GROUP THERAPY ROOM - 3pm

Several chairs are set up in a circle. ROSS, an undercover therapist, sits in a chair. ELLEN, an edgy woman undergoing state-mandated anger-management therapy, enters.

ROSS: You're new here. Welcome.

ELLEN: I'm not new. Who said I was new?

ROSS: Sorry. I guess I didn't recognize you.

ELLEN: Where is everybody? It's supposed to start at 3pm.

ROSS: Sometimes they start late on purpose. You know, to see if we'll bite.

ELLEN: They're not gonna get me. I'm cured. So at ease. So at peace.

ROSS: Me too. I'm Ross.

ELLEN: Ellen.

ROSS: How long have you been angry?

ELLEN: I was born pissed. My mom was an alcoholic in the womb. Which meant I sucked at math and can't have more than a half a glass of wine before the words "genetic pre-disposition" pound my head.

ROSS: I bet I can beat that story. I was born in a barn. No electricity. Candles. As soon as my pa slapped my bottom, the cows went "Moooooo."

ELLEN: You think that beats my story?

ROSS: It wasn't very sanitary.

ELLEN: When I was eight, I was thrown into foster care while my mother did time for a drunk driving conviction.

ROSS: I know what you mean. When I was eight, no matter how much I begged, my parents refused to let me see Saturday Night Fever. It made me SO MAD!

ELLEN: When I was a teenager, I lived in a convent because I got kicked out of the group home I was living in after my mom died of cirrhosis. A priest knocked me up, and the nuns forced me to give up my baby for adoption.

ROSS: Oh my God. I can so relate. When I was a teenager, I had the worst acne. They called me "Zitty Zack," and obviously, my name is not Zack. It's Ross.

ELLEN: (anger brewing) You think the examples you've set forth justify your anger problem?

ROSS: I forgot to mention. My girlfriend likes to wear my underwear. Weird, I know. But she's a nice person on the inside.

ELLEN: That's it? That's all you've got?

ROSS: What's that supposed to mean?

ELLEN: It means that my stories not only beat you, they trample you.

ROSS: Jeez. You don't have to be so snippy about it.

ELLEN: I'm not being snippy. I just want you to understand that I have experienced things that have earned me anger rights, while you are simply being over-dramatic and ungrateful for the blessed life you've led.

ROSS: Why does it have to be a contest, Ellen?

ELLEN: Because I deserve to win something, Ross!

ROSS: Do I make you angry?

ELLEN: Don't "F" with me, buddy. "F" as in, you know what. Don't do it. This is my last class before my evaluation.

ROSS: It's just a question. Do I make you angry?

ELLEN: I'm going outside for a smoke.

(Ellen grabs her purse, pulls out a cigarette and crosses to exit.)

ROSS: You'll get marked down if you're not sitting in here at 3pm.

ELLEN: No one else is here.

ROSS: I am.

ELLEN: Then be a saint and tell them I'm outside smoking.

ROSS: I don't feel comfortable doing that.

ELLEN: Why not?

ROSS: I don't like getting involved.

ELLEN: I'm not asking you to cover for a murder!

ROSS: My answer is no.

ELLEN: Fine.

(Ellen returns to the circle and sits. Ross sits calmly, unaffected. She keeps breathing, trying not to be annoyed. She taps her knees, cracks her knuckles, but the anger inflames. She grabs Ross' throat.)

ELLEN: You asshole! I just wanted a smoke! Was that too much to ask?

ROSS: Security!!!!!

ELLEN: Tattletale!

ROSS: You got that right. I'm an undercover therapist, Ellen. Welcome to your final evaluation. I'm sorry, but it looks like we'll be seeing you again. "F." As in, fail.

(Ross exits. Ellen screams out in frustration.)

ELLEN: NO!!!!