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BABY FACTORY

A Short Screenplay

By Stephen Bittrich

 

459 Columbus Avenue, #240
New York, NY 10024
Tel: (212) 579-3015
E-mail:
SBittrich@aol.com

 

Copyright © 1999,
by Stephen Bittrich
(Draft: October, 2000)


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                                   "BABY FACTORY"

                                 by Stephen Bittrich

            EXT. OUTSIDE DNA ALCHEMY OFFICES - DAY

            The DNA ALCHEMY corporate office looms behind a large,
            uninteresting sign which reads:  "DNA ALCHEMY.  CREATING
            FAMILIES SINCE 2004."

            INT. DR. SALAD'S OFFICE - DAY

            DR. SALAD, early 40's and wearing a spotless white lab coat
            sits behind his desk.  His bubbly energy infects MR. and MRS.
            WHITE, 30's, sitting primly on the opposite side of the desk.

                                DR. SALAD
                      So Mr. and Mrs. White, you're interested
                      in a baby!

                                MR. WHITE
                      Yes, Doctor Salad.

                                MRS. WHITE
                      It's about all we can think about!

                                DR. SALAD
                      I completely understand, Mrs. White.  So
                      many of our clients love babies, want
                      babies, can only think about babies, if
                      you catch my meaning.

                                MRS. WHITE
                      I don't think I do...

                                DR. SALAD
                      We have so many glum, droopy, infertile
                      couples come through these doors,
                      yearning for a little bundle of joy to
                      call their own.  They've given up hope
                      ever ever planting the seed of life, but
                      we pick them up, dust them off, and
                      through the miracle of science, a life is
                      created.

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Oh, it's so exciting!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Yes, isn't it?  So first order of
                      business, a small questionnaire.

            He slaps down a telephone book size questionnaire.  Mrs.
            White notices his rubber gloves.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      I find it best to work from general to
                      specific, don't you?

                                MR. WHITE
                      I suppose...

                                DR. SALAD
                      You would like a healthy baby?

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Yes, of course.  Doesn't everybody?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Usually, but I have to ask.  Some parents
                      find some minor genetic defect keeps the
                      child dependent upon them.  
                          (making quotation marks with
                           his fingers on the word
                           "healthy"--this is a character
                           trait that HE employs
                           throughout the play)
                      I'm not saying it's necessarily a
                      "healthy" way to go...

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Oh my!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Male or female?

                                MR. WHITE
                      We'd like a...

                                MRS. WHITE
                      ...a little girl!

                                MR. WHITE
                      Yes, a little girl...is that a general
                      question?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Oh, it gets much more specific. 
                      Beautiful or ugly?  Or somewhere in
                      between?

                                MR. WHITE
                      You can guarantee her looks?

                                DR. SALAD
                      To an extent yes.  We work with the what
                      you give us.  We filter elements of your
                      DNA.  We purify it to its essence. 
                      Have you ever noticed ugly people with a
                      beautiful baby?

                                MR. WHITE
                      Uh...I think...

                                DR. SALAD
                      Of course you have!  Even ugly people can
                      get lucky!  But we here at DNA Alchemy
                      take out the element of luck.  If you
                      want a beautiful baby, we find the DNA in
                      your own make up that will best make that
                      happen.  Of course, beauty is in the eye
                      of the beholder, but for Caucasians, such
                      as yourselves, we rely on the the Greek
                      models to inform our "beauty gage."  

                                MRS. WHITE
                      I...I want a beautiful baby...don't you,
                      Honey?

                                MR. WHITE
                      Yes, well, I'd say so, yes, let's.

                                DR. SALAD
                      Excellent!  A "babe" of a baby it is.  As
                      I'm sure you can imagine, that is the
                      most common response.  So female beauty
                      in the Greek model.  Now Mrs. White, I
                      notice that you're rather flat chested.

                                MR. WHITE
                      I say...!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Do you want some genetic enhancement for
                      your baby in that area?

                                MRS. WHITE
                      On a baby?  

                                DR. SALAD
                      Well, every good baby grows up!  And here
                      at DNA Alchemy we don't just reflect on
                      the infant life, but the whole life.  But
                      I digress.  Your chest just struck me for
                      a moment, but that is a more "specific"
                      issue, and we are on the general...
                      tall/short?

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Uh, tall?

                                MR. WHITE
                      Tall, yes, tall.  That's nice.

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Five ten.

                                MR. WHITE
                      Five ten?  Well, Honey, I'm sure they
                      can't...

                                DR. SALAD
                      Actually, we can.  Five ten it is. 
                      Endomorph, Ectomorph, or Morph-o-morph?

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Endo...what?

                                MR. WHITE
                      Oh that's the body type, right?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Yes.  Many people go with the ectomorph,
                      a more athletic type body type.

                                MR. WHITE
                      Oh yes, we want that!

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Really?  Athletic, Honey?  You don't want
                      her to be more...feminine?

                                MR. WHITE
                      She can be a famous athlete and support
                      us in our old age.

