martes, 2 de junio de 2026

MARTIANS AT UCLA.

 

 

MARTIANS AT UCLA

THE PRANKSTER PRANKED

By Gavarre Benjamin


 

© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA

Contact this address if you have produced it or wish to do so: gavarreunam@gmail.com

 


 

"Martians at UCLA" is a fast-paced, witty college comedy about who really holds the upper hand on campus. Leo and Ben, two lazy undergrads looking for a quick laugh and social media fame, design what they think is the ultimate prank to humiliate Professor Harrington: a fake "alien encounter" in the dark, isolated bushes near Parking Structure 4. Armed with cheap special effects and a cellphone camera, they push the strict linguistics professor to his limits. However, in the game of campus wits, decades of academic experience might just have the ultimate counter-prank ready. A hilarious story proving that the oldest fox always knows the newest tricks.


 

MARTIANS AT UCLA

THE PRANKSTER PRANKED

 

SCENE I

SETTING: An outdoor hallway on the UCLA campus. Dusk.
(PROFESSOR HARRINGTON walks in, dragging a leather rolling briefcase overflowing with heavy textbooks, his travel coffee mug, and a container with his dinner).

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
Unbelievable. Three hours explaining Shakespearean syntax, and those kids stared at me as if I were a Star Wars hologram. God, I wish I only taught graduate school. Undergrads look like high schoolers—what am I saying, middle schoolers! And I am starving... Well, at least I’m out. I need to get to my car before the freeway traffic turns into a parking lot. Or before some student catches me with a last-minute request... One of these days, a student is going to sneak into my home shower just to hand in a late essay. And all that just to hope for a passing C grade. They are the epitome of mediocrity.

(ENTER LEO, walking slowly, staring at the concrete floor, feigning deep anguish).

LEO:
I don’t know... I don’t know what to do. What if I sell it on Craigslist? No, they might rob me at the meetup spot. What if I rent it out for a party at Frat Row? Or maybe I should just keep it and become a millionaire on social media...

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Annoyed, without stopping)
Leo. Please. I know you’ve been following me all the way from the Humanities building, even if you’re walking three paces behind me… I can smell your desperation. You smell like you’re about to ask for another extension on your homework. Don't waste my time with your existential crises; it's already late.

LEO:
Professor! I'm so glad I caught you. You’re exactly who I was looking for. See... I have something incredibly valuable in my possession, seriously, very cool, and I don’t know what to do. It’s wild, I swear.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Keeps walking toward the parking lot)
Leo, I know you. I'm sure this is another one of your scams. Did you already forget last semester when you wasted forty minutes of my time trying to sell me an "exotic wingless butterfly" that turned out to be a Chinese buffet shrimp coated in lacquer?

LEO:
It was a taxidermy butterfly, Professor! A collector's item. That was a misunderstanding; I got ripped off at the flea market too. But today’s thing is real. It’s mysterious and dangerous, but worth a fortune. I’d show you right here, but there are too many students and security cameras around. Why don't you come with me out back, by the dark bushes leading to Structure 4? Near the big trees where the campus lights don't reach.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Stops dead in his tracks and looks at him, narrowing his eyes)
Behind the campus hill? In the daytime, it’s a lovely green area to read, but at this hour of the night, it looks like the backdrop of a serial killer movie. There’s a huge difference, young man. That’s where wild raccoons attack people. Are you trying to mug me for my wallet or what?

LEO:
Oh, Professor, come on! If you want, I’ll just give it to you. Simply because you’re my favorite teacher.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Interested but maintaining his intellectual stance)
Uh-huh... Well... let’s not exaggerate. But I’m sure it’s nonsense. Stop wasting my time; my stomach is growling.

LEO:
Just listen to how I found it. I was walking through a dense forest, thick with heavy fog...

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
You are in West Los Angeles, Leo. There are only palm trees, squirrels, and the marine layer coming off the Santa Monica coast. You are not in the Amazon.

LEO:
Well, in the bushes behind the library, then. But it was right next to a pile of decomposing organic waste...

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
A pile of garbage?

