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ACT I: A Child is Born

The setting is a hospital room. A woman is in labor. The doctor, an older man is by her side, trying to help her through the procedure. 

Doctor: You have to keep pushing, Mrs. Hendelson! It is the only way this child will come out. Push God Dammit! 

Mrs. Hendelson: Can’t you see I’m trying? I keep pushing, and pushing and nothing is working! 

Doctor: I know you’re trying, Mrs. Hendelson. I know it can be hard. I have a story to tell you. I was once a young man, probably the same age you are now. It was a simpler time. The air was fresher. My face was glowing. I was excited to grow up and pursue my dreams. I wanted to be an exotic dancer. This was something I tried to keep a secret. I was not proud of my dreams. But they were my dreams, and I realized I had to own them if I ever wanted to accomplish them. So I started telling everybody. It affected my social life, my love life. My family life. My parents were, of course, mortified by the resolution. “You’re halfway through medical school, Jim. You’re going to throw your life away to become a minimum-wage gigolo at some sleezeball club? You’re not the son I thought you were,” they’d say. I didn’t care, though. I worked for it, and worked for it. I spent many nights at clubs, silent studying the ways of the male stripper. Slowly, but surely, I was getting my footing. I was getting the experience I needed. One day, I went up to the owner of this particular club called Woodrow Woodson’s and said I wanted to audition. He laughed at first. He looked me up and down and said I didn’t have what it takes. I begged, pleaded. I needed this opportunity. Did it take months of learning? Sure. Did it take a few alleyway encounters with some men? Sure. But I got there. And I was ready for it. Do you know what happened to me that night, Mrs. Hendelson?

Mrs. Hendelson continues pushing, seemingly ignoring his story.

Doctor (cont.): I didn’t get the job. I made a fool of myself in front of this poor club owner, and now I’m the one who isn’t allowed to go within 500 feet of that particular establishment. But you know what? That is all over with. That was many years ago. Fuck those guys anyway. The little... the little bitch wouldn’t even give me a chance. I was born to work there! 

Mrs Hendelson: If you think its so easy... why don’t you just push for me?

Doctor: Oh, if you say so. 

The doctor goes up to the woman and “pushes” until the baby comes out.  

The baby begins crying.

Doctor: Oh look, it is a beautiful baby girl.

Mrs. Hendelson: I think its a boy, actually.

Doctor: Yes, that’s what I said.

The doctors hand the child to the mother. She holds him, crying tears of joy.

Doctor (holding birth certificate): What would you like to name him, Mrs Hendelson?  

Mrs. H: I’d like to name him Martin, after his father who unfortunately passed away last year. 

Doctor: Fartin? That’s pretty messed up, Mrs. Hendelson. Here you go, though.

He hands her a birth certificate that reads “Fartin Hendelson/Born Februrary 15, 1997.”  Mrs. Hendelson’s tears turn to tears of sadness and desperation. 

Act II: Fartin at 8 Years Old

Mrs. H: How was your first day of school today, honey?

F: How do you think it was, mom? I

Mrs. H: That bad, huh?

F: I wish I was dead! Or that you’d change my name! 

Mrs. H: Hey, don’t talk like that! You’re named almost in honor of your father, little F. Never forget that. Your dad was a great, powerful man. He lived life to the fullest, and you will too. Sure, your names are a letter apart, but that isn’t important. What is important is that you carry Martin Hendelson’s legacy, and you make him proud.

F: Why can’t you just change my name to Martin, though Mom?

Mrs. H: Unfortunately, that is impossible. Once you have a name, you are stuck with it for life. 

F: Ok... Mom, can I ask one more thing? 

Mrs. H: Yes, honey? 

F: What did daddy do for a living?

Mrs. H: He was one of the men who founded the website Google.com. He was a very smart man, very ahead of his time.

ACT III: Fartin at Age 13

(At school)

Bully 1: Hey Shittin’, what are you doing this weekend? 

Fartin (Wearing Google t-shirt): Nothing much, Micky. Probably reading.

Bully 1: Oh yeah? My pap and I are racing in the big Father-Son crawlathon in San Fran. I wanted to know if you wanted to come along, and maybe be a part of the team? 

Fartin (Smiling): I’d really like that.

Bully 1: heh. Too bad. See ya, shitbrain.

Fartin runs home crying. He jumps into bed and buries his head in his pillow. He looks up and sees a Google poster. He smiles.

ACT IV: He Discovers the Film

Fartin is in a movie theater. The preview for The Internship plays. Fartin stares in awe. 

After the movie, he returns home and his mom greets him in the kitchen.

Mrs H: How was Train Wars?

F: It was great, Mom. Really, really great.

Mrs. H: You seem awfully excited, little guy. You’re not getting excited about another movie trailer are you?

F: Mom, they’re making a movie about Google! Vince Vaughn is in it, Owen Wilson is in it and I need to see it! Fist me, mom! Let me fist you, mom!

Mrs. H. is mortified.

F: Its a line in the movie! I’m so excited. Can we go to the premiere? Its all I ever wanted and I’m jumping for joy! Dad finally made it. His dream is alive.

Mrs. H: Ok, you little baked potato. Only if you finish your dinner though!

Act V: The Premiere

Mrs. H and Fartin are standing behind velvet ropes, looking at all the people in tuxedos getting out of limos. 

Mrs H: Oh wow, look! Its Eric Bana!

F: Mom, look! Wilmer Valderama! Oh wow. This is like a dreamland. Pinch me, for I must be on Cloud 9. Ahhhh.

Mrs H (In shock) hits Fartin on the arm: Look. Its...its... its... 

F: Vince Vaughn.

Vince Vaugh steps out of his limo. He is hulking, muscular. He looks sleepy, like he may have had a few beers before the premiere. 

F: I need to meet him. 

Fartin jumps over the rope and starts running toward Vince.

Mrs. H: No, don’t! 

F: Mr. Vaugh! Mr. Vaughn! 

The security take out pistols and start shooting Fartin in the back. He collapses to the ground. Vince Vaughn runs up to him.

Vince: Hey, are you ok little guy? You really shouldn’t run up to me like that! My security is very vigilant. They’re not afraid to kill a kid.

F: Am I going to be alright Mr. Vaughn?

Vince: I’m sorry, Kid. I don’t think so. My guys are the best. They shoot to kill. They’re fucking animals. 

F: I guess that’s life... Fickle.  Hey Mr. Vaughn? Can you sign my shirt for me? 

Vince: Sure, kid. Its the least I can do. Who do I make it out to?

F: To Fartin. 

Vince: Fartin? What is this some sort of a sick joke?

F: No, I’m afraid not.

Vince: Your parents must be fucked up, Kid. You’d gotta be sick to name a kid that.

F: The doctor misheard my mom when filling out the birth certificate.

Vince: Why didn’t she just change it afterwards?

F: Its not possible.

Vince: Sure it is. Its really fucking easy. I see Hollywood types do it all the time. Your mom’s just a lazy sack of shit.

Fartin starts gasping in pain.

Vince: Hey uhh Look kid. It doesn’t look like you have much time left. Do you have anything you want to say before you croak?  

Fartin: I just want...

Vince: Yeah?

Fartin: I just want....

Vince: Yeah? Spit it out, you little shit.

Fartin: I want everybody to go see The Internship, in theaters June 7. 

Fartin sighs and goes limp.