I need a script. i am in a film class and i need a three page script (school appropriate) by Sunday night. it can be on literally anything. thanks so much

FADE IN:

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Pencil and calculator in hands, PAMELA (mid 40s with tired

eyes and messy hair) sits scribbling away at the table in the

center of the small kitchen. A clutter of paper and torn

envelopes covers it. FOOTSTEPS approach.

PAMELA

(without looking up)

Grab a calculator Jack. How much

did it go for?

JACK (late teens, gangly) bounds around the table and hugs

Pamela from behind.

PAMELA (CONT'D)

That good, huh?

JACK

Better than good, mother, I scored

the deal of a lifetime!

PAMELA

Well...?

JACK

Well at first I couldn't even get a

single person to even look at it.

After all, it is a twelve year old

car.

Jack strolls over to the refrigerator, hand on its door, his

eyes searches its sparse contents, finally settling on a

bottle of water. He grabs the water and slams the door shut.

JACK (CONT'D)

But then a guy, some weird looking

guy, but then who cares right?

(guffaws)

Offered me a beampod for the car! A

beampod, Ma!

PAMELA

(confused, smile fading)

A what?

Jack reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gleaming

metallic ball the size of a marble. He stretches his arm out

with the ball at the center of his palm. A mask of

realization washes over Pamela's face.

JACK

It's amazing! It is a time

transporter--

PAMELA

(interrupting,

hysterically)

What did you do with the car

Jackson?

Jack blinks in stunned silence at his mother.

JACK

It... it... will help--

PAMELA

You gave away our single source of

money for a- a- ?

Shaking, Pamela grips the edge of the table and takes a deep

breath.

PAMELA (CONT'D)

What will happen to these?

She nods towards the table's contents.

JACK

(ignoring the table)

You've got to trust me mom. This is

a good thing!

Pamela pushes her chair back, leans forward over the table,

palms supporting her body. She looks Jack squarely in the

eyes.

PAMELA

Trust, Jack?

JACK

Mom, seriously, the previous owner

is from another time...

(pensive, almost

whispering)

He must have been!

(louder, self-assured)

Mom look at it! Have you everJack holds out his hand for an inspection. Pamela sighs and

pushes past him, smacking the object out of his hand against

the wall.

2.

PAMELA

I'm going to bed.

Jack stares at his mother's back as she leaves the room. The

beampod still on the floor against the wall behind him starts

to crack, exposing bits of lightbeams.

FADE OUT.

you should do some thing about u favorite childhood memories and put them into a play

Explanation:

right of the table i believe