PARODY TIME-MEET JULIE

(Open on the Happy Wallet shop. Joyce and Tracey Allbright are making apple seed bracelets.)

Tracey: Mom, this was such a good idea you had, opening up a shop in the Haight-Ashbury district to sell cheap hippy knockoffs to tourists.

Joyce: Yeah really. It’s 1975. The hippy thing ended here, what, five years ago?

(Julie bursts in, crying.)

Joyce: Honey, what’s wrong?!

Tracey: Yeah, sis, all that crying is definitely ungroovy.

Julie: I tried to join the basketball team at my new school, Harold Robins Elementary, but the coach said the team was only for boys. (Makes disgusted noise) He wanted me to bake cookies for the bake sale they’re having to raise money for the team.

Tracey: Man, that is definitely something that can’t be categorized as boss.

Julie: Could I take a look at those newspapers? I have to find out about Title 9. Once I tell the coach about that new law, he’ll let me play for sure.

Joyce: No, Julie, I’ve got a much better way of getting you on the basketball team.

(The next morning. Joyce is lifting a sheet of basketballs out of the oven. Julie and Tracey are standing nearby.)

Tracey: This was such a groovy idea, Mom: baking basketballs for the team instead of cookies.

Joyce: Thanks, dear. I was a little worried, but the oven we use to bake the fake hash brownies worked out just fine.

Julie: I’ll take these to school today and if the coach still doesn’t let me on the team, I’ll have to resort to plan b.

(Shift to coach’s office. Julie knocks on the door.)

Coach: Enter.

(Julie enters, carrying a box of basketballs.)

Julie: Here’s my contribution for the team, coach. Can I join it now?

Coach: (Opening box) These are the weirdest rum balls I’ve ever seen. … What are these, basketballs?

Julie: Yes, my family and I baked a dozen basketballs last night. That should really help the team out.

Coach: I don’t know what to say. I, uh, really appreciate this, Allbright. It definitely will help the Pussycats finish somewhere other than dead last this year. However, I still do not allow girls on our school’s basketball team. It’s a boys team and that’s final.

Julie: Well, sir, then you leave me no other choice.

Coach: Oh, you gonna get a bunch of hairy-legged feminists marching around the school, burning their bras and giving me a bunch of grief about Title 9, the law of the land, that sort of thing?

Julie: How ‘bout a little one on one.

Coach: You’re challenging me to a basketball game?

Julie: I sure am. There’s still plenty of time before the first bell rings. Come on.

Coach: I, an adult male, am being challenged to a match-up with a nine year old, and a nine year old girl at that. Sure, why not. Wasn’t planning on using the time before school to do anything constructive anyway.

(Shift to the school gym. Coach is lying on the floor, exhausted. Julie is standing near him.)

Coach: Oh my gosh, I think I’m having a heart attack. You creamed me, Allbright.

Julie: So, can I be on the team now, coach?

Coach: Of course, of course. We need someone with your skills. Welcome aboard, Pussycat.

Julie: Thank you, coach.

(The bell rings)

Coach: Allbright, on your way to class, could you call me an ambulance, please.

Julie: Students are only allowed to make phone calls at lunch and after school. See you at practice.

Closing credits.

Based on “Meet Julie” by Megan McDonald.