                                DR. SALAD
                      You know, and at this point in time,
                      that's probably still true!  Of course,
                      if our technology ever became the norm,
                      as is our hope, everybody could be an
                      equally superior athlete.  Ha ha! 
                      Fortunately for you, economics still rule
                      who can and can't afford this technology.  

            There is a knock at the door.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      Yes?

                                NURSE SLUTT (OS)
                      Dr. Salad, your tea.

                                DR. SALAD
                      Tea?  Already?  Oh, very well, but it's
                      quite vexing.

            NURSE SLUTT opens the door for DR. SALAD 2 who carries the
            tea tray.  She leaves, closing the door behind her.

            Dr. Salad 2 is an exact doppelganger for Dr. Salad, except
            Dr. Salad 2 is terribly deformed.  His genital area is of
            particular notice with its swollen appearance.  

            And to make matters even more distressing, Dr. Salad 2 seems
            not quite right in the head.  HE limps in with the tea tray
            threatening to let it crash at every step.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      COME IN, DR. SALAD!

                                MRS. WHITE
                      But...I thought you were Dr. Salad...oh
                      my!

                                DR. SALAD
                          (whispering)
                      Yes, yes, that's right.  I am Dr. Salad,
                      but he wants to be just like me, and it
                      doesn't do any harm to humor him, eh? 
                      He's a good goose. 
                          (shouting)
                      VERY GOOD, DR. SALAD!  JUST SET THAT DOWN
                      RIGHT HERE!
                          (normal voice, innocently)
                      Tea?

                                MR. WHITE
                      Oh, I don't think...

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Not for me...

                                DR. SALAD
                          (shouting)
                      THIS IS MY SON!
                          (aside, to the Whites)
                      Well, sort of.  He's a miracle of modern
                      science, don't you think?

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Yes, he...he's...

                                MR. WHITE
                      What?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Anybody can clone a sheep, eh?  Doesn't
                      he look just like me?  OKAY, DR. SALAD. 
                      THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!

                                DR. SALAD 2
                          (with a strong speech
                           impediment)
                      Sthing...sthing a sthong.

                                DR. SALAD
                      NO!  NOT TODAY!  TIME'S UP, DR. SALAD! 
                      I'VE GOT TO PLAN A BABY!

                                DR. SALAD 2
                      Sthing a sthong!  Sthing a sthong!

                                DR. SALAD
                      NOOOOO!  
                          (then instantly changing his
                           tune)
                      Oh, very well.  
                          (aside to the Whites)
                      He'll never let it go otherwise.  
                          (back to Dr. Salad 2)
                      WHAT SHALL WE SING?  HMMMM?  OH, I KNOW!

            He begins a little song and dance which are quite obviously
            made up completely off the top of this head.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      I got my top hat...
                      I got my cane...
                      And I'm all dressed up...
                      In a tuxedo...
                      Dancin', dancin', dancin'
                      Come on everybody...

            He taps for a bit.  It is obvious that this is completely
            made up as well, but further, that he hasn't the faintest
            idea how to tap dance.  

            Dr. Salad 2 follows along, choking up a giddy, bizarre
            chortle.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      OKAY, OKAY, THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!  LOTS OF
                      WORK TO DO!

            The door swings open urgently.

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      Dr. Salad?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Nurse Slutt!  I'm in a meeting!

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      Yes, I know Dr. Salad, but...

            She crosses quickly to him and whispers in his ear.

                                DR. SALAD
                      The deuce you say!  Where are his
                      restraints?

            She whispers again in his ear.  Dr. Salad looks concerned,
            looks over to the Whites, then puts on a fake smile.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      Excuse me for one moment, Mr. White, Mrs.
                      White.  Little family emergency.  Dr.
                      Salad, get them some tea, man!

                                DR. SALAD 2
                      Huh?

                                DR. SALAD
                      SOME TEA!  SOME TEA!

            Dr. Salad leaves with the nurse.

                                MRS. WHITE
                          (quietly, to the air)
                      But I don't want any tea.

            Dr. Salad 2, proud as punch, gives them a toothy grin, then
            begins to sing softly with a rasp, almost like the whole song
            is happening somewhere in the back of his throat

                                DR. SALAD 2
                      I gok ma topf hot...
                      I gok ma cayne...
                      I awe dresthed uuuup...

            There is a mournful HOWL in the outside corridor followed by
            a few blood curdling screams.

                                DR. SALAD 2 (cont'd)
                      Uh oh.  Bad.

            Dr. Salad enters, slightly flustered with a generous squirt
            of red liquid on his lab coat.

                                DR. SALAD
                      Yes, well, here I am, back again.  Sorry
                      about that.  
                          (loudly)
                      GOODBYE, DR. SALAD.  TOODLES.

                                DR. SALAD 2
                          (to the Whites)
                      Goo-bye.  I wuv you.

            Dr. Salad 2 leaves.

                                DR. SALAD
                      Oh, isn't he an absolute joy?  Want to
                      adopt him?  Ha!  So, where were we?  Ah
                      yes, a baby!  A little bundle of joy. 
                      What have we got so far...healthy--check,
                      female--check, human--check, beautiful,
                      tall, ectomorph--check, check, check, and
                      some outraaaageous knockers!!!

