

(Webber reclines at the thought of standing up.)

GEORGE: SEE WHAT I MEAN?

MARGE: THEY HAVE YOGA AND BOOK CLUBS. THERE ARE CLASSES ON HOW TO START A BUSINESS. AND ON WEDNESDAYS, EVERYONE GETS TOGETHER AND GOES TO THE MOVIES…

WEBBER: WE GO TO THE MOVIES.

MARGE: OH WEBBER, THE WAY YOU TALKED ABOUT RUNNING THROUGH THE HALLS IN YOUR UNDERWEAR AND STAYING UP TILL ALL HOURS DRINKING COFFEE AND EATING PASTRAMI SANDWICHES.

(She sighs.)

GEORGE: LISTEN UP, WEBBER. WE’RE PACKING THE CAR FIRST THING IN THE MORNING.

MARGE: YOU’LL DRIVE US TO BROOKLYN, WON’T YOU DEAR?

(Webber leaps out of his recliner and storms out of the room. This is why there is no cat in the scene. It would have flown forward and been impaled on the candlesticks.)

MARGE: OH, GEORGE…WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN TO OUR LITTLE…?

GEORGE (Interrupting): HE’LL BE IN HIS ROOM. HE WON’T EVEN NOTICE WE’VE RENTED THE HOUSE.

MARGE (Calling after Webber): WE’LL BRING OUR LAUNDRY HOME ON WEEKENDS.

(Curtain)