WITH THE MUSTACHE PROUDLY ON!

  

---

WITH THE MUSTACHE PROUDLY ON!

(A Political Slapstick Farce in One Act)

CHARACTERS:

• LYSIS (40s): The leader. Sharp, fierce, with a commanding, gritty Texan/Western accent. She wears a gigantic fake mustache that keeps ungluing because she laughs too hard.
• CONGRESSMAN BRAD "THE LOBBY" (50s): Portly, wearing an incredibly expensive three-piece suit. He smells of imported whiskey and illicit campaign funds.
• CONGRESSMAN CHAD "THE FILIBUSTER" (40s): A master at breaking records for sleeping on the House floor. He carries his official Capitol privacy pillow.
• GENERAL SMITH (60s): Capital Capitol Security Chief. Hysterical, paranoid, wearing a uniform covered in cheap, fake medals that look like soda can tabs.
• COMBATANT WOMEN (2 actresses): Armed with brooms, frying pans, and ridiculous protest signs.
• THE DONUT DELIVERY GUY (Extra / Comodín): Walks in trying to collect cash for the caucus snacks.

---

ACT I

At the rise of the curtain, CONGRESSMAN BRAD is fast asleep at his desk, snoring like a broken chainsaw, tucked up to his nose under a massive American flag. Next to him, CONGRESSMAN CHAD is fast asleep, hugging his official Capitol pillow, drooling slightly over a leather-bound copy of the Constitution.

BRAD
(Waking up with a jolt, throwing a stack of fake bills into the air)
I vote nay! I vote nay on cutting the budget for the military branch's private golf courses! Oh... wait... sorry, Chad... it was just a horrible nightmare. Man, what a hangover. That Cuban cigar I smoked last night at the private club must have been laced with public education infrastructure funds.

CHAD
(Without opening his eyes, scratching his belly under his jacket)
Don't talk so loud, Brad, you’re ruining my legislative inspiration. What you smoked last night was the veterans' pension fund. God, serving the country is exhausting! I’ve been sitting here approving invisible amendments for four hours, and the right hemisphere of my brain has gone completely numb.

BRAD
Hey, when is the congressional donut delivery guy getting here? If I don't get a three-story glazed donut topped with bacon right now, I won't have the mental capacity to draft the bill on the food crisis. The average citizen demands that we are well-fed to represent them with dignity!

CHAD
(Scoffing)
Ah, the average citizen! Those wonderful taxpayers who work so we can have five estates in Florida, three hybrid cars we never drive, and four ex-wives suing us for every dime of alimony... God bless America and its tax deduction system!

(Suddenly, the grand back doors of the House floor burst open with a loud metallic slam. LYSIS marches in, followed by her group of women. They are wearing heavy detective overcoats, stetson cowboy hats, and fake mustaches so large and bushy they look like push-brooms).

CHAD
(Jumping in his seat, putting the pillow over his head like a helmet)
Holy pork barrel, Brad! The Green New Deal protesters are storming the building! Hide the American Express Black cards and the platinum watches, fast!

LYSIS
(With a deep, gravelly voice, walking with a cowboy swagger)
Silence, you caucus of corporate parasites! We are the new ultra-independent parliamentary faction from the Comadres District. We just marched from the local supermarket to bring order and disinfect this swamp of lobbyists.

BRAD
(Standing up arrogantly, adjusting his collar)
Hold your horses, you union intruders! You can’t just walk onto the House floor and hold session! To sit in these seats, you need to have survived at least three televised smear campaigns and own a shell company in the Cayman Islands! Out of the Capitol!

LYSIS
(Smiling mischievously, crossing her arms)
Oh, really? Well, we have a constitutional verdict you won't be able to table. Girls, drop the patriotic camouflage!

(Physical Action: The women rip off their overcoats and fake mustaches in one swift motion and fling them right at the Congressmen's faces. Brad ends up with the mustache stuck to his forehead, and Chad gets his on his bald spot).

CHAD
(Screaming in panic, trying to peel the hair off his forehead)
Oh, my God! They are women! It’s a gender-balanced coup d'état with a high estrogen content! Call the FBI!

LYSIS
You bet, you absolute heirs of immunity! And today, we are taking the podium by hook, by crook, or by worst-case scenario!

