A/N: This is in response to GreenWood Elf’s Gender-Bender challenge on her forum. Anyone who has read my VSD knows that I do so enjoy turning even the most masculine characters into complete pansies, so this should be quite interesting. Here, Benjamin Martin will be a female. And yes, this is in script format. Why? Because it’s just better that way. But I warn you: This is utterly random and the product of a bored teenager on a rainy weekend.

Wisdom's Pearl came up with the title, which is much better than anything I could come up with by myself. So kudos to her!

Disclaimer: Nothing you see is mine and all that legal jazz.

(The same beginning, but this time it’s dubbed with a distinctly feminine voice. Cuts to the family, all of whom are being their usual, cheery, Brady Bunch selves. In the shed, we see a middle-aged woman in a worn dress and apron. She is muttering to herself. Nathan and Samuel run in.)

Nathan: Mother—

Brenda: No hats inside, young man!

(Abashed, the boys remove their hats.)

Nathan: Mother, there’s—

Brenda: Did you make your beds this morning?

Nathan: Uh, yes.

Brenda: Yes what?

Nathan: Yes, ma’am. Mom, there’s—

Brenda: Did you unload the dishwasher?

(Nathan is starting to look annoyed. Samuel digs a finger in his nose.)

Brenda: Stop picking your nose, Samuel.

(Samuel withdraws his finger sharply, wiping it on his shirt.)

Nathan: Mom—

Brenda: Did you fold your clothes?

Nathan: (looking close to tears) YES! Mom, there’s a postrider!

Brenda: (indifferently) Huh. Did you finish planting the south field?

Nathan: More than half.

(Samuel digs a finger in his nose again.)

Brenda: Gee, Grand Theft Auto really cuts into the day, huh?

(They freeze. Samuel, with his free hand, shoves Nathan.)

Samuel: Toldja so.

Brenda: Samuel. Finger. Nose. Out.

(Samuel withdraws his finger again. After a few moments, Brenda decides the chair is satisfactory. Everyone looks up. She pretends not to notice and eases onto the chair. After a moment, it predictably breaks. Nathan and Samuel run out, laughing, and Brenda has a fit as she continues breaking the chair.)

Brenda: DAMN HOSTESS SNACKS! FROM NOW ON, THIS FAMILY IS ONLY EATING LOW-CALORIE SNACKS!

(Cut to outdoors, later. Pleasant, all-is-calm-until-the-explosions-typical-John-Williams music is playing. Brenda, looking calmer, approaches a gravestone and looks at it fondly. She has a “Moment” that allows the audience to see that she has suffered a personal tragedy. The camera pans to a peaceful sky that fades to night. Cut to a window where Meg is showing Susan the stars.)

Meg: See that star right there? That’s Daddy. When he tried to make a rocket and go to the sky and Mom told him he was crazy and he blasted from the garage, he went up there. That star is him, looking down at us all the time.

(Susan looks at her incredulously. Meg looks dopily serene. The door creaks. They see Brenda and hurry under the covers.)

Meg: It helps her to know that Daddy got where he wanted to.

(Susan looks concerned for Meg’s well-being. Brenda nods uneasily.)

Brenda: Uh…did everybody brush their teeth?

Meg: Yes, Mom.

Brenda: Okay. ‘Night, girls.

Meg: ‘Night, Mom! (She turns to the window.) ‘Night, Daddy!

(Susan looks pleadingly at Brenda, who hurriedly closes the door and goes downstairs. She trips over a Lego-Millennium Falcon.)

Brenda: I told them to clean up!

(There is the same scrabble for mail.)

Gabriel: Hey, there’s some Declaration for Independence thing going on in Philly—

Brenda: (muttering) Liberals.

Gabriel: In Chestertown there was a riot and they tarred and feathered two of the magistrates! They died of burns.

Brenda: And do you know why that is, young man?

Gabriel: (looking nervous) Uh…no?

Brenda: Because of drugs. And alcohol. And unprotected sex.

(Gabriel and Thomas exchange looks.)

Gabriel: R-i-i-ight. Uh, hey look! Peter Cuppin joined the army! He’s a year younger than me! Can I—

Brenda: Peter Cuppin lives in a trailer. Every year when the other mothers brought in brownies and cookies for Christmas, his mother was the only one who didn’t. And his sister wears so much make-up she looks like a harlot. You are not following his example.

