INT. restaurant - day
an excited well dressed man and woman are sat at a table in a posh restaurant talking to a waiter, he is writing things down as they talk about plans for their mums 90th birthday party.
son
we would like the in house
chef to make something nice for mothers
birthday party don't we.
daughter
yeah! mum will love that. it's
not everyday you're nintey years old is
it? so we think it would be nice for the
chef to give her something to
remember on her big day.
waiter
are you sure you don't want
to bring your own food to the
doo?
son
no, I think we will go for that
professional touch with flowers and
stuff, you know the kind of thing.
waiter
yep! sure do.
daughter
are we paying you now?
waiter
no! just pay the biil tonight
when you come, that should be fine.
son
ok then we will see you later
thanks for all your help.
waiter
no problem. now are you sure you
don't want to bring your own food?
daughter
positive.
waiter
okie dokie then, I will see you later.
The man and the woman stand up and put there coats on they shake the waiters hand and make there way towards the exit. the waiter waves and grins awkwardly as the couple leave.
INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT
90 Year old vera is sat in her wheel chair looking very happy wearing a pointy party hat and sporting a massive 90th birthday badge on her chest, grandchildren are blowing party blowers in to her face she is surrounded by all of her family, sons - daughters - grandchildren. the lights dim down cameras flash and people whoop and jeer as touretes chef wheels in the cake from the kitchen. candles blazing he pushes the cake over to the birthday girl and put's the trolley in front of her wheel chair. the family begin to sing happy birthday, vera looks down to blow the candles out on her cake. the bright red writing catches her eye it reads "HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU BAGGY OLD FAGOT AND I HOPE YOU DON'T REACH 91 YOU SAGGY TITED FECK ARSE!! VERA coughs and dies face first inn to her cake dousing the candle out with her forehead. the daughter bursts out crying and cradles her dead mum.
daughter
you can't die mum! not today
tourete's chef bends down and taps the grieving woman on the shoulder she looks up at him expecting condolence.
tourete's chef
hey love! shes still have to
pay for that f**kin cake ya know!
the grieving daughter looks at the tourete's chef in disbelief at what he just said she begins to cry even louder. tourete's chef casually throws his t-towel over his shoulder and walks back towards the kitchen whistling zippady do darr.
the end
I hoped you like this.