BRAD
(Screaming into his desk microphone)
Point of order! Section Four of the House Rules clearly states that the Speaker's chair belongs to me by political inheritance! I demand the right of rebuttal!

LYSIS
(Lets out a loud laugh that screeches through the theater speakers)
Oh, Brad! The rules also state you can't accept cash donations from tobacco companies, and look at your teeth—they are yellow as corn!

(Physical Action: LYSIS leaps onto the high Speaker’s podium and grabs a massive wooden gavel).

LYSIS
The year-long sabbatical session is officially adjourned! From now on, the women of the nation write the budget and the legislative agenda!

(Physical Action: A COMBATANT WOMAN snatches the pillow from Chad and whacks him upside the head with it, knocking him off his chair. Another woman runs to the control panel and shuts off the main lights, leaving only a bright red spotlight on Lysis).

BRAD
(Wailing on the floor, throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler)
Nooo! Not the screens! The Super Bowl was about to start! We had bets placed with the Senate!

LYSIS
(Slams the massive gavel onto the desk, cracking a folder in half: CRASH!)
First extraordinary decree of the new era of the payback! It is hereby forbidden for any congressman, senator, or secretary of state to own more than one modest middle-class home, one four-cylinder car, and one official family! If you own summer mansions, they are being confiscated to build public community kitchens and twenty-four-hour daycares!

CHAD
(Clutched his chest, crawling across the carpet)
Nooooo! My estate in the Hamptons! My oil stocks! My three private secretaries traveling on the taxpayers' dime! This is pure proctological socialism! Help!

LYSIS
And the worst part, gentlemen of the good life! As of tomorrow morning, your VIP government healthcare is canceled. You will have to go stand in line at the public community clinic at five in the morning just to have a grumpy nurse hand you a generic aspirin! Now, let the real cleaning crew in!

(The other COMBATANT WOMAN rushes in dragging metallic trash cans that make a horrible noise, brooms, and massive kitchen pots. They dump floral aprons over the Congressmen's suits and force them to sweep the floor at frying-pan point).

---

ACT II: HOMELAND SECURITY HAS ARRIVED

(A comedic, high-pitched toy police whistle blows. GENERAL SMITH enters, his uniform stuffed with absurd badges and soda can tabs, holding a neon-green plastic toy gun that makes spacey laser noises: Piu, piu, piu!).

GENERAL SMITH
(With a hoarse, deep voice like a low-budget action movie general)
In the name of the Capitol Super-Secure, Armored, and Counter-Terrorism Security Detail! Freeze, everyone! This farce is officially canceled due to a breach of the First Amendment of my holy will!

LYSIS
(Crossing her arms from the top of the podium, looking at him with pity)
Oh, my dear General Smith! Aren't you just a little bit ashamed? Coming in here to restore constitutional order with a plastic toy gun while the country's highways look like the surface of the moon from all the potholes?

GENERAL SMITH
(Looking at his gun, deeply offended)
Hey, watch it, lady, this is an official issue sidearm! Well... I did take it from my grandson's toy box before leaving the house, but the rubber band snaps incredibly hard if I aim for your eyes. Surrender or I fire!

(A COMBATANT WOMAN sneaks up stealthily behind General Smith like a kitchen ninja. She pulls out a giant green neon water blaster and presses it directly against the back of his neck).

COMBATANT WOMAN 1
Hands up, my chocolate General! Drop the toy or I’ll redecorate your dress uniform with orange juice concentrate!

GENERAL SMITH
(Turns completely pale, drops his plastic gun, and raises his hands trembling)
Good grief! A hydraulic terrorist attack! I am the highest national security authority in Washington D.C.!

COMBATANT WOMAN 2
(Runs in, slaps his military hat off, and puts a yellow checkered chef’s hat on him)
Your authority just depreciated faster than tech stocks, General! Start sweeping the aisle right now—there’s too much dust from crooked deals accumulated under this rug!

(GENERAL SMITH sits on the floor, crying in pure frustration as he cleans the desk legs with an old duster. LYSIS leans back in the massive Speaker's chair and glares directly at the audience).

LYSIS
Alright, congressmen of the entitlement caucus! Line up for the official press photo of the new regime!

