JILL: What are you doing?
JACK: I'm throwing out the dishes. They're dirty, I'm throwing them out.
JILL: You're not washing the dishes?
JACK: No I'm not washing the dishes.
JILL: They're not paper dishes Jack.
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JACK: No, they're not.
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JILL: You can't just throw out perfectly good dishes.
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JACK: But they're not my dishes, they're mom's and mom isn't washing them so I'm throwing them out.
JILL: We should give them away.
JACK: Who wants dirty dishes?
JILL: We'd clean them.
JACK: Who?
JILL: Us.
JACK: They're not my dishes. I don't do other people's dishes.
JILL: They're mom's.
JACK: Exactly, they're mom's and if mom had washed them before she'd left and put them in a box and brought them to the salvation army...
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JILL: Why can't we do them? That that's what good kids would--
JACK: Good kids listen to their mother Jillian.
JILL: And what was her advice for these dishes?
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JACK: That they would be dirty. That was how she left them and that is how they will stay, for all eternity, in a dump. Along with her salt and pepper collection.
JILL: No!
JACK: Well you weren't going to keep them.
JILL: No, but I thought --No, stop it--I thought of them as a, I don't know...
JACK: We don't want them Jill I guarantee the next generation won't want them any more. If you keep something for long enough you start thinking it's important. Even if it's junk.
JILL: It's nostalgic.
JACK: It's what homeless people do. Should we start collecting broken faced dolls, pop cans, and old newpapers?
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JILL: Fuck off.
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