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The Very Mary-Kate team presents a look into the lives of a less-than-perfect pageant family.UnsSubscribe ToFrom Shorts
By Elaine Carroll & Sam Reich
INT. CONFESSIONAL PLUM My name is Plum. I'm six-year-old and I'm a beauty queen. INT. CAR - DAY Mama and Plum drive. PLUM (VO) My mama drives me around to pageants. MAMA (yelling out window) SUCK MY DICK! INT. CONFESSIONAL MAMA (CONT.) She's my precious plum. GRAPHIC: PRECIOUS PLUM INTRO EXT. CAR - DAY The car drives past camera. MAMA (VO) Today Plum's competin' to be Little Miss Tiny Tits in the parking lot of a Waffle House in Chunky, Mississippi. INT. CONFESSIONAL MAMA (CONT.) We got a fifty-two hour drive ahead of us, so, I mean, fuck. INT. CAR - DAY MAMA Get in your car seat! PLUM No! MAMA Get in your car seat young lady! PLUM No, it's covered in tics! MAMA (looking) Oh my lord. An insert reveals lots of tiny tics crawling on the car seat. MAMA (VO) Plum shit in the car seat yesterday, so I put in out in a field to air wash, and low and behold, fuckin' tics. INT. CONFESSIONAL MAMA But we didn't have time to do anything about it, so, she's just gonna get tics. INT. CAR - DAY Plum picks a tic off of herself and tastes the spot where it left. PLUM My blood taste like monkey bars. MAMA My legs is crampin' somethin' fierce. Precious? Precious, baby, take the wheel. Plum stares at her blankly. MAMA Take the wheel, honey. I'm gonna stick my melon out the moon roof and stretch my yams. Plum takes the wheel while Mama stretches out through the sunroof. MAMA (out the top) UGH. That's good. No swervin', honey. PLUM No swervin'. MAMA No servin', baby. Straight as the gays ain't. PLUM No swervin', no swervin', no swervin'... MAMA SWERVE, PRECIOUS, SWERVE! PLUM YOU... SAID... NO...! INT. CONFESSIONAL PLUM I made a dog dead. EXT. CAR - DAY Mama and Plum stand over a bloody mess of a Saint Bernard. MAMA Ah. That's a messy deady doggy. Over the VO, we see Mama rolling the dog over and dragging it into the car. MAMA (VO) It was a big honkin' dog, too. Like a Beethovan? So... we couldn't just leave it there, out on the street, where people gone see what we done, so we took it with. INT. CAR - DAY Plum is in the backseat, the dead dog over her, barely peering out over it. PLUM (muffled) Mama, I can't breath over it! MAMA You got a nose, don't you? PLUM I don't wanna smell it though! MAMA You gotta smell it! PLUM I don't wanna! MAMA You done hit the dog, you made it dead, now you smell the dead dog. You smell the god damn dog you gone did deaden. That's what's called responsible. Plum cries. MAMA You smellin' it? PLUM No! MAMA If you don't smell that dog, Plum, I swear to God, I will hit another dog and pile it on top, do you understand me? I will murder a second dog and pile it on top of the first murdered dog. Beat. MAMA You smellin' it? PLUM Yeah. MAMA How's it smell? PLUM Bad. MAMA That's right. EXT. PARKING LOT - EVENING MAMA So, we made it to the pageant, and Plum didn't place, so, she's a little bummed, but, every black cloud has a little white neighborhood. Zoom out to reveal Plum, after the pageant, covered from head to toe in dog blood. PLUM (excited, to camera) The tics picked the dog! MAMA (to camera) So no more tics! They're all on the dog now. (to Plum) Come on, honey, let's air wash you. They wander toward a field. END.