---

PARABASIS: THE TRUTH BOMB

(The stage lights shift to a harsh, uncomfortable amber tone. The CONGRESSMEN stand in a line at the front of the stage, wearing their floral aprons and holding their brooms with faces of deep disgust. The WOMEN stand behind them, looking triumphant. LYSIS steps forward to the edge of the stage, breaking the fourth wall completely, and addresses the audience with a cynical, biting, defiant smile).

LYSIS
(To the audience, pointing with the wooden gavel)
Look at you... yeah, all of you sitting very comfortably in those theater seats, laughing at these ridiculous men in suits. It’s so easy to come to the theater to applaud the revenge of the housewives and mock corrupt politicians, isn't it? Especially when the farce happening out there in the real world is three times more shameless—and you pay for it in full on your tax bills every single month!

You laugh at these lazy men because they use public money to buy mansions, and you laugh at us because we use a broom and a frying pan to strip them of their immunity. But don't act all holy and play the victim. In this country, we are Olympic champions at complaining about the government over Saturday dinner, and come Monday morning, we are sliding a twenty-dollar bill to the traffic officer so he doesn't ticket us for speeding!

(She takes off her cowboy hat and uses it to fan herself)

Look closely at these two choruses: the wealthy men crying because we took away their luxury cars, and the fierce women holding the law in their aprons. You are looking at the exact same thing: the perfect reflection of our beautiful civic culture of "let’s see who can screw who first." A country doesn't change just because women hold the congressional gavel or because husbands wash the dishes. It changes the day we stop admiring the guy who cheats the system just because "he sprinkles a little bit of the prize on us." Stop looking for saviors of the nation with mustaches or with skirts. How about you stop littering, pay your taxes without cheating on your declaration, and stop cutting the line at the supermarket? Your own behind comes first, sure, but your integrity comes right after! This session is officially adjourned, you parasites!

(LYSIS delivers one final, brutal gavel strike to the podium. The congressmen jump in terror, dropping their brooms. All the women aggressively flip the bird or blow a loud raspberry at the audience as the curtain crashes down at maximum speed).

EXTRA-FAST CURTAIN

 

 

 

 

Honorable cámara de las mujeres.

 

  

Honorable cámara de las mujeres.

 

_________________________________

Autor:  Benjamin Gavarre

 

________________________________________________________________

 

© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA

benjamingavarre@filos.unam.mx

 

 _____________________________

 

Personajes 

 

• LYSIS (40 años): La líder. Astuta, norteña, entrona. Usa un bigote postizo que se le despega a cada rato de la risa.
• DIPUTADO "EL CHILANGUÍN" (50 años): Panzón, traje de marca brilloso. Fuma puros que le regalan las constructoras.
• DIPUTADO "EL CHAQUETÓN" (40 años): Experto en dormir en las sesiones más importantes. Carga una almohada oficial.
• GENERAL SUÁREZ (60 años): Jefe de seguridad del recinto. Histérico, miedoso, con un uniforme lleno de medallas de chocolate.
• MUJERES COMBATIENTES (2 actrices): Armadas con escobas, sartenes y pancartas que dicen cosas absurdas.
• EL TAQUERO (Comodín): Entra a cobrar los tacos de la bancada.

 

ESCENARIO:
El Pleno de la Cámara de Diputados. Una mesa de presídium alta con un mazo gigante de madera. Curules con micrófonos, botellas de agua rellenadas con Coca-Cola o algún “licor”, carpetas y una manta rota colgada que dice: "Sesión Solemne por el Propio Bien".

---

ACTO ÚNICO

Al abrirse el telón, el DIPUTADO CHILANGUÍN duerme con la boca abierta, escurriendo baba, roncando con sonido de motor descompuesto, usando una bandera de México como cobija. El DIPUTADO CHAQUETÓN se despierta de golpe, dándose un manotazo en la frente porque una mosca se le paró en la calva.

DIPUTADO CHILANGUÍN
(Despertando asustado, tirando los papeles al piso)
¡Voto en contra! ¡El bono es nuestro! ¡El bono es de quien lo trabaja! ¡Ah, no, perdón, compadre... fue una pesadilla! ¡Qué barbaridad, la que traigo! El puro que me fumé anoche estaba redondeado.