(Gabriel stares in disbelief. Brenda opens the letter.)

Brenda: Hmph. Well, it looks like the boys have made a mess again. Men. Can’t settle things peacefully. Always have to fight.

(Silence. After a moment, Thomas clears his throat.)

Thomas: So-o-o-o-o?

Brenda: Looks like we’ll have to go to Charles Town tomorrow. And make sure you pack clean underwear this time, Thomas.

(Uplifting music begins to play. The carriages are trundling along to a pleasantly bustling Charles Town. The children look around in awe as if they have never left home before. Brenda is the only one not grinning, alluding to the pending war. Cut to an expensively-furnished house. Prim-and-proper Charlotte is sitting on the couch and reading Cosmo Girl.)

Portly Slave: Miss Charlotte, the children are here.

Charlotte: Thank you, Henry.

Slave: It’s Harold, ma’am.

Charlotte: (with a frozen smile) Uh-huh. (Under her breath) Bratty little kids. And that fat cow—hi, kids!

Various Kids: Aunt Charlotte! We’ve missed you! Do we get presents? Will you give us money again?

Charlotte: Well, Brenda, they’re so thin! What on earth are you feeding them?

Brenda: (with a tight smile) Ha ha ha; More than enough. They just keep growing, don’t they? They just love coming here; whenever they’re in your charge, there’s no one to take care of them!

(The tension is almost unbearable. The kids’ smiles begin to slip.)

Charlotte: Uh…hey kids! I have something for you all inside!

Kids: Oh, finally, our presents!

(Abigale walks over with Susan. Charlotte approaches her with a toy truck.)

Charlotte: I have this for you, Sharon.

Abigale: Susan.

Charlotte: Susan. It belonged to your daddy.

(Susan looks in disbelief as she cautiously accepts the truck. Seeing that a wheel is broken, her mouth drops open. Abigale hurries inside the house.)

Charlotte: So…she still isn’t talking, huh?

Brenda: (icily) The pediatrician says that she is merely having a developmental problem typical of young victims of trauma. You know, it’s so nice to see you again! (she claps Charlotte hard on the back.)

Charlotte: (laughing in a forced manner, she puts a hand on Brenda’s upper-arm and digs her sharp fingernails into it.) Same here!

(They enter the house, “accidentally” tripping the other and laughing sarcastically. Cut to the streets at night. Brenda is looking down disapprovingly while the others look on in mild interest.)

Thomas: Hey, look, it’s Gabriel!

Brenda: (shouting) Don’t take anything anyone offers you! Don’t drink! And if someone gives you a bag and tells you to take it the bus depot—

Gabriel: (thoroughly embarrassed) Uh, can’t hear you! Bye! (He hurriedly moves away. Cut to Assembly House. Thomas is texting. Brenda reaches over and pops his hand. He scowls but puts up his phone. After some fidgeting, he begins to pull out an iPod. Brenda plucks the bud out of his ear. He looks resentful.)

Peter Howard:…and our rights are being threatened by a tyrant three thousand miles away!

Brenda: Mr. Howard, while you sit here and complain about tyranny, terrorists are jacking up gas prices and the truckers are going on strike. Do you know how much milk is costing now?

Howard: I—

Brenda: Five ninety-nine.

(The women in the room gasp in outrage and begin to talk.)

Brenda: (Her voice rising passionately) That’s not to mention that now that the writer’s strike is over, the actors are going on strike and we are being forced to wait until negotiations have been made to find out if Meredith and McDreamy get back together!

Random Woman: Who cares about them? George and Christina are both facing their own personal issues—

Another Woman: And don’t forget that Izzy and Alex still have to work through their problems!

(The hall surrenders to chaos as women began heatedly discussing who will leave, who will get with whom, and whether or not the Oceanic Six will ever return to the island. The gavel is banged several times.)

Burwell: Pardon me, Brenda, but just what does TV have to do with anything?

Brenda: All I’m saying is that while you all are complaining about a war that we could easily avoid, other issues are at hand.

Burwell: O-o-o-okay. But why do you think we could avoid this war?

Brenda: Because you can easily talk it through. We need to discuss this with the king and plead our case.

Burwell: We’ve tried that.

Brenda: Violence is not the answer.

