It's been months since somebody produced an uncompromising drama that rips the lid off of suburban family life. If somebody doesn't put car-ports and soccer moms in their place right now nobody will for at least a week or two. So, to tide you over I've decided to show you an excerpt from my gritty, unflinching yet strangely unproduced screenplay, "At Home with the Martins."

After finding out that their oldest son has shoulder length hair, Eli and Julie Martin visit a mutual friend, Alva Vandervox, at the high school where he works as principal. As Alva cleans up after a particularly violent student demonstration, Julie and Eli enter...

Eli: We did everything in the world for those kids. We gave them ballet lessons, piano lessons, fruity acting workshops. Sure, sometimes we'd miss their recitals or plays but we always had a good reason.

Julie: We were drunk.

Eli: That's right! Drunk! Usually off Listerine. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that we bought them shoes! Good sturdy shoes! We gave them...

Alva: Love?

Eli: Love? Well, we tried that for awhile. But y'know, we have very busy jobs. We're not machines.

Alva: I know, I know. (He approaches Julie) Oh excuse me Julie, would you like to sit down?

Julie: Oh no I'm fine.

Alva: (He gets much too close to Julie) Would you like some coffee?(He strokes her face)

Julie: (confused and slightly appalled) Yes, please, just black.

Alva: (He runs his fingers through her hair) Do you have a dime? (He massages her shoulders and then gently cups her breasts. A shocked Julie backs away as she hands him a dime) Y'know those damn kids destroyed the entire school tonight. Well almost the entire school. They didn't destroy the coffee machine. I really don't know why. Even I agree that the coffee machine is a bourgeois plot. I hate that coffee machine. Everyday some moron puts a dime in its filthy mouth just to watch it empty its fetid java filled bowels into a flimsy styrofoam cup. The coffee machine is laughing at all of us. Laughing at our stained teeth and burnt mouths just waiting for the right moment to attack. I hate you coffee machine. Did you hear me? I said I fucking hate you coffee machine. (A beat) Oh why won't you love me coffee machine? (Alva leaps on top of the machine and proceeds to brutally hump it)

Julie: Um...Wow...We really have to be going.