DIPUTADO CHAQUETÓN
(Acomodándose la panza, bostezando frente al micrófono abierto)
¡No compañero CHILANGUÍN! Lo que te fumaste fue el fondo de recuperación del terremoto, del último. ¡Ay, qué retiembla la patria en sus centros… de acopio, jaja! Llevo tres horas rascándome la panza y ya me dio como hambre de tripa, así bien doradita.

DIPUTADO CHILANGUÍN (Se hace bolas)
Oye, ¡Se me antojo! La tripa… Digo, … ya debería haber llegado el taquero! Una tripa doradita, si no, no me concentro, tú me entiendes, no me miras tan fijo… Ya sabes, para aprobar la reforma del hambre… contra el hambre… Ya déjame… contra el hambre. ¡La ciudadanía nos exige estar bien nutridos!

(De repente, las puertas traseras se abren con un estruendo. Entra LYSIS y su grupo de mujeres. Llevan gabardinas pesadas, sombreros vaqueros y unos bigotes postizos gigantescos que parecen cepillos).

DIPUTADO CHAQUETÓN
(Entrecerrando los ojos, asustado)
¡En la torre! ¡Ya llegaron los de la CNTE a bloquear el acceso! ¡Escondan las carteras y los Rolex, compadre!

LYSIS
(Con voz grave y afectada, caminando como cholo de barrio)
¡Silencio, bancada de parásitos! Somos la nueva fracción parlamentaria independiente. Venimos desde las entrañas de la Merced a poner orden en esta cloaca.

DIPUTADO CHILANGUÍN
(Levantándose soberbio, acomodándose la corbata)
¡A ver, jovencitos! ¡Aquí no entra cualquiera a legislar! ¡Para sentarse en estas curules se necesita haber robado... digo, haber ganado una elección limpia de tres millones de votos limpios! Muy limpios…  ¡Fuera!

LYSIS
(Sonriendo con malicia)
¿Ah, sí? Pues nosotros traemos un argumento que no van a poder rechazar. ¡Muchachas, quítense el camuflaje nacional!

 

(Acción física: Las mujeres se arrancan los sombreros vaqueros y los bigotes postizos de un solo jalón y se los avientan en la cara a los diputados. Los diputados se quedan con los bigotes pegados en la frente o en los ojos).

 

DIPUTADO CHAQUETÓN
(Gritando de pánico, tratando de quitarse el bigote de la frente)
¡Cielos! ¡Son mujeres! ¡Es un golpe de Estado con perspectiva de género! ¡Auxilio!

LYSIS
¡Así es, señores herederos del fuero! ¡Y hoy tomamos la tribuna por las buenas o por las malas!

DIPUTADO CHILANGUÍN
¡Pero la Ley Orgánica del Congreso dice textualmente que el presídium es mío! ¡Tengo derecho de réplica!

LYSIS
(Suelta una risotada que satura el micrófono)
¡Ay, diputado! ¡La ley también dice que ustedes no pueden meter las manos a la supuesta “caja chica” y miren cómo tienen las uñas largas y los bolsillos llenos! (Se sube de un salto al presídium y agarra el mazo gigante de madera). ¡Se acabó la sesión de la hueva! ¡A partir de hoy, las mujeres de la patria controlamos la tribuna!

 

(Acción física: Una MUJER COMBATIENTE le quita la almohada al Diputado CHAQUETÓN y le da un almohadazo que lo tira de la silla. Otra mujer apaga las luces del pleno, dejando solo un foco rojo sobre LYSIS).

 

DIPUTADO CHILANGUÍN
(Lloriqueando en el piso)
¡Nooo! ¡Apagaron la tele! ¡Iba a empezar el partido! ¡Ya son los octavos!

LYSIS
(Da un mazazo en la mesa que rompe una carpeta de madera: ¡CRASH!)
¡Primer decreto de esta nueva y ahora sí honorable legislatura! ¡Los diputados, senadores o líderes de partido estarán obligados a rendir cuentas de cada gasto que tengan. Se revisará su estado de cuenta y no podrán gastar más de cien pesos al día. No podrán tener más de un auto, ni más de una casa de interés social, ni más de una mujer (esposa o lo que sea).

