Juno Page #6

JUNO:

Really? Fingernails?

She considers the concept, then pushes open the clinic door.

INT. WOMEN'S CHOICE CLINIC - RECEPTION - DAY

The receptionist sits behind a pane of bulletproof glass.

The waiting room is semi-crowded, occupied mostly by pregnant

women, teens and ill-behaved children.

PUNK RECEPTIONIST

Welcome to Women's Choice, where

women are trusted friends. Please

put your hands where I can see them

and surrender any bombs.

Juno flashes her best jazz hands.

JUNO:

Hi. I'm here for the big show?

PUNK RECEPTIONIST

Your name, please?

JUNO:

Juno MacGuff.

The receptionist raises a pierced eyebrow and arranges some

paperwork on a clipboard.

JUNO (V.O.)

She thinks I'm using a fake name.

Like Gene Simmons or Mother Teresa.

The receptionist hands Juno the clipboard and a pen.

PUNK RECEPTIONIST

I need you to fill these out, both

sides. And don't skip the hairy

details. We need to know about every

score and every sore.

The receptionist reaches into one of those ubiquitous women's

clinic CONDOM JARS, and holds up a fistful of purple rubbers.

PUNK RECEPTIONIST

Would you like some free condoms?

They're boysenberry.

JUNO:

No thank you. I'm off sex.

PUNK RECEPTIONIST

My partner uses these every time we

have intercourse. They make his balls

smell like pie.

JUNO:

Congrats.

She takes a seat in the WAITING ROOM and rifles through a

pile of old magazines. The magazine selection is lots of

"mommy mags" and health related periodicals. She selects an

issue of Family Digest and gingerly flips through for a few

moments.

Then she looks over and notices the FINGERNAILS of a nearby

teen, who looks as nervous as she does. The girl bites her

thumbnail and spits it onto the floor.

Juno looks away, but immediately notices another waiting

woman, who absently scratches her arm with long fake nails.

Suddenly, she sees fingernails EVERYWHERE. The receptionist

clicks her nails on the front desk. Another woman blows on

her fresh manicure. Everyone seems to be fidgeting with their

fingers somehow. Juno suddenly looks terror-stricken...

CUT TO:

PUNK RECEPTIONIST

Excuse me, Miss MacGoof?

There's no answer. We see that Juno's chair is EMPTY.

The receptionist cranes her neck and sees the front door

drift shut. Juno's figure recedes into the distance as she

tears off down the street, running as fast as she can.

EXT. LEAH'S HOUSE - DAY

Leah's front door swings open to reveal a breathless Juno

standing sheepishly on the porch. Leah sighs.

LEAH:

What are you doing here, dumbass? I

thought I was supposed to pick you

up at four.

JUNO:

I couldn't do it, Leah! It smelled

like a dentist in there. They had

these really horrible magazines,

with, like, spritz cookie recipes

and bad fiction and water stains,

like someone read them in the tub.

And the receptionist tried to give

me these weird condoms that looked

like grape suckers, and she told me

about her boyfriend's pie balls, and

Su-Chin Kuah was there, and she told

me the baby had fingernails.

Fingernails!

LEAH:

Oh, gruesome. I wonder if the baby's

claws could scratch your vag on the

way out?

JUNO:

I'm staying pregnant, Le.

LEAH:

Keep your voice down dude, my mom's

around here somewhere. She doesn't

know we're sexually active.

JUNO:

What does that even mean? Anyway, I

got to thinking on the way over. I

was thinking maybe I could give the

baby to somebody who actually likes

that kind of thing. You know, like a

woman with a bum ovary or something.

Or some nice lesbos.

LEAH:

But then you'll get huge. Your chest

is going to milktate. And you have

to tell everyone you're pregnant.

JUNO:

I know. Maybe they'll canonize me

for being so selfless.

LEAH:

Maybe they'll totally sh*t and be

super mad at you and not let you

graduate or go to Cabo San Lucas for

spring break.

JUNO:

Bleeker and I were going to go to

Gettysburg for spring break.

Leah sighs, as if there's no helping her nerdy friend.

LEAH:

Well, maybe you could look at one of

those adoption ads. I see them all

the time in the Penny Saver.

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