Ashley, dinner’s ready!

I’m not hungry!

You’ll feel better if you eat something.

Palmer! Dinner!

Palmer said to tell you he lost his appetite.

I know you’re both upset, honey. Twins feel each other’s pain. But you have to eat. You need to keep up your strength.

For dying, right?

Ashley, please. I’m so sad and upset for you seniors. This is crushing.

I’m valedictorian of my class, Mom. Graduation‘s cancelled. What about my party? My trip to our shore house this summer with my friends?  

Palmer! I knew you’d come down when you smelled the chicken. It’s your favorite. With extra crispy tater tots!

Coach called and said golf season is off.

Your father told me this morning. He’s sick with disappointment.

I thought he was sick from guzzling a quarantini martini every hour on the hour now that he’s home all day.

Palmer!

There goes my scholarship.

You’re not making this any easier on me.

Take another pill.

Well, look who’s here. How’s your day going, Wynne?

Chicken again, Bethany?

You like chicken. Now everyone take a seat. Isn’t this nice? Having a meal together like when you children were small?

Ashley’s hogging all the white meat. Dad took both legs. Why can’t I have white meat like little Miss Valedictorian.

Those skinny legs of yours look like golf clubs, Palmer. No meat on those birdbrain bones.

Your anorexic face looks like a deflated enema bag with acne.

Stop. It. Now. Share the white meat with your brother.

Tell your sister you’re sorry. It’s not her fault she has a nervous skin condition.

I’m sorry you have a skanky skin condition.

I hate you, Palmer.

I’m sick of this, Bethany.

When will the jazz bar open again, Wynne?

I’m binge watching golf videos to keep my mind occupied. Palmer, you might try staying in shape by laying off the tater tots. Even with those spindly legs of yours, you’re getting a belly on you eating all that grease. Show some discipline sheltering in place. We’ll watch a few of your namesake’s putting videos after dinner. You can practice your swing in the garage.

Without my senior year I’m not even going to make the golf team in college.

Not with that gut you’re not.

What’s that even mean, Mom, sheltering in place?

Good question, Ashley. It means we stay home like an old-fashioned American family. Like when I was a teenager. Now that you mention it, how about after I do the dishes we do one of those TikTok videos where we all dance hippy-hoppy together. Daddy can wear his pork-pie hat. I can put on sunglasses. You kids can dress alike the way you did when you were little.

Oh, my God, Mom, please.

Hey, watch your mouth, young lady, it’s Holy Saturday.

Who really gives a shit, Dad?

You watch your mouth, too, mister. Is it my fault you aren’t good enough on the links to get an early Ivy League admission like my boss’ son?

Get back here, right now, Palmer. Come back to this table this minute. See what you did, Wynne, with your constant criticism. He’s so sensitive.

What about my prom dress? I still need shoes.

That’s out, too. We’ll take the dress back.

I won’t.

You will.

All you two care about are yourselves.

That is not true, is it, Wynne.

Pass the tater tots.