DIPUTADO CHAQUETÓN
(Gritando con las manos en el pecho, fingiendo un infarto)
¡Nooooo! ¡Mis propiedades en Cancún! ¡Mis camionetas blindadas! ¡Mis tres viejas secretas! ¡Esto es comunismo descarado!

LYSIS
¡Y escúchenme bien, señores! ¡A partir de mañana, se les cancela el seguro de gastos médicos mayores y van a tener que ir a hacer fila al IMSS y al ISSSTE antes de las cuatro de la mañana para que les den ficha! ¡Vamos a barrer las escaleras de arriba a abajo!

(Entra la otra MUJER COMBATIENTE arrastrando botes de basura, escobas y ollas de pozole vacías. Le ponen un mandado de flores a los diputados y los obligan a barrer el piso bajo amenaza de darles con el palo de la escoba).

---

ESCENA 2: LA LLEGADA DEL SERVICIO DE "SEGURIDAD"

(Se escucha el sonido cómico de un silbato de policía de juguete. Entra el GENERAL SUÁREZ, con el uniforme lleno de corcholatas como si fueran medallas, sosteniendo una pistola de plástico que hace ruidos de luces láser al agitarse).

GENERAL SUÁREZ
(Con voz ronca de fumador de rancho)
¡En nombre del Servicio de Seguridad Súper Secreta y Blindada de la Cámara! ¡Manos arriba todo el mundo! ¡Queda suspendida la sesión por desacato al orden constitucional!

LYSIS
(Cruzándose de brazos desde arriba del presídium)
¡Ay, mi General Suárez! ¿No le da vergüenza? ¿Viene a amenazarnos con esa pistolita de juguete mientras el país tiene serios problemas de corrupción y desigualdad social inaceptable?

GENERAL SUÁREZ
(Mirando su pistola, confundido)
¡Óigame, mi pistolita no es de juguete! Y no es pistolita, mujer. Es una escuadra reglamentaria de cargo... Y vaya que sí truena. ¡Ríndanse!

(Una MUJER COMBATIENTE se desliza sigilosamente por detrás del General Suárez. Saca una pistola de agua gigante de plástico verde y se la planta directamente en la nuca).

MUJER COMBATIENTE 1
¡Manos arriba, mi General! ¡Suelte el fierro o le redecoro el uniforme con agüita amarilla!

GENERAL SUÁREZ
(Se pone pálido, levanta las manos, tirando la pistola al piso)
¡Cielos! ¡Es un atentado al honor! ¡Yo soy la máxima autoridad de la seguridad nacional del palacio, no me puede echar orines!

MUJER COMBATIENTE 2
(Entra corriendo, le quita el sombrero militar de un manotazo y le pone un delantal de cocina de cuadritos amarillos)
¡Su autoridad ya nadie la respeta, General! Usted solo se dedica a comer tacos y pambazos. ¡A barrer la tribuna, a barrer de arriba a abajo tanta corrupción y tanto cinismo!

 

(El GENERAL SUÁREZ se sienta en el suelo a llorar de frustración mientras barre con un plumero viejo. LYSIS se acomoda en la silla del Presidente de la Cámara y mira fijamente al público).

 

LYSIS
¡A ver, diputados lloricones! ¡Se me paran al frente para la foto oficial Vamos a registrar la nueva Era, la era de nosotras y nosostros!

---

(La luz del escenario cambia a un tono ámbar. Los DIPUTADOS se paran en fila al frente del escenario, usando sus delantales y sosteniendo las escobas con cara de fuchi. Las MUJERES se paran detrás de ellos, triunfantes. LYSIS se adelanta al proscenio, rompe la cuarta pared por completo y mira fijamente al público con una sonrisa cínica y pícara).

 

LYSIS
(Al público, con los brazos en jarras)
A ver, ustedes... sí, ustedes los que están sentados en las butacas riéndose del ridículo de estos señores. Qué fácil es reírse de la Cámara de Diputados en el teatro, ¿verdad? Cuando la realidad allá afuera es una farsa tres veces más cara y con cargo a sus tarjetas de crédito.

Se ríen de los políticos panzones porque usan el presupuesto para comprarse camionetas, y se ríen de nosotras porque nos desquitamos con sartenes y escobazos para poner orden. Pero no se hagan los santos, que en este país somos especialistas en quejarnos del gobierno en el café del sábado, y el lunes andamos dándole su mordida al policía de tránsito para que no nos lleve al corralón.