                                MR. WHITE
                      Now just a moment, what's all this about
                      "human"?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Sorry?

                                MR. WHITE
                      You said "human--check."  What does that
                      mean, exactly?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Well, my dear Mr. White, you do want a
                      "human" baby, don't you?

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Of course we do!

                                MR. WHITE
                      I'll handle this, dear.  Now see here,
                      Dr. Salad.  I don't know what sort of
                      place you're running here...

                                DR. SALAD
                      I mean I just assumed.  We can mix in
                      chimp DNA, or gorilla, for example.  It's
                      possible.  Still working on cow for the
                      Christmas rush...

                                MR. WHITE
                      A human!  A human!  A human! 

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Dear?

                                MR. WHITE
                      There's never been any question about
                      that!  What sort of freaks of nature are
                      you spawning in this Godforsaken factory?

                                DR. SALAD
                      Actually, nature has very little to do
                      with it, Mr. White. SCIENCE! 
                          (hit with an idea)
                      Ding!  That reminds me, I am required by
                      the sturgeon general to provide a
                      "warning label," if you will, for our
                      product.

            Dr. Salad goes over to a pull down chart on a stand and
            reveals a large poster, the first of several startling
            renderings of terribly deformed babies.  Mr. and Mrs. White
            gasp in horror.

                                MR. WHITE
                      Good God!

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Oh!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Our product comes with a ninety-nine
                      percent rate of full one hundred percent
                      pure satisfaction, but I am required by
                      law to inform you that there is a one
                      percent margin of error in every one
                      hundred cases, if we actually were to
                      test one hundred cases.

            Dr. Salad pulls down another grotesque baby picture.  Again
            the Whites gasp.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      What this means to you, the layman and
                      laywoman, pardon the double entendre, is
                      that this science is not a perfect one,
                      but pretty damn near close!  

            He pulls down the final picture of a deformed baby which
            looks to be a mixture of cow and baby.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      Ah yes, still working on that cow.

                                MR. WHITE
                      You, Doctor, are a madman!

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Let's just go, John.

                                DR. SALAD
                      Mr. White, Mrs. White.  Did I tell you
                      about our Labor Day Specials?

                                MR. WHITE
                      This is blasphemy!  Witchcraft!  You--
                      you--Dr. Frankenstein!

                                DR. SALAD
                          (on his soap box)
                      You think you can hurt me?  You think I
                      haven't heard those slings and arrows
                      before?  I am a "scientist," damn you! 
                      And I am not the first of my profession
                      to be oppressed by the superstitious and
                      the unenlightened.  What do you think
                      they told Galileo when...that coconut
                      fell on his head?  Or when Thomas Edison
                      discovered cheese?  When Einstein
                      discovered his theory of relatives. 
                      Witch!  Heretic! Blasphemer!  But did
                      they not persevere?  Did they not endure? 
                      In this great nation of ours, at this the
                      dawn of a new scientific era, we not only
                      have the knowledge, but the freedom to
                      create a better world...a world of
                      perfection born in a test tube...a world
                      of demigods.  And in this great nation of
                      ours, if we make a few "miscalculations
                      along the way, the sacrifice is worth it
                      for the greater good of mankind!  GOD
                      BLESS AMERICA, LAND THAT I LOOOOOVE. 
                      STAND BESIDE HER, AND GUIDE HER--

            Nurse Slutt bursts in.

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      Dr. Salad!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Nurse Slutt?

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      The sedative has worn off!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Good God, man!  Bring me the dart gun. 
                      Increase the dosage by fifty cc's.

            Dr. Salad 2 enters and runs to embrace his more comely twin.

                                DR. SALAD 2
                      Daddy!

                                MR. WHITE
                      My God!  You circus freak show!

                                MRS. WHITE
                      John!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Don't you talk about my precious boy that
                      way...or I'll introduce you to his
                      brother!  

            Consoling Dr. Salad 2.

                                DR. SALAD (cont'd)
                      There, there.  There, there, my good boy.
                          (to the Whites)
                      Perhaps you'd better leave.  I don't
                      think we can help you here.

                                MR. WHITE
                      With pleasure.

                                MRS. WHITE
                      Thank you anyway--

                                MR. WHITE
                      Beatrice!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Nurse Slutt, show these people...the
                      door.

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      Doctor, no!

                                DR. SALAD
                      The door!

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      Not the door!

                                DR. SALAD
                      Show them...Nurse...show them...THE DOOR.

                                MRS. WHITE
                      We can see ourselves out...

                                NURSE SLUTT
                      Very well, Doctor.

            Nurse Slutt and the Whites exit.  Nurse Slutt seems anxious
            about the door to come.

            Dr. Salad takes Dr. Salad 2 into his arms.

                                DR. SALAD
                      There, there, my precious boy.  It's not
                      your fault.  You are not to blame.  You
                      are...beautiful.  You are a child of
                      questions and dreams and exploration.  In
                      our travels in this great journey of
                      life, we will encounter the
                      unenlightened, the ignorant.  But we must
                      be strong.  We must educate.  It is our
                      sworn duty to show them that science must
                      march on.  Science...must...march on.

                                                               FADE OUT.

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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.