LEO:
Rotting trash, Professor! The weird thing is, it was glowing with a fluorescent green light, and then it would turn off. Boom! Glow and turn off.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Scooffs)
Oh, Leo. It glows and turns off... It must be a garden firefly, genius. You got scared by a simple insect.

LEO:
It wasn't an insect; it was much bigger, and it moved on its own, as if it had its own artificial intelligence.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
I know, an old animatronic doll discarded from a Hollywood studio. And did it talk too?

LEO:
Yes! It talked, how did you know? I said, "Ugly doll, you're an idiot"... and the damn thing tried to be funny and repeated the exact same thing back to me in my own voice: "Ugly doll, you're an..."

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
Enough, enough, I get it. It must be a cheap toy with a clearance voice-recording chip. Once the battery dies, it’ll be completely useless. It’s cheap internet junk... that’s why it ended up in the trash.

LEO:
And how do you explain the green light coming out of its mouth?

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
Well, that’s just the design of the damn toy. Sometimes they have LED lights in their eyes, sometimes in their mouth... like a knockoff Buzz Lightyear.

LEO:
Professor...! Don't tell me you like Toy Story! You, so serious, such a distinguished scholar of Applied Linguistics.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
That is precisely why I am well-acquainted with slang and pop culture in this country, Leo. I don’t live under a rock in the desert. But you’re acting way too mysterious... Why?

LEO:
Because... I found it really bizarre that its head spun a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, and it stretched out its robotic arms for me to pick it up. And then, when it answered a direct question, that’s when I actually got goosebumps.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
What do you mean it answered you? Now you're just making up sci-fi stories.

LEO:
For real. It stared right at me and said, "I need a trustworthy adult with a tenured university position and a good credit score to come save me, because my ship crashed upon entering Earth's atmosphere."

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Feigning a mix of bewilderment and suspicion)
You’re pulling my leg. Either this is a cruel fraternity prank... or you’ve truly lost your mind from sleep deprivation.

LEO:
No, Professor. I agreed to meet him right now at eight o'clock, out back, by the dark trees of Structure 4. Come on... At this hour, there are no campus security guards around that area; it’s completely deserted.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Looks at his watch, feigning nervousness)
Look... it’s not that I believe you. It's just that you must be hallucinating from drinking too many energy drinks. But... let’s take a quick walk, just so you can calm down and stop bothering me. But first, let me stop by my car to drop off these heavy books in my backpack.

LEO: (As the professor opens his car trunk)
Professor, you do know that digital textbooks and cloud servers exist now, right?

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
So you can all just copy and paste on your screens? Or worse... so you can let an Artificial Intelligence write your essays? No way. Shut up and walk.

LEO:
Copying from AI? Never, Professor, never... well, maybe...

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
Walk!

(They both exit toward the darkness).


 

 

SCENE II

SETTING: The back of the campus, near Structure 4. An area surrounded by weeping willows, wild ivy bushes, and brick walls. It is pitch black. The wind from the Santa Monica coast blows hard through the branches. The place is completely deserted.

(ENTER: PROFESSOR HARRINGTON, lighting the path with his iPhone’s flashlight, and LEO).

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Trembling exaggeratedly, feigning panic)
Let’s see, Leo... Are you absolutely sure its skin was fluorescent green? You didn’t mention that when we were back in the hallway.

LEO:
Yes, Professor. Glowing green, with huge, bulging eyes, like a deer caught in headlights.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Terribly frightened, overacting)
Oh, my goodness... It could be an actual extraterrestrial creature... Heaven protect us.

LEO:
You know what, Professor? I think you already knew them. They’re like from your era, right? From back when you were in college in the eighties.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
Quiet, Leo! Look! Those ivy branches moved. And that is not the coastal wind. Something or someone is watching us from the bushes. This is madness, we should head back to the lit area.

(From inside the bushes, a voice distorted by a toy megaphone echoes).

VOICE OVER:
¡Leeeooo... Leeeooo!
Did you bring the trustworthy senior citizen with a good credit score that we asked for?

LEO: (Feigning terror, hiding behind the professor’s corduroy jacket)
Oh, no way! Professor, it spoke to me! And it said "we asked"! There are multiple ones, it's a freaking invasion!

VOICE OVER:
We are one and we are thousands... We know who flunks students on their essays just for fun...