(Se quita el sombrero vaquero y se limpia la frente)

Miren a estos dos coros: los hombres llorones que extrañan sus bonos de marcha, y las mujeres entronas que traen la escoba en la mano. Son lo mismo, el reflejo exacto de nuestra bonita cultura del "gandallismo" nacional. Un país no cambia porque las mujeres tengan el mazo o porque los hombres usen delantal. Cambia el día en que dejemos de aplaudirle al que tranza con tal de que "se moche". Dejemos de buscar héroes con bigote o heroínas con sartén; mejor dejen de tirar basura en la calle, paguen sus impuestos sin truco y dejen de meterse en todas las filas que puedan. ¡El trasero es primero, sí, pero hay que tener tantita madre! ¡Se levanta la sesión, culebras!

 

(LYSIS da un último mazazo brutal en la mesa del presídium. Los diputados saltan del susto y tiran las escobas. Todas las mujeres le pintan un violín gigante al público mientras el telón cae de golpe a toda velocidad).

 

TELÓN EXTRA-RÁPIDO

 

 

 

 

 

A SECURE POSITION: A Medical Farce, Absurd and Uncontrolled.

 

 

 

A SECURE POSITION

A Medical Farce, Absurd and Uncontrolled

By GAVARRE BENJAMIN

 

 ______________________________________________________________________

 

© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA

benjamingavarre@filos.unam.mx

 

 ______________________________________________________________________

 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

CHARACTERS

 

CASPER (40s): Timid. Possesses a thousand neuroses. Hypochondriacal, excessively modest, deeply naive. Wearing seven overcoats.

MRS. GERTRUDE (60s): Intrusive, well-meaning, illogical, and borderline insufferable at all times.

VALENTINE (30s): Anxious, in the throes of severe withdrawal. Opportunistic, cynical, yet strangely charming and likable... sometimes.

MISS CHRISTINA: The receptionist who is never at her desk, which is why every single patient just walks right into Dr. Tafoya’s private office.

_____________________________________________________________________

 

SETTING

A medical office of surrealist design. A desk features a vintage, clunky computer in an impossible neon color, a cartoonishly oversized prescription pad, and a vase filled with bright, colorful tulips. To the left, a three-panel privacy screen stands—paradoxically discrete amidst all the visual stimuli—partially hiding a clinical examination table. Doors lead to the waiting room and a supposedly gender-neutral restroom featuring hilarious, stylized male and female icons.

______________________________________________________________________

 

ONE-ACT PLAY

(The curtain rises. DR. TAFOYA, wearing an impeccable, mostly realistic lab coat with a subtle farcical touch, is attempting to diagnose CASPER, who remains with all seven overcoats buttoned tightly to his chin and his arms crossed).

 

DR. TAFOYA

Mr. Casper, please understand that I am not a psychic. If you claim you have prostate cancer, then I am legally and medically required to perform a digital rectal exam. Take off your clothes.

 

CASPER

Doctor, my mother taught me that a man only undresses before God and his bedroom mirror. You just tell me what’s wrong with me and write the prescription; that’s all I’m asking of you.

 

DR. TAFOYA

(With a dangerously calm smile)

Oh, naturally. Of course. Forgive me. Let us employ the method of proctological telepathy... How dare you! I am a professional with solid ethical values. I cannot just hand out prescriptions blindly. I need to check if there is an actual tumor, or if it's merely a typical inflammation found in gentlemen of your age. Let us try a clinical relaxation exercise. (Takes Casper by the shoulders, guiding him behind the screen toward the examination table) Imagine we are on an airplane. We are experiencing severe turbulence. To avoid impact, the airline strictly requires you to adopt the secure position.

 

CASPER

A secure position?

 

DR. TAFOYA

Precisely. Unmovable, remarkably comfortable. Place your hands flat on the table, bend your knees, and elevate your pelvis toward the northeast. It is standard civil aviation procedure.

 

CASPER

(Doubtful, but climbing onto the table)

Well... if it’s truly that comfortable... (He gets on all fours, back to the audience, partially hidden by the screen, but with his overcoats lifted, revealing ridiculous long woolen underwear) Like this, Doctor?

