INT. MONICA AND CHANDLER’S APARTMENT – EVENING
(Monica and Chandler are nervously setting the table. There’s way too much silverware. Monica is clearly stressed.)
MONICA:
Okay, Chandler, just remember—when my dad gets here, do not make jokes. He doesn’t always… get you.
CHANDLER:
(Sarcastic)
What?! Who wouldn’t love sarcastic deflections and nervous jazz hands?
(Door opens. JACK GELLER walks in wearing a blazer and holding a pie.)
JACK:
Monica! My little girl! (Kisses her cheek)
And… Chandler. Still here, huh?
CHANDLER:
Yep. Like mold in a rental bathroom.
MONICA:
(Shooting Chandler a look)
Dad, we’re really glad you came. Chandler made dinner.
JACK:
You let him cook?
CHANDLER:
Technically, I heated. Monica did everything but hand-feed me.
JACK:
(Sits, eyeing Chandler)
So, what do you do now, Chandler? Still doing… data… stuff?
CHANDLER:
Actually, I work in advertising now. I write slogans.
JACK:
Advertising? Huh. I always thought that job was for people who couldn’t make it in real business.
MONICA:
Dad!
CHANDLER:
It’s fine, Monica. (Turns to Jack) You know, without advertising, how would you know which fiber supplement to trust?
JACK:
(Sternly)
I trust my gut, son.
CHANDLER:
Then let me help sell it!
(Awkward silence. Monica groans.)
MONICA:
Okay! Let’s eat!
JACK:
(Sitting down)
You know, Monica, I always imagined you’d end up with a doctor or a lawyer. Someone with… direction.
CHANDLER:
I have direction! I just like to stop at every rest area and make a few jokes.
JACK:
(Shrugs)
You’re lucky she loves you.
MONICA:
He is. And I do.
(Beat. Jack sighs, softening a little.)
JACK:
Alright. Just… don’t screw it up, Chandler.
CHANDLER:
(Sincerely)
Sir, screwing it up is literally my biggest fear. Right after sharks. And… you.
JACK:
(Smirks)
At least you’re honest.