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Faking absolute terror, dropping dramatically to his knees on the grass)
Leo, this has gone too far! This is a cosmic punishment! They want to set me up to record me with your phones, and I’m going to go viral on TikTok. I don’t want to be a viral meme, Leo, I'm warning you! My academic reputation on the West Coast has cost me decades of work!

LEO:
Professor, look! Something flew right over your head!

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
I didn’t see anything, you’re hallucinating!

LEO:
It buzzed like a giant hornet, I swear on my life.

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
A freaking drone! Or a bat! I didn’t see a single thing!

(Suddenly, a bright green light illuminates the bushes from below).

LEO: (Adopting a mystical tone and voice)
Professor, look at that celestial light! A quantum portal just opened in the tree. Everything in there is wonderful... it’s outer space, it’s Malibu with no traffic, Professor... It’s calling me... it tells me it’s my destiny. I have to go. If the dean asks for me, tell her I went to a better place. Not the cemetery, a better cosmic plane... you explain it to her. Thanks for everything, you were a great teacher, a great prof...

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
Leo, don’t be an idiot! Don’t go into the bushes! Stay here with me, don’t leave me alone in the dark! Leo!!

LEO:
I can’t, Professor. My planet needs me. I’ve been chosen. Goodbye!

(Leo walks gracefully, taking exaggerated slow-motion strides toward the green light. A sound like an old camera flash is heard, and the light shuts off completely. Everything falls into absolute silence).

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Feigning absolute panic)
Oh, my God! What on earth was that... I have just witnessed a real alien abduction... Leo? Leo!! This can’t be happening! No, no, no... Surely they’re coming for me next, and they’ll want to dissect me in their spaceship or harvest my organs... I have to save myself!

(The Professor runs with his travel mug in hand, limping exaggeratedly toward the brightly lit campus and screaming like a madman. He vanishes from the stage).

(Three seconds later, LEO and his sidekick BEN emerge from the bushes carrying a flashlight wrapped in green cellophane, an old studio flash, and a Bluetooth speaker. They are laughing hysterically, barely able to breathe, high-fiving each other).

LEO: (Lying on the grass, dying of laughter)
We did it, Ben! Did you hear him scream? The old man dropped to his knees like he was in a horror movie! “It must be cheap internet garbage,” the know-it-all used to say... "I don’t want to be a viral meme!" Hahaha... He swallowed it hook, line, and sinker! It was epic!

BEN: (Celebrating silently, fist-bumping Leo and showing him his iPhone screen)
It’s brilliant, Leo! The video looks amazing. But I just hope we don’t get busted if this video spreads across the department...

LEO:
Oh, come on, Ben, don’t be a coward like the professor! Listen... Tomorrow I’m going to blackmail him with an anonymous text: "Either you give me a perfect 'A' in the class, or this video goes straight to the university meme pages." (Looking at the phone screen) He looks so ridiculous... We’re going to break the algorithm, seriously. Oh, Professor, honestly...

(Suddenly, a deafening, metallic, and piercing sound cuts the students' laughter short. It is the dreaded siren of a UCPD (University of California Police Department) patrol car echoing through the area, followed by the static of a high-powered loudspeaker).

VOICE OVER SPEAKER (OFF): (A gruff, authoritative voice with an official American law enforcement accent)
"ATTENTION, STUDENTS. THIS IS CAMPUS SECURITY / UCPD. YOU ARE IN A RESTRICTED AREA AFTER HOURS. YOU HAVE BEEN SPOTTED BY SURVEILLANCE CAMERAS COMMITTING ACTS OF EXTORTION, TRESPASSING, AND PROPERTY DAMAGE. DO NOT MOVE AND PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

LEO: (Stunned, completely pale)
What...? Ben... campus police? We’re going to get expelled from the university!

BEN: (In total panic, swats the iPhone out of Leo's hand, slamming it to the ground)
Screw this, Leo! Patrol cars are coming! Let's move, let's move! They’re coming!

(Leo and Ben, completely terrified, leave all their gear scattered on the grass and sprint away at top speed in the opposite direction, tripping over branches and screaming in fear).

