I feel pretty good today, like for once, I am really "contributing" to "society." Or if not "society," than at least to "myself."

My big task for today was to create some mail slots for the department. It is not really my job, but I am a can-do, pitch-in-and-help girl, as long as there are mini boxes of Dots as a reward. Which there were. So, I created these mail slots, which took me away from valuable time I had planned to use for writing spec scripts. I have to hurry, in case that writer's strike ends and my chances for getting a writing credit on "Cavemen" go whistling by like a hobo strolling down a railroad track. Who is whistling.

Here's my idea for the script, ready?

MY CAVEMAN SCRIPT
By Violet White, DDS

INTERIOR, NIGHT: A CAVEMAN is sitting in a living room. It is furnished with awesome, perfect furniture and flokati rugs, like they went on a one-million-dollar shopping spree at IKEA. Also, there should be an elaborate crystal chandelier, because COME ON! They are Cavemen, and the juxtaposition of their oafishness with the delicate beauty of a chandelier is some funny, funny shit. Right?

CAVEMAN 1 enters, stage left, carrying a bag of groceries. The bag should contain fey, imported groceries and, sticking out, a bunch of celery and a loaf of French bread.

CAVEMAN 1: Honey, I'm home! [SFX: Audience laughter, whooping]

CAVEMAN 2: [Looking up from the grand piano where I forgot to mention he is seated, playing "Claire de Lune" or whatever] Gerard, why are you so late? I've been making myself totally neurotic and weepy over your extended absence. I almost dialed my analyst, and you know how Dr. Jordiss told me I couldn't call more than eight times a day.

[NOTE: I have not actually seen this show, so I don't know the names of the characters, but I figure we can "work that out" in final edit.]

CAVEMAN 1: Sorry, ...Calvin. Yeah, Calvin. That'll work. Sorry, Calvin, the lines were extremely long at the Exotic Fey Grocery Boutique where I buy that shredded porcini mushroom tapenade you like so much. [Bitchily, or rather, more bitchily]: Next time I'll just go to Trader Joe's with the rest of the rabble. [SFX: Audience yelling, "You go, girl!"]

CAVEMAN 2, who I guess is now Calvin: No need to get bitchy, Gerard, I was just worried, because my boss, the famous fashion designer Olva De Marsupii is coming to dinner, or have you forgotten, because you were preoccupied with thoughts of yourself? [SFX: Audience laughter, and "Whoooooa!!! SNAP!"]

CAVE-GERARD: Is now the right time to tell you that your deodorant is failing?

CALV-MAN: [Strikes an extended minor chord on the piano] I don't want to put any pressure on you, but I also invited your ex-wife.

CAVE-GERARD: Donatella?

CALV-MAN: No, [Strikes another minor chord] Siobhan. The beautiful one, who dumped you when you wouldn't get your teeth capped.

[COMMERCIAL BREAK--I am hoping that IKEA will want to buy a lot of ad time here, maybe up to 20 minutes, so I won't have to write so much script. This is really taxing.]

INTERIOR, NIGHT: Cavemans 1 and 2 are seated at dinner with Olva the fashion designer boss and Siobhan. The dining table should be extremely abstract and arty, a combination of dichroic glass and anodized aluminum polished in great, looping circles. Olva should be wearing something that says FASHION DESIGNER! Although not literally. Try some style of hat, or trapezoidal eyeglass frames drizzled with vari-colored paint. Siobhan should be a supermodel, dressed in highly skimpy attire. Everyone is laughing, and CAVEMAN 1 is pouring wine from a bottle into Siobhan's glass, which should be asymmetrical and hand-blown. And purple.

CAVEMAN 1: More wine, my lovely?

SIOBHAN: Oh, Caveman 1, I must have been mad to divorce you!

CAVEMAN 2: But don't you remember? He gave you the scabies!

CAVEMAN 1: I'm calling my analyst! [Stomps off, crying.]

OLVA THE FASHION DESIGNER: I like the way you bust balls, Caveman 2! You are promoted to Head seam cutter!

SIOBHAN: Marry me and make me the most fulfilled woman in the universe.

[CAVEMAN 1 sweeps everything off the table and he and SIOBHAN climb on top and make out. OLVA photographs them with her cameraphone, shrieking, "Perfect! Perfect!"]

[Fade to black over SFX of Audience "Awwwwwwwwww"s of appreciation, and applause.]

THE END.

Star of the day. . .Marc Jacobs