THAT. IS. AN EXCELLENT. IDEA.
Dibs on the Waynes:
Int. Day. It’s late afternoon in Gotham. The sunlight is streaming through the windows of THOMAS WAYNE’S Study in Wayne Manor. He’s at his desk. His head is in his hands. Also in the room: YOUNG BRUCE WAYNE, who’s very upset
YOUNG BRUCE WAYNE: I wanna go watch the Mask of Zorro!
THOMAS WAYNE: Ok, Bruce. We’ll go watch it tomorrow ok?
YOUNG BRUCE WAYNE: NO! I wanna go watch the Mask of Zorro now!!
THOMAS WAYNE: Bruce. Daddy’s busy right now with this cure for cancer. We can go tomor…
YOUNG BRUCE WAYNE: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! (throws himself to the ground and starts banging his head on the floor. Sceaming) I wanna go watch the Mask of Zorro now!! I wanna go watch the Mask of Zorro now!! I WANNA GO WATCH MASK OF ZORRO NOW!!
MARTHA WAYNE (leaning against the doorframe to the study; she’s got a whiskey flask in her hand; she’s dishevelled and clearly stoned): Jesus. What did you do to set him off this time? I was nearly asleep.
THOMAS WAYNE: Shut up. It’s not like you’ll run out Valium. I brought home two crates yesterday.
(BRUCE is still screaming)
MARTHA WAYNE: Let’s just take the little bastard to watch his damned film.
THOMAS WAYNE: Fine. We’re just going to cave into giving the little shit his way, yet again?
MARTHA WAYNE: Well, if someone was man enough to discipline him, we wouldn’t have this problem. Oh wait…you’d actually have to be home to do that.
THOMAS WAYNE: Be home? You mean like you are supposed to be…instead of getting sloshed at the tennis club before 11 am every day?
MARTHA WAYNE: It’s that or stay home with this little prick, who I might remind you, I didn’t want to keep. You could have dealt with it and we’d both still be free but no…you had to get all hippocratic oath on me. Hypocritical oath more like.
THOMAS WAYNE: OK! OK! Jesus. Right. We’ll take the little shit to see his shitty little movie.
(To BRUCE) OK. We’ll go. We’ll go today. OK?
YOUNG BRUCE WAYNE: ( no longer throwing a tantrum ) OK! (Skips out of the room, bumping his mother on the way).
MARTHA WAYNE: A handjob. You couldn’t have settled for a handjob.
THOMAS WAYNE: Oh shut up. Pass me a hit off that whiskey, will you? I’m not doing this sober. (Takes a huge swig off the flask). I swear that little prick is going to be the death of me.