(The police siren shuts off. Absolute silence falls. From behind the trunk of a massive campus tree, PROFESSOR HARRINGTON steps out. He has a triumphant, ear-to-ear grin, and in his hand, he holds the portable megaphone he just used to fake the police voice).

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON: (Turns off the megaphone, walks to the center of the stage, and picks up the green toy, the cellophane flashlight, and the iPhone the students left behind)
Well, well, well... So "the old man swallowed it hook, line, and sinker," huh? Poor kids... they mistake years of experience for naivety. They forget that this old fox knows every single trick they’re barely trying to learn from the internet.

(Professor HARRINGTON looks directly at the audience, raises the green toy in the air like a literary trophy, and delivers his final line with a sharp, elegant smile):

PROFESSOR HARRINGTON:
As the literary classics used to say, my dear friends: "The prankster ended up pranked"... I didn't flunk you, boys; you flunked yourselves for failing to properly study your opponent. Now, with your phone confiscated for the rest of the academic year and my conscience clear, I am heading home for dinner. Good night!

(Professor HARRINGTON bows comically and theatrically to the audience, throws his bag over his shoulder, and walks off with his back perfectly straight and a smile of absolute victory).

T H E

E N D


 

MARCIANOS EN LA UNAM.

  

Marcianos en la UNAM

Por Benjamin Gavarre


 

© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA

Contact this address if you have produced it or wish to do so: gavarreunam@gmail.com

 



Lito y Paco creen haber diseñado la broma perfecta para molestar al Profesor Altamirano, un subestimado catedrático de la UNAM. Utilizando un supuesto "encuentro extraterrestre" en las oscuras jardineras cerca de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, los alumnos intentan grabarlo en una situación graciosa para volverlo viral. Sin embargo, en el juego de la astucia universitaria, El diablo es más sabio por viejo que por diablo. Una comedia ágil y mordaz sobre cómo el cazador puede convertirse, sin darse cuenta, en la presa.



Marcianos en la UNAM

(EL BURLADOR BURLADO)




PERSONAJES:

  • EL PROFE ALTAMIRANO: 50 años. Catedrático de una Facultad de la UNAM. Parece la víctima perfecta. La pana de su saco tiene grandes bolsillos.
  • LITO: 20 años, pero se siente el Rey del Mundo. Alumno pícaro y flojo. Cree tener el sartén por el mango.

PACO: El “Segunda parte” de Lito (casi no habla, es el operador desde las sombras).





ESCENA I

LUGAR: Andador exterior techado de una Facultad (CU). Final de la tarde. (Sale el PROFE ALTAMIRANO jalando una maleta de cuero negro para tanto libro que usa, y a veces para su almuerzo y otras cosas.).


PROFE No puede ser. Tres horas explicando versos gongorinos y estos muchachos me miraban como si fuera un holograma de Star Wars. Qué ganas de enseñar en postgrado. Los de licenciatura parecen de prepa, qué digo, de secundaria. Y tengo un hambre… Bueno, al menos YA SALI y YA ME VOY antes de que me agarre el tráfico. ¿O HABRÁ algún alumno con una petición de última hora??... Un día de estos se me va a aparecer un estudianto o estudianta en la regadera para entregarme su trabajo a destiempo, ah y con calificación de 7 máximo, son el colmo de la mediocridad.


(Entra LITO caminando despacio, mirando al suelo con cara de estar pensando algo muy profundo).

 

LITO No sé... no sé qué hacer. ¿Y si lo vendo en el tianguis? No, capaz que me asaltan. ¿Y si lo rento para una fiesta? O mejor me lo quedo y me hago millonario...

PROFE (Fastidiado) Lito. Por favor, Se que me vienes siguiendo aunque vengas dos pasos detrás de mí… Puedo olerte. Hueles a que me vas a pedir algo. No me quites el tiempo con tus dilemas existenciales, que ya es tarde.

LITO ¡Profe! Qué bueno que lo veo. Justo a usted lo estaba buscando. Es que... tengo en mi poder algo muy valioso, de verdad, muy perrón, y no sé qué hacer. No sé si venderlo, rentarlo o quedármelo. Está bien potente, lo juro.

