EPISODE 2
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL CLASSROOM- DAY
I’m MOLLY, a hormonal thirteen year old. I’m sitting in math class wearing a thong and super tight Abercrombie khakis, both hand-me-downs from my older sister. My thick, curly hair is straightened and teased to 2000’s scene fashion. My big black bow matches that day’s accessories from Claire’s. My eyes are caked in Hot Topic Eyeliner and hot pink eyeshadow.
The sound of my math teacher begins to warp, and disappear into the background of a familiar high pitched wine. I look down at the crotch of my khakis to find a growing flow of blood. I raise my hand, and ask to go to the bathroom. I tie my sweater around my waist. When I stand up to grab the bathroom pass, I turn my butt to the whiteboard and side shuffle to the door.
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL BATHROOM- DAY
I side shuffle my way past a trio of eight grade cheerleaders chatting and touching up their makeup at the sinks. In the bathroom stall, I assess the damage. My thong and Abercrombie hand me downs are soaked with clumpy blood. As I begin to frantically wrap my underwear with one-ply toilet paper, the felt puppet Uterus appears in the stall from a cloud of red smoke.
UTERUS
Honey, that TP isn’t gonna help.
(She takes a drag of her cigar)
Trust me, we’ve passed the point of no return.
MOLLY
(Whispered)
You can’t smoke in here! I’m at school!
UTERUS
Huh, must be a new policy.
MOLLY
What am I supposed to do? I don’t have a pad!
UTERUS
(Exhaling another puff of smoke into my face)
Bet those skinny lil bitches out there have a tampon. Kid, today’s the day you talk to an eight grader.
I clear my throat and ask for a tampon. A short, blonde, thin cheerleader with even tighter Abercrombie khakis than mine hands me a Kotex tampon from underneath the bathroom stall door. It’s petite and well-packaged, just like her. I unwrap it and stick it up my vag. The Uterus chimes in.
UTERUS
Oooh-la-la, is that one of those pearly dispensers? Feels a lil small.
I flush a clump of bloodied TP down the toilet and throw away the tampon packaging. The uterus disappears in a cloud of red smoke as I exit the stall.
At the sink, I wash my hands and muster the courage to thank the pod of cheerleaders touching up their makeup.
CHEERLEADER
“For sure, girl. That should last you the rest of the day.”
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL HALLWAY- DAY
Immediately, I leak through the tampon while walking back to class. I rush past my classroom door to the front office to ask to call my mom.
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL FRONT OFFICE- DAY
When I ask the front office secretary for the phone to call my mom, she sighs. She is a plump middle aged lady with a deep, southern drawl and a voice void of compassion.
SECRETARY
“Why do you need my phone?”
MOLLY
“I’m having some personal issues.”
SECRETARY
“Have you talked to the counselor?“
MOLLY
“I mean... health problems.”
SECRETARY
“Have you gone to the nurse?”
MOLLY
“Can I please just call my mom?”
SECRETARY
“Not unless I get a valid reason.”
My eyes begin to well with frustrated tears, then they narrow. I clear my throat and dramatically declare,
MOLLY
“I got my period and the q-tip tampon I got from some cheerleader is no match for my gaping, bleeding vagina, okay!? So can I please just call my mom for a new pair of pants?!”
Without a shred of sympathy or emotion, the front office secretary slides the phone to me across the desk.
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL OFFICE- DAY
Sitting in the office, I am mortified to see my DAD walk through the front door. He’s holding a tie string bag of fresh undies, two pairs of pants, and a box of my mother’s Jumbo tampons.
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL BATHROOM- DAY
As Dad waits for me outside of the bathroom, I change into the spare clothes he brought. I have to peel the thong off me, cemented to my crotch with blood.
I face off with the first Jumbo tampon of my life. The first of many. I compare the dainty tampon the cheerleader gave me to the same tampons my mom, a mother of two vaginal births, uses. To my great sorrow, the Jumbo fits. The Uterus reappears from a cloud of red smoke just in time to chime,
UTERUS
“Might be enough room for one more!”
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL HALLWAY- DAY
When I bring my bloodied clothes out to my dad, he gags. Then he sees I’m crying. I fall into his arms and sob.
DAD
“I can’t stay for long, I have to get back to work.”
INT. MIDDLE SCHOOL CLASSROOM- DAY
I return to math class, my eyeliner smudged. The teacher scolds me, saying
TEACHER
“That was gone longer than a bathroom break, young lady.”
The episode ends with me, errupting at the teacher.
MOLLY
“FUCK Y-”