Men of a Certain Age: I Feel Like Having Me Some Ribs (teleplay)


First Place Winner, 2011 Expo Screenplay TV One Hour Teleplay Competition

It’s “Dad-Issues-on-Parade” in my Men of a Certain Age spec:

Joe and his son, Albert, have a true meeting of minds and Joe is thrilled by the sight of his son becoming a responsible, young man. Joe might want to put that celebration on hold for a bit.

Terry faces the cold-stone fact that he’s not just a “man of a certain age,” but an “actor of a certain age,” too. He spirals, but discovers that the only way “out” is “through”– leading him to confront his relationship with his dad for the first time in…ever.

Owen, Sr., has been sued for sexual harassment and it’s up to Owen to save the day. But as Owen discovers, his father’s problems may lie much deeper than a mere misunderstood turn of phrase.

These guys. They never learn, do they? No victory lasts long when you’re of a certain age.

[learn_more caption=”Dialogue Sneak-Peek”]

TERRY: So I’m staring at the donut box. And I thought–

JOE (grinning): Here we go. Let’s hear it.

TERRY: So the fact that I have no purpose in life, this amuses you?

JOE: Are you kidding? This is the highlight of my week. You always see your little Peter Pan troubles in such a, a–

OWEN: –artsy fartsy dickish way.

JOE: That. So come on, let’s hear it.

TERRY: I’m not a Jack Russell terrier.

JOE: Come on. Your friend asked you to audition. You stared at the box of donuts and you thought…

TERRY: I thought: That’s us. We’re the donuts.

Joe grins but Owen just glares at Terry.

OWEN: You are so goddamned strange.

TERRY: As long as you’re happy, Owen.

OWEN: This is a crisis? You feel like a donut?

TERRY: No. I don’t feel like a donut. I was just saying that we’re all like those donuts, all boxed up–

OWEN: –but you want to be a free donut.

JOE: Donut Spartacus.

TERRY: Forget the f– you guys just don’t get it. It’s a waste of time even–

OWEN: I have a lump.

Okay, that shuts everyone up. Owen’s cell phone rings again. He ignores it.

JOE: What do you mean? Like, a lump?

TERRY: Oh god, Owen.

OWEN: Yeah, a lump. On my side. I found it yesterday.

JOE: Let’s see it.

OWEN: I’m not gonna show it to you.

TERRY: What did Melissa say?

OWEN: I didn’t tell her about it.

TERRY: She’s your wife.

OWEN: And my job is NOT to scare the shit out of her.

JOE: Come on. There’s nobody around. Pull up your shirt.

Owen looks around, makes sure the coast is clear. He hesitantly pulls up his shirt on the lump side. Joe takes a look. Then he looks at Terry. Then he looks at Owen.

JOE (CONT’D): That’s a rib.

OWEN: What?

JOE: It’s a rib. Terry?

Terry studies Owen’s ribs.

TERRY: Ribs. You got three of ‘em.

Joe pulls up Owen’s shirt to study his other side.

JOE: Oh look, a matching set.

OWEN: I have ribs? I haven’t seen my ribs in a decade.

TERRY: You’re losing weight.

OWEN: Twelve pounds in six months. That’s like tossing a deck chair off the Titanic.[/learn_more]

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