The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee by Daniel Karasik Page A

shouldn't be replaced by a substitute joke unless you're absolutely sure it's as funny as the original. If you lack this certainty, the line can and probably should be cut.

1
    Early one Friday morning in the McPhee house…
    MARNIE, in the basement, runs on, followed by MOM, DAD, and ALAN:
    MOM
    Because you're part of this family!
    MARNIE
    No no no, I don't believe it!
    MOM
    Well, it's true!
    MARNIE
    I don't believe it!
    ALAN
    What's the big deal, let her keep thinking she's a Martian, I wish I had such illusions.
    MARNIE
    I come from Mars!
    DAD
    Mars is a long way away.
    MARNIE
    I know! That's why I'm special! Because I come from Mars!
    MOM
    This is getting out of hand.
    DAD
    You come from your mother, actually, it's a matter of anatomy.
    ALAN
    Can we not go there, please?
    MARNIE
    I'm nothing like you people!
    DAD
    Maybe we should google Mars, you can see the difficulty in getting from there to here.
    MARNIE
    No no no!
    MOM
    Can we all sit down and talk about this?
    MARNIE
    I don't believe in sitting!
    ALAN
    For religious reasons, probably.
    MOM
    Marnie—
    MARNIE
    I DON'T WANT TO BE JUST LIKE YOU!
    They freeze.
    MARNIE turns to us, steps out.
    Yikes.
    The others drift off.
    This is what I like to call a steeeeeeeky, steeeeeeeky situation.
    Allow moi to explain.
    Moi—that's French, because I'm Canadian—je swiss Marnie, Marnie McPhee, the free, with glee, that's me—I like words that rhyme because I'm a poet, professionally, like Dr. Seuss or Dr. Shakespeare, and not like an amateur poet, who doesn't know grammar, which is something I know, because I'm a professional—at least that's my plan, for when I grow up, which might happen.
    But!
    That's when—if—I'm older.
    Right now, though, while I am le kid, I'm going crazy.
    Apparently I'm part of my family. This is a problem because my family is so, so weird.
    My mom runs around all day visiting my grandmother and buying groceries and she never ever sings, which is sad, because she could've become an opera singer—and almost did!—before deciding to become a boring mom instead.
    My dad's an engineer (which doesn't mean he makes engines, which is what people think when they're three, but not anymore! because people get smarter) and all day long he's got his nose in a book, and he's always telling me about the time he almost became an astronaut, before deciding to become a boring dad instead.
    And then there's Alan, who's my older brother, but only because we have the same parents; otherwise we're not related. Alan is a boy, so he's gross, but also he's in love with a grown-up woman, so he's really gross, and weird, and also gross. Alan is sixteen. The woman he's in love with, which makes him really extra gross, is twenty-one. He doesn't get that if they get old, which might happen, she'll be like 127 when he's twenty-two. And he's always whining about his gross stupid love, and he never wants to play Marnie Sits On Alan's Head (which is a really good game), because he'd rather mope and be a boring older brother instead!
    Don't you see, don't you get it?! If I'm "part of this family" (quote unquote, Mom), if it's true, if I'm like all of them and not from Mars, that makes me weird too! It makes me dooooooomed: to grow up and be just like them, weird like them, unspecial like them.
    And for so so so so long I thought they were perfect.
    How could they let me down like this by not being perfect?
    What can I do, what can I do?!
    Maybe I'll run away, I'll be a "runaway," like in this book I read, Runaway, where this girl leaves her house and goes to live under a bridge with trolls who are evil but then nice, but then evil again, but then nice forever. That would be good.
    But if I run away my parents will find me, and they'll be angry, or sad, probably some combination of angry and sad, angrad, sangry—and, more importantly, they'll find me and take me back home and my plan will be foiled.
    Where can I go where nobody, not even somebody