 

DR. TAFOYA (Snapping on a latex glove with a loud pop) Perfect. Maintain your heading and do not look back at the cockpit. I shall fetch the lubricant.

 

CASPER

What did you say?! Lu-bri-cant?! No, for mercy's sake, no!

 

(The Doctor turns to his desk to look for the gel. At that exact moment, the door bursts open. MRS. GERTRUDE marches in, walking with short, agonizingly rigid steps).

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

Doctor! It’s an emergency! My hemorrhoids have declared war, and I demand an armistice in the form of suppositories!

 

DR. TAFOYA

(Startled, quickly hiding his gloved hand behind his back)

Madam! I am in the middle of a highly sensitive procedure! Back away!

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

(Ignoring him, walking straight toward the screen)

Sensitive? Oh, I know all about that. (She shamelessly peers over the edge of the screen) Good heavens! What a hilarious-looking camel.

 

CASPER

(Frozen in panic, motionless)

Doctor! I feel a terribly shameless draft! Shoo! Shoo! Don't look at me!

 

DR. TAFOYA

Mrs. Gertrude, respect the chaste rear-end of this man!

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

(Analyzing Casper)

He looks like a multi-layered pastry. (To Casper) What is your name, young man?

 

CASPER

(Flustered, docile despite himself, completely lost)

My name is Casper! Why?! Who are you?!

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

A humble Good Samaritan. You know, mister, you really should practice better hygiene... That’s exactly how I got these giant hemorrhoids, because I really don't like wiping all that much... And that’s also why my prostate got inflamed, just like yours.

 

(The door opens again. VALENTINE enters in an elegant tuxedo, dragging his feet, with an aristocratic paleness and half-closed eyes).

 

VALENTINE

Doctor... I can no longer function without my painkillers. I am in full-blown withdrawal. I’m losing my mind. For the love of God, give me a prescription. I'll pay you for it. Look at me, I can't endure this cruel existence. Certified opioid painkillers. Just give me a blank prescription—well, with your signature—and I will never bother you again, I swear it.

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

(To Valentine, pointing behind the screen)

Look here, young man, this is much better than painkillers... this is the most entertaining thing to lift your spirits. Come see this. The doctor has a camel on all fours... with its tail lifted high!

 

VALENTINE

(Attracted by the magic word: painkiller... walks over as if hypnotized behind the screen, standing next to Mrs. Gertrude)

You take them too?! Will you share? (Really impressed by what he sees) Wow... this is certainly intriguing. (To Casper, obsessively) Excuse me, sir, do they prescribe you opioid painkillers too? Can I have your prescription slips?

 

CASPER

(Screaming, burying his face in his hands) Doctor! I am not a circus freak! Come over here and do whatever it is you have to do, but get these two out of here!

 

(DR. TAFOYA has been simmering like a pressure cooker, unable to believe his eyes. He stares at the three lunatics from a distance. The latex glove is still on. Suddenly, he stops. His eyes widen. A low, nervous laughter begins to escape his chest. He starts laughing with ice-cold sarcasm, clapping his gloved hands softly).

 

DR. TAFOYA

Oh, of course! Life is testing me. This is a rite of passage; I can see it clearly now. How marvelous! What a phenomenological Altar I have the fortune of contemplating! (He rips off the glove in a fury and hurls it into the flower vase) Tell you what, Mr. Casper, stay just like that, don't move a muscle! After all, if you want to be diagnosed fully dressed, perfect! Personally, I have absolutely no interest in viewing the... piece of swollen meat you hide beneath those maniacal layers of fabric. Stay on all fours like a camel; it gives the office a delightfully exotic ambiance.

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

Doctor, your poor animal is a lost cause... He has a terminal case of multi-layered pastry cancer, I can certify it because I had the exact same thing... Better attend to me, because my prostate has grown back again.

 

DR. TAFOYA (Now in a state of sheer, contained madness... turning to her with an incredibly exaggerated bow) But of course, Mrs. Gertrude! How could I forget! The anatomy of the prostate is a flawless, stylized, natural thing... in a lady! And it always regenerates... especially in hermaphrodites! That’s it! You possess two genders... You are half donkey and half sheep! A true miracle of biology and zoology. That is why you have a prostate, bushy eyebrows, three kidneys, rogue hairs, an invisible beard, and a calling to be a "humble Good Samaritan," as you so eloquently put it. What beauty, what a marvel of human... nature... Congratulations!

