SCENE: Late night. A kitchenette. Two YOUNG MEN are sitting around a table, getting properly drunk. The whining mew of an accordion can be heard in the distance, along with the cackling of an old woman and a repetitive stomp.
YOUNG MAN #1: What is that sound?
YOUNG MAN #2: My mother.
YOUNG MAN #1: She... is she playing the accordion?
YOUNG MAN #2: Technically it's a squeezebox.
YOUNG MAN #1: A squeezebox? How is that different from an accordion?
YOUNG MAN #2: The official word is "concertina", actually. It's not an accordion.
YOUNG MAN #1: How interesting.
YOUNG MAN #2: TRUST ME. I know more about the history of the concertina than any other human being on the planet, excepting Mama. I can rattle off every instance of it's storied past.
YOUNG MAN #1: She's actually not that bad, not that I have much experience with the sound of concertinas and very little to compare it to.
YOUNG MAN #2: Yeah, but she plays it all night. Every night. Dusk till dawn. Papa can't sleep at night.
They pause to listen to the music, as the crazy old lady plays "Lady of Spain". YOUNG MAN #1 starts to giggle briefly, as if he's got a private joke. YOUNG MAN #2 pours himself a drink and looks downcast.
YOUNG MAN #1: Ha!
YOUNG MAN #2: What's so funny?
YOUNG MAN #1: She plays the squeezebox all night, and Papa can't sleep.
YOUNG MAN #2: I don't get it. What's so funny?
YOUNG MAN #1: She's... playing... with... her... SQUEEZEBOX.
YOUNG MAN #2: Yes, yes she is. And it's terrible. It is my own personal purgatory.
YOUNG MAN #1 giggles riotously.
YOUNG MAN #2: I'm not sure you realize how miserable this is for us. She's obsessed. We love our mother very much, and we support her in everything she does, but the concertina has become a sick and desperate plea for help. We've tried taking it away.
YOUNG MAN #1: Squeezebox. It is a potential euphemism for vagina.
YOUNG MAN #2 looks deeply aghast at the idea.
YOUNG MAN #2: THAT IS MY MOTHER'S VAGINA YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. THE VERY VAGINA I CAME OUT OF. I'D RATHER YOU DIDN'T REFER TO IT SO CRUDELY.
YOUNG MAN #1: Dude, calm down. It was just a joke. Just a joke about your mom's squeezebox.
YOUNG MAN #2: IT'S A CONCERTINA. And my mother is just going through a really hard time right now. She lost her job at the plant, and she's seeking solace in the concertina. We know it's an uncommon hobby, and it's definitely hard to live with, but it's keeping her from hurting herself.
YOUNG MAN #1: Right, right, but you must admit, talking about your mama's squeezebox is mildly amusing.
YOUNG MAN #2: No, it isn't. And I'd like you to leave. I'm asking you to leave. I need you to leave right now.
YOUNG MAN #2 starts crying. YOUNG MAN #1 laughs and leaves.
YOUNG MAN #1: Hey, the music's alright. (leaves)
The music reaches a terrifying crescendo, and the stomping continues, and we can finally make out the old woman's tears, filling the air.
YOUNG MAN #2: I LOVE YOU, MAMA.