PROFE (Camina sin detenerse) Lito, te conozco. Seguro es otra de tus artimañas. ¿Ya se te olvidó el semestre pasado cuando me hiciste perder el tiempo para venderme una "mariposa si alas" que resultó ser un camarón de un buffet de chinos barnizado con laca?

LITO ¡Mariposa disecada sin alas… Disecada, profe! No sea así. Aquello fue un error, a mí también me timaron. Pero esto de hoy es real. Es algo misterioso y peligroso, pero de mucha fortuna. Se lo enseñaría aquí, pero hay mucha gente. ¿Por qué no me acompaña aquí atrás, por las jardineras del fondo, por donde están los árboles oscuros?

PROFE (Se detiene y lo mira, entrecerrando los ojos) ¿Atrás de Filos? En el día es una jardinera normal, pero ahorita eso ya parece una calle misteriosa de película de terror. Hay mucha diferencia, ahí asaltan, muchacho. ¿Me quieres quitar mi quincena?

LITO ¡Ay, profe, cómo cree! Si quiere se lo regalo a usted. Por el puro gusto de que me cae bien.

PROFE (Interesado pero haciéndose el importante) Ajá... Bueno... tampoco hay que exagerar. Pero… Seguro es una tontería. Ya no me quites el tiempo, me muero de hambre.

LITO Es que… escuche cómo me lo encontré. Iba yo caminando por una selva oscura, llena de neblina...

PROFE Estás en CU, Lito. Solo hay jacarandas y bueno, las Islas, esas sí llenas de neblina. Ya sabes…  Pero no es el Amazonas.

LITO Bueno, en una jardinera, pues. Pero estaba junto a un montículo de alimento de moscas...

PROFE ¿Un montón de estiércol?

LITO Estiércol… jaja…, caca de perro, Profe… Lo raro es que brillaba como una estrella y luego se apagaba. ¡Pum! Brillaba y se apagaba.

PROFE (Se ríe) Ay, Lito. Brilla y se apaga...  Será una luciérnaga, genio. Te espantaste por un bicho.

LITO No era luciérnaga, era más grande y se movía solo, como si tuviera vida propia.

PROFE Ya sé, un muñeco articulado de los que venden en el tianguis. ¿Y hablaba?

LITO ¡Sí! Hablaba, cómo lo sabe… Yo decía: “Muñeco feo, eres un cabrón” …, y se hacía el chistoso y repetía exactamente lo mismo: … Muñeco feo eres un…

PROFE Ya, ya, entendí. Ha de ser de esos que tienen un chip para repetir lo que oyen. Cuando se le acabe la pila no a servir de nada. Es basura china… y por eso terminó junto al estiércol.

LITO ¿Y cómo explica la luz verde que le salía de la boca?

PROFE Pues es el diseño del juguete. A veces tienen luces en los ojos, a veces en la boca, o en el pecho… como Buzz Lightyear.

LITO ¡Profe... ¡A poco le gusta Toy Story! Usted tan serio, tan catedrático de Lingüística aplicada.

PROFE Pues por eso conozco bien las hablas como la tuya y toda la cultura popular, Lito, no vivo en una cueva. Oye, pero te pones de misterioso… ¿Por qué?

LITO Pues también... se me hizo raro que su cabeza diera vueltas completas y estirara los brazos para que lo cargara. Y luego, cuando me contestó lo que le pregunté, ahí sí me asusté.

PROFE ¿Cómo que te contestó? Ya estás inventando.

LITO De verdad. Me miró y me dijo: "Necesito que un adulto confiable, con plaza definitiva y con casa propia venga a salvarme, porque me accidenté al entrar a la atmósfera".

PROFE (Fingiendo una mezcla de desconcierto y sospecha) Me estás engañando. O es una broma... O de verdad ya estás chiflado.

LITO No, profe. Quedé de estar con él ahorita a las ocho, ahí atrás, junto a los árboles oscuros y el montón de... ya sabe... “estiércol”. Vamos… Ahorita ya no hay vigilantes por esa zona, está solo.

PROFE (Mira su reloj, fingiendo nerviosismo) A ver... no es que te no crea. Es obvio que tienes problemas mentales por no dormir bien. Pero... vamos a dar una vuelta rápido, solo para que te quedes tranquilo y dejes de molestar. Pero antes, déjame pasar a mi auto por mi lunch que lo olvidé. (Por sus libros) Y a dejar esta cruz.

