5.28.2006

Normal.

INT. - RESTAURANT FLORENT - MIDNIGHT

WAITRESS MISS MARISOL, 30, dark hair and smudgy eyeshadow. She wears black short shorts and a white mesh shirt that reveals a lacy bra with pink bows. Around her neck is a black studded collar purchased from a pet store and on her feet are 4 inch, red patent leather platform heels. Marisol stands before a table with six women in their mid-twenties. They all have sadly coiffed do's and carefully filed fingernails.

One woman, MISS INFORMED, grasps her menu and furrows her brow.

MISS INFORMED
I'll have a grilled cheese.

MARISOL
What kind of cheese would you like?

MISS INFORMED
What kind? Whatever's normal.

MARISOL
I guess that depends on what you find normal. What do you like?

MISS INFORMED
I don't know. I want what's normal. What do you normally put on a grilled cheese?

Miss Informed, clearly flustered, turns to her tablemates to urge their assistance.

MISS INFORMED
(CON'T)
What do they do at Denny's?

Marisol walks away from the table, grasping her sides and laughing uncontrollably. She regains composure slightly and returns to the table.

MARISOL
I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. (NOTE: SHE'S LYING.) It's just that, I don't
really consider Denny's normal.

MISS INFORMED
You don't?

MARISOL
Honey. Look at where I work. Look at what I'm wearing! My boss is a drag queen. . .

MISS INFORMED
I don't get it.

MARISOL
No one expects you to. Look. Life is hard, sweetie. But I know what kind of cheese I like.

SCENE.