INT. LIVING ROOM, COLONIAL HOUSE

Donning clothes that are way too young for her, Emily paces the floor, anxious. Becky loafs on a sofa, hammered, drinking red wine out of an Ocean Spray bottle. Mia scrolls through Tinder. Dottie holds a stack of index cards with words scrawled on them, quizzing Emily.

DOTTIE: ‘Cap.’
EMILY: Like a baseball cap?

Becky makes a buzzer sound- EHHH!

MIA: Lie. It means to lie.

Her Tinder profile shows her age as 29.

BECKY: That tracks.
DOTTIE: ‘Snack.’
BECKY: Dude, I know you wanna say Doritos.
MIA: Someone hot. Like this guy.

Swipes right on a profile.

DOTTIE: Okay, enough, smarty pants.
BECKY: Too bad they have a degree in ‘Stupid Shit Gen Z Says.’
DOTTIE: ‘Cheugy.’

Emily and Becky glance at one another, clueless. Mia knows but holds her tongue.

EMILY: … That thing from Star Wars?
DOTTIE: Chewbacca?

Becky makes guttural sounds, a dead-on Chewy. Mia and Dottie bust a gut. Emily does, too, realizing how silly this all is.

DOTTIE: ‘Out of date. Not trendy.’

Mia recoils. The others reflect on this, suddenly somber.

BECKY: That definitely tracks.

Just then, three college girls approach the house…

Game faces. Dottie straightens her blouse. Becky checks her breath- ugh. Mia keeps swiping. Emily takes a deep breath and strides toward the door… swings it open, smiling broadly.

EMILY: Welcome to pi-

A freshman kid darts up and fires a water gun in her face while the girls hurl toilet paper at the oak tree in the front yard. They all flee the scene, cackling…

Emily wipes ‘water’ off her face, grimacing.

BECKY: Oh, shit. That’s piss, isn’t it?
EMILY: No cap.
DOTTIE (claps): Yay! You got one right.

Emily shoots her a look.