Waitress
Waitress Script
Hon, you've put it off long enough.
What?
- You know what.
- You know what.
- Negative.
- Negative.
Come on, negative.
- Come on!
- Dear Lord, please protect ourJenna
from the hell of unwanted pregnancy.
I don't need no baby.
I don't want no trouble.
I just want to make pies.
That's all I want to do, make pies.
I thought you weren't sleeping
with your husband no more.
He got her drunk one night.
I do stupid things
when I drink,
like sleep with my husband.
Oh, no!
Looks like a pink line
is forming. Sh*t.
One line or two lines?
One line or two lines?
Two lines! The control line
and the other line,
- the bad line, the "yes" line.
- Let me see that now.
Two lines, two definite lines.
There's no mistaking them.
What's going on in there?
We have customers!
Where are my waitresses?
Hold your balls straight, Cal.
Jenna ain't feeling well.
What's wrong with her?
It's none of your business,
you blowhard.
I'm fine, Cal!
We'll be right out.
Hurry up!
Hon, you okay?
Shh. I'm inventing a new pie
in my head.
Tomorrow's blue plate special.
I'm calling it
"I Don't WantEarl's Baby Pie. "
I don't think we can write that
on the menu board, hon.
Then I'll just call it
"Bad Baby Pie. "
What's in it, honey?
(singing in hum) "Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle"
It's a quiche of egg and Brie cheese
with a smoked ham center.
Sounds good, baby.
away from Earl now.
You going to tell him?
I'm not sure.
If my plan comes true and I
can make my big escape from him
in a couple months,
maybe he never even has to know.
Are you sure it's his child?
You know everything I do.
I ain't never cheated.
- Ah...
- I'd never do that.
- Eh...
- I feel sorry for you, Jenna.
I mean, I'd do anything
to meet a man, and Becky's
husband is a senile fruitcake.
- Dawn!
- Well, I'm sorry, it's true.
But now here you are,
married to this handsome guy.
Who's got very good hair.
Who's got very good hair.
And pregnant with
a little girl.
How do you know it's a girl?
- We don't know it's a girl.
- But neither of us
would trade places with you for
one second.
Now would we, Becky?
No, we wouldn't, Dawn.
No, we wouldn't.
Except, just once in my life,
I'd like to be able to make
a pie half as good
as Jenna can make a pie.
- Yeah, me, too.
Oh, come on.
So what if I can make a decent pie?
- Who cares?
- Look at this, Jenna.
As you can plainly see,
my right boob is much higher
than my left boob
and Dawn here has
pasty, pasty skin.
I'm stuck in a marriage
to Droolin' Phil the Invalid,
and Dawn eats TV dinners alone,
but still, we wouldn't
rather be you.
I do have pasty, pasty skin.
Yeah, I know, you're here.
See you tomorrow, honey.
Good luck.
- And if you do tell him you're...
- Shh!
Hey.
Hey.
Hiya there, Earl.
We all just agreed that your hair
is super attractive.
Hooray for you.
- Woo-hoo!
- Woo-hoo!
I don't care if she is a pie genius.
I wouldn't trade places with her.
No, me neither.
You don't look happy to see me.
Are you happy to see me?
Yeah, I'm happy to see you.
Even brought you a piece
of today's special,
"Kick In The Pants Pie. "
(singing in hum) Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle
Cinnamon spice custard.
You don't give me a kiss.
Well, give me one.
There. That's more like it.
Where's that money
you made today?
Right here in my pocket.
Well, now, hand it over.
Not much here, is there?
Slow day, you know.
Yeah, you been having
more and more of those.
I'm really not sure it's worth
I think I might rather have you
be at home
making me pies all day long.
You didn't ask me
how my day was.
How was your day?
Ask me like you
care about it.
How was your day, Earl?
Well, you know,
Johnson's on my case again,
about the mortgages and everything.
But I don't make the bank policy,
and I told him that,
but he doesn't listen.
"I Hate My Husband Pie. "
(singing in hum) "Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle" You take bittersweet chocolate and don't sweeten it. You make it into a pudding and drown it in caramel.
You're not listening to me.
Yeah, I am.
What I say?
You were bitching about Mr. Johnson.
What were the exact words I said?
Well, I mean, I can't repeat
them verbatim...
You don't listen to me!
Hurts my feelings.
Please just say you're sorry
so I can let you out this car
so you can make my dinner.
I'm sorry, Earl,
for not being able
to repeat your words verbatim,
something I should be able to do.
Whenever I need it.
Whenever you need it.
All right, then.
You look handsome tonight, Early.
Thank you, honey.
It's been a long time since
you called me Early.
I like it.
And you look pretty tonight.
You're not eating
your spaghetti pie. Why not?
I'm thinking I want to borrow
some money from you.
And my answer to that,
of course, is no.
There's a big pie Bake-Off in
Jonesville in a couple months. And I'd like to go.
And my answer to that,
of course, is no.
Why do you need money? I give you everything
you need, don't I?
Absolutely.
You want for nothing, don't you?
Yes, Earl, I want for nothing.
I mean, your pies ain't bad. But what's so important about that
when you got me to take care of?
That's a good point, Earl.
Jenna Hunterson.
Hello, Mrs. Bunterson.
Hunterson.
Who are you?
I'm your doctor.
Oh, wow, you brought me a pie.
How nice.
You know what?
I've only been here a few weeks,
but already I am genuinely
impressed with the hospitality of this place.
You're not my doctor.
Lily Mueller is my doctor.
This pie is for her.
It's Marshmallow Mermaid,
her favorite.
Well, she's semiretired now.
Just sort of happened this morning.
She kind of quit.
We didn't have time to call anybody.
I mean, she's been my doctor forever.
I really liked and trusted her.
and trust me, too?
I've never even seen you before.
Yeah, I just got hired.
Long story, making it short,
this is still
Dr. Mueller's practice,
I'm the junior doctor on staff.
Um, just moved here from
Connecticut two weeks ago.
Dr. Mueller had a class
over the summer
and I was a student of hers,
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"Waitress" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/waitress_1406>.
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