An eight-year-old boy and his mother in their kitchen. The mother is cleaning a fish with a large knife, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and just underwear, no pants. Also Timberland workboots.
Boy: Mama, can I ask you something?
Mama: Fish. We're having fish.
Boy: What?
Mama: It's a damn fish.
Boy: Not that.
Mama: What?
Boy: Do you like my pets?
Mama: Which one?
Boy: Like, David the mole?
Mama: He's ok. We're having fish tonight.
Boy: I like David, too. How about Rod?
Mama: Rod the monkey?
Boy: Ma-ma! Of course Rod the monkey! What other Rod is there?
Mama: I like him real good. Why all the questions? You hungry for fish?
Boy: I can't get no one to come over here. Seems like maybe the other kids don't like my animals.
Mama: Them albino animals? Well, those kids can just get back on their high horses. Those creatures are beautiful. All of 'em.
Boy: Mama?
Mama: [exasperated] What now?
Boy: The house stinks like fish. Maybe that's why the other kids don't come over.
Mama: [pointing cleaning knife at him] I'll cut their smellers right off.
Boy: But mama--then they'll wanna come over even less.
Mama: If they can't eat fish, I can't abide them.
Boy: Mama, I ain't got no friends!
Mama: Huh! You wanna talk friends? This fish probably had friends. Did him a lot of good. There I am hacking him up with a knife, then we're gonna eat him. What good did his friends do him?
Boy: Yeah....I guess you're right, mama.
Mama: You're damn straight I'm right. [Holds out knife toward him] You wanna clean?
Boy: Sure, thanks, mama.
