FLASHBACK: THE GRILL INCIDENT (LONG TIME AGO DURING REGINA'S CHILDHOOD)
INT. GEORGE MANSION - FOYER - DAY (LONG TIME AGO)
The foyer is bright, smelling of expensive lilies and floor wax. The front door is wide open. A group of wealthy NORTH SHORE MOMS are heading out, clutching yoga mats and iced lattes.
JUNE (30s, looking "plastic" and vibrant) stands with her arm draped around YOUNG REGINA. who is wearing her pristine pink button-down dress June is beaming the picture of maternal warmth for the audience
JUNE
(To the Moms, laughing)
Oh, honestly, Regina is my total bestie! We tell each other everything. I don't believe in "parenting," I believe in mentoring with a side of shopping!
June gives Regina a playful, affectionate squeeze. The other moms coo.
MOM #1
You're so lucky, Regina. My mom still makes me wear sunscreen.
JUNE
(Winking)
Rules are for people without good lighting, honey! We're just two girls living our best lives, right, Gina?
YOUNG REGINA (Small voice) It's Regina, Mom.
JUNE (Ignoring her, to the moms) See? She's so feisty! I love it!
June kisses the top of Regina's head. The Moms exit, waving. The second the door clicks shut, the warmth vanishes from June's face like a light switch being flicked off. Her face drops into a cold, clinical mask. She lets go of Regina's arm from Regina's shoulder as if she's touched something contaminated.
JUNE
(Voice cold, sharp)
Your posture was leaning. You looked like you had a spine made of cooked pasta. And don't "correct" me in front of the girls, it's aging for both of us.
YOUNG REGINA But—
JUNE (Voice sharp)
Go to the backyard. I have a photoshoot for my "Authentic Motherhood" blog, and if you look slouchy, I'm giving your Bavarian dollhouse to your cousin Chloe. She's poor, she won't care if her dolls have bad posture.
Regina stares at her with her eyes so cold that her expression hardens into a stone-cold mask she'll wear for years to come.
JUNE (CONT'D)
Don't look at me with those "poor me" eyes. Go. Now.
Regina turns toward the backyard. As she walks, the world around her begins to shift—the colors become more saturated, the memory taking hold...
EXT. GEORGE MANSION - BACKYARD - DAY
A little/young REGINA GEORGE stands on the patio. She is wearing a pristine, short-sleeved pink button-down dress and a matching headband—she looks like a living doll. Behind her sits a massive, intricate GERMAN DOLLHOUSE, a $5,000 reminder of June's threats. It has real shingles and working chandeliers.
JUNE GEORGE (30s, wearing a neon tracksuit and holding a Chihuahua) is obsessed with a shiny, industrial-sized CRAFTSMAN BARBEQUE GRILL that looks like it belongs in a professional kitchen.
JUNE Regina, honey, look at your dollhouse! It's from Bavaria. The little dolls have actual human hair. It cost more than a Honda Civic!
YOUNG REGINA (Pointing at the grill) I don't want a house for tiny people, Mom. I want to use the Craftsman. I want to sear something.
JUNE (Gasping) Absolutely not! Grills are for grown-ups who understand the tragedy of a high-calorie marinade. If you start flipping burgers now, you'll be 'heavy' by the third grade. I'm giving the dollhouse to your cousin Chloe. She's poor, she'll appreciate the craftsmanship.
YOUNG REGINA I don't care about Chloe. But that grill is mine.
EXT. GEORGE MANSION - PATIO - DAY
The Craftsman Grill sits like a chrome monument. JUNE (30s) stands over it, shielding it with her body as little/young REGINA reaches for the handle.
JUNE Regina, stop! I am telling you for the last time: No.
YOUNG REGINA But I want to make a slider!
JUNE (Incredibly serious) Honey, you are seven. You're too little to handle industrial-grade propane. It's dangerous! You could singe your eyebrows, and then you'd have to draw them on, and you'd look like a common waitress. Plus, if you start cooking, people will eat. And if they eat, they get fat. Do you want to be the reason this zip code loses its "Best Looking" ranking? Because I don't.
YOUNG REGINA I don't care about the neighbors! I want to sear!
JUNE Well, you can't. Go play with your German dollhouse. It's $5,000 worth of wood and paint. I'm giving it to your cousin Chloe if you don't use it, because she doesn't have a future, so it doesn't matter if she likes dolls or not.
EXT. GEORGE MANSION - LATER THAT AFTERNOON
The backyard is quiet. Regina has dragged a heavy step-stool to the grill. She's wearing oversized oven mitts and holding a professional spatula in one hand and a plate of raw hamburger patties in the other.
She clicks the ignition. WHOOSH. A plume of smoke rises as the grill ignites. Regina begins "slapping meat" onto the grates like a seasoned professional. The smoke is thick and smells of grease.