LITO (Mientras abre la cajuela de su auto y saca una mochila inusualmente grande con su “lunch”.) Profe, Sí sabía que ya hay PDFs y bibliotecas online.

PROFE ¿Para que todo lo copien y peguen? O peor… ¿para que todo se lo dejen a una IA Ni madres. Cállate y camina.

LITO Copy paste nunca, profe, nunca… tal vez…

PROFE ¡Camina!

(Salen los dos).

 

ESCENA II

LUGAR: La parte de atrás de la facultad (Sauces, muros cubiertos de hiedra y jardineras salvajes rodeadas de paredes de ladrillos y arbustos). Está completamente oscuro. El viento mueve las ramas de los sauces llorones. No hay nadie. ENTRAN: El Profe Altamirano (Siempre cargando su enorme mochila y alumbrando con la linterna de su celular) y Lito.


PROFE (Temblando exageradamente de frío y miedo) A ver, Lito... ¿Seguro que era verde? Eso no me lo habías dicho hace rato.

LITO Sí, profe. Verde y con unos ojos enormes y saltones, como de venado.

PROFE (Demasiado asustado) No me digas… Podría ser de veras un extraterrestre... Válgame Dios.

LITO ¿Sabe qué, profe? Yo creo que usted ya los conocía. Son como de su época, ¿no? De cuando usted estaba joven.

PROFE ¡Cállate, Lito! ¡Mira! Se movieron esas ramas. Y no es el viento. Algo se movió como una mano o un brazo… algo o alguien nos está observando ahí metido. Mejor vámonos.

(De entre los arbustos sale una voz distorsionada por un megáfono de juguete).

VOZ (EN OFF) ¡Litoooo... Litoooo! ¿Trajiste al adulto mayor confiable y culto que te pedimos?

LITO (Fingiendo terror, se esconde detrás del profe) ¡Ay, en la madre! ¡Profe, me habló! ¡Y dijo "pedimos"! ¡Son varios, no solo uno!

VOZ (EN OFF) Somos uno y somos miles... Sabemos quiénes reprueban alumnos por puro gusto...

PROFE (Muerto de miedo, cayendo de rodillas dramáticamente) ¡Lito, esto ya no me está gustando! ¡Esto es un castigo cósmico! Me quieren hacer una broma para grabarme y me voy a volver tendencia en las redes. ¡No quiero ser un meme, Lito, te lo advierto, mi prestigio académico me ha costado años enteros!

LITO ¡Profe, mire! ¡Pasó algo volando por arriba de su cabeza!

PROFE ¡No vi nada, estás exagerando!

LITO Zumbaba como una abeja gigante, en serio.

PROFE ¡Un dron! ¡O un bicho! ¡Yo no vi nada!

(De pronto, una luz verde brillante ilumina los arbustos desde abajo).

LITO (Haciéndose el místico) ¡Profe, mire esa luz! Se abrió un portal en el árbol. Todo allá es maravilloso, es el Nirvana, es la Ciudad Dorada, Profe…  Me está llamando... me dice que vaya. Ya me voy, profe. Si preguntan por mí, dígales que me fui a un mejor lugar. No a un panteón, a un mejor lugar, ya usted les explica… Gracias por todo, fue un buen profe...

PROFE ¡Lito, no seas idiota! ¡No te metas ahí! ¡Quédate aquí conmigo, no me dejes solo! ¡Lito!!!

LITO No puedo, profe, Me llaman. He sido elegido. ¡Adiós!


(Lito camina graciosamente dando zancadas en cámara lenta hacia la luz verde que después de un estallido como un flash se apaga por completo. Todo queda en silencio).


PROFE (Fingiendo pánico total) Ah, qué fue eso… He sido testigo de una abducción sin duda… ¿Lito? ¡Lito! ¡No puede ser cierto! No, no, no… De seguro ahora vienen por mí y me van a querer disecar o quedarse con mis partes... ¡Mejor me pongo a salvo!

