Fade in. Interior of Jane’s car, complete with discarded straw wrappers, miscellaneous school papers, sand and errant leaves. Two disgruntled boys sit in the back seat with arms folded.
#1son: Why do we have to go to church?
Jane: Because it’s good for you. It’s a place where you can learn how to do good things.
#1son: We already know. Ms. Park (#1son’s teacher) always teaches us about that. How to “do unto others” and help people and give to the poor. Stuff like that.
Jane: Well, that’s great. I love it that she’s teaching you those things, too. But church is another place where we can learn those things.
#2son: But we don’t want to go. Plus, we’re already good.
Jane: I beg to differ. What about the two arguments over xbox I had to break up this morning?
Silence.
More silence.
#2son: If we already know what we’re supposed to do to be good, why do we still have to go to church?
Jane: Because we want to show God that we’re making an effort to do good things. And when you listen to the sermon, you might learn something new, something you hadn’t thought of before to continue to do good things. You might be reminded of ways that you could do better.
Silence. Arms still folded in defiance. (The boys in the back seat, not driver Jane.)
#1son: Mom? What’s a gangster?
Jane: A person who does bad things to people.
#1son: Like kill them?
Jane: Yes. Like kill them.
#2son: Do gangsters go to church?
Jane: Probably not.
#2son: Well, maybe they should be going to church this morning instead of us.
Ahh, from the mouths of babes.
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