JUNE (O.S.) Regina? Why do I smell... saturated fats?!
June rounds the corner, Her face is a mask of pure horror as she sees the smoke and the flying burgers in the air thanks to Regina freezing, spatula mid-air, as a patty hangs in the breeze.
JUNE Regina George! Did you just create a carbohydrate?! I told you it was dangerous! You're risking your complexion and our collective waistlines!
YOUNG REGINA (Hiding the spatula behind her back, face smeared with grease) I wasn't doing anything. A bird flew into the grill and exploded. It wasn't me. It was a fatty bird.
JUNE Don't lie to me! I can see the grill marks on your soul! You're trying to make us all fat! You're trying to sabotage this family's summer silhouette! I warned you that you were too young for this responsibility!
YOUNG REGINA It's my grill! You bought it for me!
JUNE (Grabbing her arm) I bought it for the aesthetic, Regina! It was supposed to just sit there and look expensive, like your father!
June grabs Regina by the arm. She doesn't look like a "Cool Mom" right now; she looks like a woman whose juice cleanse just failed.
INT. REGINA'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
June marches Regina into her pink, over-decorated bedroom and throws her in the bed.
YOUNG REGINA You can't do this! I have rights! I'm a child!
JUNE You're a child who needs to learn that we do not touch the Craftsman! You stay in here and think about what you've done as well as your BMI!. You could have caused a neighborhood-wide wardrobe malfunction!
YOUNG REGINA You're just jealous because my sear was perfect!
JUNE (Closing the door) I'm doing this because I'm your mother and I'm your best friend, and friends don't let friends cook red meat!
CLICK. The door locks. Regina throws herself against the door, screaming.
YOUNG REGINA (Muffled, Screaming, pounding on the door) I'LL NEVER EAT A SALAD AGAIN! I HATE YOU! I HATE SEARS! I HATE EVERYTHING!
Young Regina falls to the floor, sobbing into her white silk carpet. She isn't crying because she's sad; she's crying because she lost.
INT. REGINA'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
YOUNG REGINA (O.S.) I'LL NEVER EAT A SALAD AGAIN! I HATE YOU! I HATE SEARS! I HATE EVERYTHING!
Young Regina falls to the floor, sobbing into her white silk carpet. Her muffled cries are less about sadness and more about the indignity of being caught.
She stops. A thought sparks behind her eyes. Her tears dry instantly. She sniffs, a devious glint appearing. This isn't crying; this is plotting. She looks to her window.
EXT. GEORGE MANSION - MOMENTS LATER
Regina's second-story bedroom window is open. YOUNG REGINA emerges, wearing her oversized oven mitts, carefully lowering herself with a makeshift rope. The "rope" is a series of five expensive silk designer scarves tied together with elaborate, insecure bows. Each scarf has a recognizable high-end brand logo.
She rappels down, grunting. The knots are barely holding. Below, on the perfectly manicured lawn, is a topiary sculpture of a flamingo she despises. She lands with a grunt, sending a shower of perfectly trimmed leaves. She pulls a small, silver flask from her pocket, takes a swig. It's chocolate milk.
She checks the house. All clear. A determined, slightly psychotic grin spreads across her grease-smeared face.
INT. GEORGE MANSION - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
June, downstairs, hears a faint THUD from outside. She dismisses it. She's too busy inspecting her reflection in a framed gallery-wrap canvas of herself on the wall.
JUNE (To herself) Mmm, no, this angle makes my collarbones look... attainable. Unacceptable.
She pulls out her phone and texts her art dealer.
INT. GEORGE MANSION - GRAND STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
Regina has re-entered the house through a side door. She surveys the grand, sweeping marble staircase. A mischievous spark ignites.
She scurries to the kitchen. Her oven mitts still on, she grabs the half-eaten plate of hamburger patties she cooked earlier, along with the large tub of "Miracle Glow Ageless Skin Butter" June uses.
Back at the top of the staircase, Regina begins to meticulously smear the grease from the hamburger patties onto the polished marble. She then dollops the expensive, creamy skin butter over it, creating a truly treacherous, glistening slide. It smells like a fast-food joint and expensive moisturizer.
YOUNG REGINA (Whispering to herself) A "saturated fat" problem, huh, Mom? Let's see about your complexion.
She wipes her hands on her pink button dress, leaving dark, greasy streaks across the fabric.
INT. GEORGE MANSION - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
June, now pacing, is on the phone.
JUNE (Into phone) No, no, I need the other selfie. The one where I look like I've discovered the secret to eternal youth and then accidentally lost my car keys. Yes, that one.
She walks towards the staircase, engrossed in her phone call. Regina peeks from behind a velvet curtain, holding a small, antique binoculars. Her eyes gleam.
