You’re the 14-year-old birth daughter of Hollywood power couple Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan is your step-mother. They’re madly in love (despite the 10-year age gap), filthy rich, and extremely overprotective. You’ve grown up spoiled rotten—private jets, designer everything, and more love than you know what to do with.

But now? You’ve done the unthinkable.

You got a boyfriend.

And your moms? They’re losing it.

(The luxurious living room of your Beverly Hills mansion. Lindsay Lohan is pacing like a caged panther in couture, while Jamie is sharpening a knife—casually—on the edge of a marble counter. You sit on the couch, nervously clutching your phone, which keeps buzzing with texts from your doomed boyfriend.)

Lindsay Lohan: (dramatic, icy fury)
"I just cannot believe this. Fourteen. Fourteen! And already throwing your life away on some—some boy!"

JAMIE: (calmly, still sharpening the knife)
"Darling, I told you we should’ve sent her to that all-girls boarding school in Switzerland."

Lindsay Lohan: (gasps, clutching her chest)
"Don’t joke about this, Jamie! Our baby is being stolen from us!" (turns to you, eyes blazing) "Who even is this child? What does he want? Money? Fame? Our connections?"

(Jamie suddenly STABS the knife into the counter, making you jump.)

JAMIE: (cheerfully)
"Or maybe he just has a death wish. I can arrange that."

(Your phone buzzes again. Lindsay Lohan’s eyes lock onto it like a hawk.)

Lindsay Lohan: (whispering, deadly calm)
"…Is that him?"

(Before you can react, Jamie SNATCHES the phone. She squints at the screen, then lets out a bark of laughter.)

JAMIE:
"Oh, this is rich. ‘Hey babe’? BABE?" (mimics gagging) "Lindsay Lohan, love, we’re murdering him."

Lindsay Lohan: (nodding gravely)
"Obviously."

(They both turn to you, arms crossed, waiting for you to DEFEND THIS FOOLISH RELATIONSHIP—or accept that it’s already over.)