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

(Stupefied)

All of that... A hermaphrodite? So I am a miracle?! Well, that’s great news!

 

DR. TAFOYA

(Ignoring her, lunging toward Valentine)

And you, my dear Valentine! What exquisite, imported elegance to come here begging for prescriptions to get high with the official seal of the State. Why settle for diluted opium? Why not go straight for fentanyl? Or better yet, some certified holy herb! Brew yourself a tea and leave me in peace. (Grabbing his prescription pad, completely unhinged) Actually, no... You know what? Let’s all get high. Let’s hand out prescriptions so the whole world can enjoy themselves and have religious experiences... and we’ll dress in seamless robes and hallucinate together with anyone who follows us!

 

VALENTINE

(Interested)

That sounds like a highly acceptable therapeutic proposal, Doctor. Are there any seamless robes available?

 

DR. TAFOYA

(Screaming deliriously, but cutting himself off)

No! Yes! But only priests can wear them! No! Yes! You know what?!... I’ll just give you the whole pad! (Slams the prescription pad against VALENTINE’S chest) Take it. It’s yours. Okay? Deal? Farewell, adieu, I am vanishing into thin air! I am utterly sick of working with lost-cause patients, I am utterly sick of you all! Sick of inspecting dirty rear-ends that have never received the light of the sun!

 

CASPER

(Peeking out, terrified)

Are you leaving, Doctor? How do I get down from this airplane?

 

DR. TAFOYA

You stay right there until I land in Tibet, Mr. Casper! I’ve made up my mind. I am detaching myself from this society: I am going to Tibet to become a Buddhist! It is decided! I’ll shave my head, put on a seamed saffron robe, and head to the Himalayas where absolutely nobody, absolutely nobody, possesses an anus, a rectum, a prostate, or a hypocritical addiction! Goodbye to the flesh! Goodbye to smelly rear-ends! Let’s all go to Tibet!

 

(Dr. Tafoya rips off his lab coat in one violent motion, flings it right onto Mrs. Gertrude’s face, grabs his briefcase, and runs out the waiting room door, screaming disjointed Buddhist mantras: "Om Om Ommmm, mani padme hum, damn it!").

 

(A long silence. CASPER remains on all fours on the examination table. MRS. GERTRUDE pulls the lab coat off her head. VALENTINE stares at the prescription pad).

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

Well... he certainly sounded very confident about Tibet. The climate up there must be wonderful for circulation. I believe it’s always snowing and they have cows.

 

VALENTINE

(Tearing a page from the pad)

Definitely. Lots of snowy mountains... though I think it’s mostly goats... Prescriptions, so many virgin, wonderful prescriptions. (Hands the page to Mrs. Gertrude) Here you go, madam. Signed by the new Dalai Lama himself. This should solve all your major true or false problems.

 

MRS. GERTRUDE

(Taking the prescription with devotion)

Oh, thank you, sweet boy. What a blessing it is to be around educated youth. (Turns toward the screen, pleasantly) Come along, Mr. Casper, step down from the aircraft, that’s enough. Or are you starting to like it, you pervert, you degenerate?... Just kidding, it’s a joke... You know I’m a Good Samaritan, the Dalai Lama said so himself... Come on, donuts are on me! There’s a place with delicious chocolate-glazed ones, and we can find some belladonna ointments and multi-layered pastries with pure maple syrup. They go straight to your hips, but they make you see life through different eyes—through the eyes of miracles.

 

CASPER

(Climbing down from the table with difficulty, adjusting his clothes) Well... yeah, that actually sounds great. I don't even feel any discomfort anymore. I think what I really need is a rich, delicious chocolate-glazed donut; that is an unquestionable truth.

 

VALENTINE

My thoughts exactly. Definitely. Unquestionable.

 

(Valentine sits at the doctor's desk, kicks his feet up on the table with total abandonment, and happily begins signing blank prescriptions with a blissful smile, while Mrs. Gertrude exits the office arm-in-arm with Casper, who walks like a tired, bow-legged cowboy, overflowing with timidity).

 

CURTAIN