INT. GEORGE MANSION - TOP OF STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
June reaches the top step, still on her phone.
JUNE (Into phone) I just want it to say, "I woke up like this, but better." Is that so hard?
She takes a step. Her foot hits the greasy, buttery patch. Her eyes widen.
Her legs flail wildly, a cartoonish blur. She makes a series of high-pitched squeaks and yelps, arms windmilling. It's like a human figure skater suddenly hitting a patch of oil. She manages to stay upright for a few agonizing seconds, slipping, sliding, doing an involuntary ballet down the first three steps.
Regina giggles, adjusting her binoculars.
June finally loses her footing entirely. She lets out a dramatic, operatic scream.
JUNE (Screaming) MY PELVIC FLOOR!
She begins to slide down the remaining steps on her rear, a look of utter betrayal and terror on her face. Her perfect hair goes askew. Her designer sweater becomes bunched. It's a comedic but genuinely painful-looking descent.
INT. GEORGE MANSION - BOTTOM OF STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
Regina races to the top of the stairs, a maniacal grin on her face. She looks at her giant, elaborate dollhouse, a perfect miniature replica of the George Mansion itself. It's a gift from June, given with a strict "hands-off" policy.
YOUNG REGINA (Eyes narrowed) If I can't have my Craftsman, you can't have your... aesthetic!
She takes a running start, then delivers a powerful, two-footed kick to the dollhouse. It wobbles, then topples, beginning its slow-motion, destructive tumble down the stairs. Miniature chandeliers shatter, tiny velvet curtains rip, doll-sized furniture explodes.
CRASH! BANG! SMASH!
The dollhouse, now a splintered mess of luxury, lands directly on June at the bottom of the stairs. June is covered in miniature debris: tiny chandeliers, tiny Chippendale chairs, and one particularly angry, tiny plastic poodle.
June GROANS, buried under the wreckage.
JUNE (Muffled) My Ming vase collection! It's all a metaphor for my shattered youth!
Regina descends the stairs calmly, stepping over the greasy patches, a picture of smug satisfaction.
JUNE (Pulling a miniature grand piano off her face) Regina George! This is a dangerous game! You could have caused a neighborhood-wide wardrobe malfunction!
Regina calmly approaches June. She pulls a stray doll's arm off her mother's perfectly coiffed hair.
YOUNG REGINA (Sweetly, too sweetly) Are you okay, Mommy? You look...messy.
June tries to stand, wobbling on the greasy floor. She slips again, falling into a heap of dollhouse shingles.
JUNE (Snapping) You think this is funny?! I am not a "Cool Mom" when I'm covered in tiny, expensive furniture!
June lunges, suddenly fueled by rage. She slips and slides, chasing Regina across the marble foyer. Regina, still in her oven mitts, is surprisingly agile, dodging June's clumsy grabs. The chase is a ballet of absurdity—June sliding, Regina deftly sidestepping.
They race past a portrait of June, which is now somehow crooked.
Regina, quick as a flash, darts into June's master bedroom suite. June follows, tripping over a throw rug designed to look like a faux fur yeti pelt.
INT. JUNE'S MASTER BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
June bursts into the opulent, overly decorated room.
JUNE Regina! Get back here! We need to discuss boundaries! And my insurance deductible!
Regina is already by the door, holding the ornate, solid gold key.
YOUNG REGINA (With a saccharine smile) Oh, I think you're the one who needs to discuss boundaries, Mom.
CLICK. Regina slams the door shut, locking it from the outside.
June lunges for the door, but it's too late. She pounds on it.
JUNE (Muffled, furious) Regina! You let me out this instant! I have a juice cleanse starting in five minutes! My chakras are going to be completely misaligned!
Regina leans against the door, a look of profound, chilling satisfaction on her face. She is no longer the crying child. She is the queen of her domain.
YOUNG REGINA (Shouting through the door, perfectly mimicking June) You're a child who needs to learn that we do not touch the Craftsman! You stay in here and think about what you've done as well as your BMI!
She grins. Then, she pauses, hearing June's continued muffled protests.
Regina pockets the key, adjusting her headband. She walks away, humming a triumphant tune, leaving June trapped.
YOUNG REGINA: (Pounding on the door with her oven mitts) Stay in there, you mean old monster! I'm the boss of the house now! I'm going to go eat a whole plate of burgers and you can't stop me because you're trapped in your room like a loser!
JUNE (O.S.): (Muffled, sobbing) Regina! That is a time-out! A very long, very expensive time-out!
YOUNG REGINA: (Sticking her tongue out at the door) Have fun with your juice, Mommy!
Regina skips away, kicking a stray dollhouse chair across the hall. She isn't thinking about the future; she's just happy she won the fight.
FADE OUT.