Burwell: It’s the only way! We want—I mean, we have to fight!

Brenda: (Sighing impatiently) Okay, you know what? I don’t care. Go start a war and cook outdoors outside or something. I’ve got a casserole in the oven and I don’t want it to burn.

(The assembly begins to debate loudly amidst dramatic music. Gabriel storms out, his nose in the air. Cut to outside. The boy runs outside and announces the levy has been passed. Everyone is celebrating. Brenda sees Gabriel in line to enlist and makes a beeline for him.)

Brenda: Gabriel Edward Martin!

(Gabriel tries to hide, but to no avail.)

Brenda: Are you going to enlist without my permission, young man?!

Gabriel: Uh…yes? Mother, I’m eighteen! I’m a legal adult! I thought you understood me!

Brenda: You are still too young to drink; therefore you are coming home with me.

Gabriel: You can’t make me!

Brenda: (Looking beady-eyed.) This isn’t because you didn’t get into college; is it?!

Gabriel: (Laughing nervously.) O-of course not! (He whirls around to enlist.)

(Burwell comes to stand beside Brenda.)

Burwell: He’s as rebellious as his mother was at her age. (Pause.) You look good, Brenda.

Brenda: Get your hand off my ass, Harry.

(Brenda, Charlotte, and Thomas all leave. City darkens. The British are here. Gabriel narrates a letter to Thomas. Gabriel’s voice changes to Thomas’s as he reads to his siblings. Cut to attic. Thomas is putting on his mother’s old clothes when she walks in.)

Brenda: Thomas Martin, I will not have a transvestite in my house.

Thomas: But, but it’s your old uniform, Mom! It’s unisex!

Brenda: Oh. Well…take it off anyway.

Thomas: When can I—

Brenda: You can’t.

Thomas: But you said—

Brenda: No I didn’t.

(Thomas looks frustrated and dramatically storms out of room. Brenda closes the door, puts on her CD player, and begins singing off-key to Cindy Lauper. Cut to later that night. Cannons are blasting. The family comes out. The kids look as if they’re about to say, “I see dead people.”)

Brenda: Oh, God. Boys and their friggin’ toys, that’s what this is. Blasting at each other like there’s no tomorrow…

Samuel: Uh…how far away are they?

Brenda: Oh, uh, a long way away. They won’t come here. There’s got to be some law that violates the agreements of the Home Owner’s Association or something…

(Thomas walks out with guns and begins to distribute them.)

Brenda: Thomas! Where the heck did you find those?!

Thomas: Under your bed beside the wrapping paper.

Brenda: (looking flustered) Well…put them back.

(Thomas huffs and walks out dramatically.)

Brenda: Let’s all stay inside tonight, okay?

(Susan looks at her mother like she’s crazy. Cut to kitchen. Brenda is mysteriously absent. Cut to where a dark figure is straggling in the woods. Cut back to kitchen, where Nathan is looking like a Child of the Corn.)

Nathan: We’re gonna have to fight them off.

Samuel: Won’t Mom do that—

Nathan: (talking over Samuel) They’ll probably kill us men. And then they’ll Superman you hoes!

Abigale: (looking uncharacteristically dangerous) Boy, don’t you be talking like you some jive-ass turkey! (Muttering.) Cracker-ass…

(Nathan and Samuel are quiet for a moment before bursting into a chorus of “Soulja Boy.” Cut to hallway, where a bloody hand is turning on the knob. A gun clicks and the children, who must have amazing hearing, all look into the hallway.)

Brenda: Turn around slowly, and do not think of any tricks, buck-o!

(Gabriel, unsurprisingly, turns around. He collapses in Brenda’s arms.)

Various Children: Is that Gabriel?! What’s going on? Why is he bleeding? Why is that fainting couch so high off the ground? Why was Thomas allowed to sulk in his room and polish his soldiers while we were at dinner?

Brenda: Abigale, get some water and bandages! Fast!

(Abigale disappears for a grand total of three seconds before returning with said water and bandages. The kids are still asking questions that only a mother could answer, but even Brenda looks flustered.)

Brenda: Uh, Abigale…get the kids out of here!

William: But I want to watch…

Brenda: Kids, why don’t you order something on Pay Per View?

(The kids stampede from the room as if their brother was not, in fact, almost bleeding to death. Thomas watches with wide eyes.)

