Madeline: Thanks for helping me drop those clothes off at Goodwill, Tim. I would never have been able to carry them myself.
Tim: Hey, that’s what sons-in-law are for.
Madeline: Oh, you’re such a good boy. We should pick up lunch to bring back to the house, you two must be hungry.
Tim: I could eat. Subway?
Madeline: Oh, I don’t know these new shops. Whatever you and Kate like.
(Pull into Subway; enter store)
Sandwich Artist: Can I take your order?
Tim: Hi, can we get…
Madeline: Now, now, let me get this.
Tim: Okay, thanks mom. But should I order at least?
Madeline: Please. You’ve done enough today already.
Tim: You sure? I come here all the time.
Madeline: (shooing Tim away) Sit, sit, I’ve got this.
Tim: (puts up hands in mock surrender) Alright, you win. (sits down at table, starts flipping through paper)
Sandwich Artist: What would you like, ma’am?
Madeline: Hmm. What do people usually get here? Sandwiches?
Tim: (arches eyebrow)
Sandwich Artist: Yes ma’am.
Madeline: Okay. And do they come in different sizes?
Sandwich Artist: You can get a six inch sub or a twelve inch sub.
(A large truck driver enters store and gets in line)
Madeline: Tim? Do you want a six inch sandwich or a twelve inch sandwich?
Tim: Twelve, please.
Madeline: And Kate?
Tim: She’ll probably only want a six.
Madeline: Okay, I’ll have one twelve inch sandwich, one six inch sandwich, and…I guess I should get a six inch sandwich, too.
Sandwich Artist: Okay. What kind of bread?
Madeline: What kinds do you have?
Tim: Oh Jesus.
Sandwich Artist: We’ve got them listed right there in front of you.
Madeline: (stares intently at bread display) Hmm.
(A teenage couple enters store and gets in line)
Madeline: Tim, what kind of bread do you want?
Tim: Wheat, please. Same for Kate.
Madeline: (smiles at Sandwich Artist) Three wheats, dear.
Sandwich Artist: You got it. Do you want those toasted?
Madeline: Toasted? You can do that?
Sandwich Artist: We certainly can.
Madeline: Tim, do you…
Tim: No! Kate neither!
Madeline: I think we’ll…
Sandwich Artist: (smiling patiently) I heard him. Now, what kind of subs would you like?
Madeline: There’s more than one?
Truck driver: (looks at watch)
Tim: (hops up from seat) Listen, mom, why don’t you let me order? You can still pay…
Madeline: No, no, I insist. Besides, I’m enjoying this. I’m learning.
Tim: Okay, just get Kate and I BLTs with mayo then.
Madeline: (to Sandwich Artist) Do you have those?
Sandwich Artist: We do. And what can I get for you?
Madeline: (smiles blankly)
Sandwich Artist: Our menu is right up here.
Madeline: Oh my. So many choices. What would you recommend?
(A dad walks in with four kids dressed in soccer uniforms; they get in line)
Sandwich Artist: How about a meatball sub?
Madeline: Oh, heavens no. All that salt? What do you have that doesn’t have much salt in it?
Sandwich Artist: Not much. Veggie, probably.
Madeline: I’ll have one of those.
Truck driver: (begins tapping feet impatiently)
Sandwich Artist: Which vegetables?
Tim: (under breath) Just say ‘all’, just say ‘all’…
Madeline: (points at counter) These are them here?
Sandwich Artist: Yes ma’am.
Madeline: Oh jeez, here we go. Lettuce?
Sandwich Artist: Okay.
Sandwich Artist: Mm-hmm.
Sandwich Artist: Nope.
Madeline: Onions then?
Sandwich Artist: You got it.
Madeline: Few more onions, please.
Sandwich Artist: (adds more)
Madeline: Just a touch more.
Sandwich Artist: (adds a touch more)
Sandwich Artist: Anything else for you?
Truck driver: You got anyone else working back there, bud?
Madeline: (turns to truck driver sweetly) Oh, I’m sorry dear. Would you like to go first?
Truck driver: (suddenly sheepish) N-no, ma’am. You go ahead.
Madeline: Are you sure? I’m in no hurry.
Truck driver: (gestures to counter) That’s alright. I insist.
Sandwich Artist: Anything else?
Madeline: Let’s see. Green peppers. Olives. And…a few pickles.
Sandwich Artist: That it?
Madeline: I guess so.
Sandwich Artist: Any dressi…
Tim: SHE’LL HAVE ITALIAN!
Sandwich Artist: Okay.
Madeline: (proudly, to Tim) That wasn’t so hard. (to Sandwich Artist) How much do I owe you, dear?
Sandwich Artist: That’ll be…$16.58.
Madeline: (holding five dollar bill in hand) What’s that now?
Sandwich Artist: $16.58?
Madeline: You have got to be shitting me.
Sandwich Artist: (taken aback) M-ma’am?
Madeline: Twenty bucks? For three submarine sandwiches? Is that some kind of fucking joke?
Tim: Now, mom, calm down…
Sandwich Artist: I…I don’t set the prices, ma’am.
Madeline: I should bloody well hope not! This is an outrage. Here. (slaps $20 bill on counter angrily) I want my change.
Sandwich Artist: Of course. (hands over change) Here you are. I’m sorry if we’ve upset you.
Madeline: You can shove your sorrys up your ass, hairnet.
Tim: Whadda you say we get out of here, huh? (starts leading Madeline out of store)
Madeline: (passing by soccer dad) Your children are ugly.
(Leave store, walk towards car)
Madeline: Can you believe the nerve of those dicklickers? Charging prices like that?
Tim: That’s actually pretty standard these days, mom.
Madeline: Oh, what do you know? I can make these same things for less than two dollars at home. That place will be out of business in a week.
Tim: (chuckles) Well, they have something like 30,000 franchises, mom, so I doubt that…
Madeline: (glares menacingly at Tim)
Tim: …that they can keep going at prices like that. You’re right, they’re a flash in the pan.
Madeline: (rubbing temples) You drive. I got the DTs something fierce.
Tim: Sure thing. Should we pick up some coffees, too?
Madeline: (stares at Tim in disgust)
Tim: (confused, lowers head)
Madeline: These sandwiches smell like shit.