Gabriel: The Green Dragoons cut us to bits, and then the Virginia Regulars surrendered, and—

Brenda: Shh. Don’t talk. Sleep, sweetie.

Gabriel: But, I—

Brenda: Don’t talk about it. Calm down, honey. You need some fruit or something.

(Gabriel passes out just as some cannon-fire is conveniently heard outside. Brenda strides to the front porch.)

Brenda: (sighing) To this day he can’t close a friggin’ door…

(A battle is going on in the front yard. Thomas looks on in the hall, again strangely resembling Tarzan or Mowgli or some other human raised by animals. Brenda sees him.)

Brenda: All right, inside, young man.

Thomas: Aw, come on! It doesn’t bug me!

Brenda: (groaning as she pushes him inside and closes the door) I never should have let you watch Braveheart…

(Cut to early morning sky. Dramatic music that was actually used for another part of the film plays. Brenda and an awkward-looking Thomas go through the field with guns. A weak soldier raises his head.)

Brenda: You see, Thomas? Do you want that to be you? No, I didn’t think so.

(Cut to clock in living room. Daylight. A horse whinnies unnaturally loudly and awakens Gabriel. He comes outside to see Brenda giving a Redcoat and a Continental a lecture about keeping their issues off of her front porch. More dramatic music is heard as Redcoats creepily emerge from the fields as if they are Children of the Corn. Their leader approaches Brenda.)

Brenda: Do you have any idea how much it is going to cost to redo my porch? We just put sealer on it a week ago! Now you’ve gone and bled on it! I told you to keep that bandage in place; you’re acting like a three-year-old—

Lieutenant: Erm, madam?

Brenda: Hold on a moment.

Lieutenant: I would like to than—

Brenda: (Glaring at him so that he recoils.) Excuse me, sir; what part of “Hold on a moment” do you not understand? When I am ready to listen I will look at you and give you my undivided attention. If I appear at all busy to you, as I am now, you will kindly wait until I am ready to listen. Understand?

Lieutenant: (In a small voice.) Yes, mom. I mean ma’am.

(There is a literal five seconds before Brenda turns to him.)

Brenda: Now you may speak.

Lieutenant: (Adjusting his collar) T-thank you for the care of His Majesty’s soldiers.

Brenda: Yeah, uh…when are they leaving? Because they’ve made a mess of my front porch, and paint prices have gone up like you wouldn’t believe. Next thing they’ll be eating all my food, and I need to get to the grocery store; all we have are stale Graham Crackers—

(Another horse whinnies unnaturally loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. Some more dramatic music plays as Tavington rides up. Brenda puts a hand on her heart, eyes wide and breath shortening.)

Brenda: Oh, my…

Tavington: Lieutenant, have a detachment take our wounded to our surgeons in Winnsboro.
Brenda: (Muttering) Finally…

Tavington: Fire the house and barns.

Abigale: Oh, no he didn’t…

Tavington: Let it be known that if you harbor the enemy, you will lose your home.

(As he accepts the dispatches, Brenda crosses her arms over her chest, intimidating the soldiers.)

Tavington: Who carried these?

(Predictably, no one responds.)

Tavington: WHO CARRIED THESE?!

Brenda: I’ll thank you not to raise your voice in my presence, buddy.

(Before an argument can start, Gabriel hurries over and puts on his coat.)

Gabriel: Oh, uh, I did. I, uh, don’t know these people at all…they took me in. They were forced to. So don’t…burn down the house or anything.

Tavington: Yeah...arrest him.

Brenda: Listen up, junior: I don’t care what your little rulebook says; you’re not allowed to hold men as spies when they are clearly dispatch riders—

Tavington: Point taken. That’s why we’re going to hang him, not hold him.

(Everyone gasps.)

Abigale: Oh hell no…

Brenda: Uh, excuse me? Didn’t your mother ever give you a lesson in—?

Tavington: (Drawing out his gun.) Would you like a lesson, madam?

(Brenda rushes to cover everyone, though her arm-span is obviously not wide enough to shield any of them.)

Brenda: Uh, no, not really.

To Save Time and Energy that the Authoress does not Feel Like Using, She is Going to Skip Over Thomas’s Death and Will Pick Up at the Ultra-Gory Fight Scene in the Next Chapter.