 

(El Profe corre con su “mochila del almuerzo” cojeando hacia el campus iluminado, gritando como loco. Desaparece del escenario).


(A los tres segundos, LITO y su compinche PACO salen de los arbustos cargando una linterna con celofán verde un antiguo flash de cámara de fotos y una bocina bluetooth. Se están ahogando de la risa, casi sin poder respirar, celebrando su victoria).


LITO (Tirado en el pasto, muerto de la risa) ¡Ya estuvo, Paco! ¿Qué tal sus gritos? ¡Si hasta se tiró de rodillas el muy pendejo! “Ha de ser un montón de estiércol”, quien dice eso, mi profe… "¡No quiero ser un meme!" Ja, ja… ¡Se la tragó completita, che Mono!

PACO (Festejando en silencio, chocando los puños con Lito y enseñando su celular) ¡Está buenísimo, Lito! Pero ojalá no nos tuerzan si se sabe….

LITO ¡Ya estás como el profe de sangrón! Se nota que eres de “clásicas”. Mira… Mañana Lo chantajeo con mi cel: "O me pone diez, o de veras que lo vuelvo meme". (Mira su cel.) Qué gracioso se ve… La verdad va a tener muchos likes… Ay profe, de veras...


(De pronto, un sonido ensordecedor y metálico corta la risa de los dos estudiantes. Es la temible sirena de una patrulla de Auxilio UNAM que resuena por todo el lugar, seguida por un zumbido de micrófono de alta potencia).


VOZ POR ALTAVOZ DE ALTA POTENCIA (EN OFF) (Una voz ronca, autoritaria y oficial) ¡ATENCIÓN, ALUMNOS. LES HABLA LA JEFATURA DE VIGILANCIA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD. ESTÁN EN ZONA RESTRINGIDA DESPUÉS DEL HORARIO ACADÉMICO. SE LES TIENE LOCALIZADOS POR CÁMARA DE SEGURIDAD COMETIENDO ACTOS DE EXTORSIÓN Y DAÑO A LAS JARDINERAS. NO SE MUEVAN Y LEVANTEN LAS MANOS".


LITO (Pasmado, pálido) ¿Qué...? ¿Güey, la vigilancia? ¡Nos van a levantar un acta!

PACO (En total estado de Pánico, le quita el celular a Lito y lo tira al suelo) ¡A la madre, Lito! ¡Vámonos, vámonos! ¡Ahí vienen!


(Lito y PACO, completamente espantados, tiran todas sus cosas al suelo y salen corriendo a toda velocidad en dirección contraria, tropezando con las ramas y gritando del miedo).

(Se apaga el sonido de la sirena. Se hace el silencio. De detrás del tronco de una jacaranda grande, sale el PROFE ALTAMIRANO. Trae una sonrisa TRIUNFAL de oreja a oreja y en la mano sostiene el megáfono portátil con el que acaba de hacer la voz de Vigilancia).


PROFE (Apaga el megáfono, camina hacia el centro de la escena y recoge del suelo el muñeco verde, la linterna de celofán y el celular que dejaron los alumnos) “Baia, Baia”... Con que "muy pendejo el profe", ¿eh? Pobres muchachos, confunden la veteranía con la ingenuidad. No hay que meterse con los diablos viejos.


(El Profe ALTAMIRANO mira al público, levanta el muñeco verde como si fuera un trofeo del barroco culterano y remata con picardía):


PROFE Ya lo decían los clásicos, mis estimados: "¡El burlador, burlado!". No los reprobé yo, muchachos, se reprobaron solitos por no estudiar al enemigo... Ahora sí, con su celular confiscado todo el semestre y mi conciencia limpia, me voy a cenar con mi mujer. ¡Buenas noches!

 

(El Profe ALTAMIRANO da una reverencia cómica al público, se echa su mochila al hombro y sale caminando muy digno mientras esboza una sonrisa).



FIN

 

lunes, 1 de junio de 2026

ROOMIES ONLY.

  









ROOMIES ONLY

By GAVARRE BENJAMIN

 



©  BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA

Contact this address if you have produced it or wish to do so: gavarreunam@gmail.com

 







ROOMIES ONLY

 

A DARK COMEDY OF FRAGILE MASCULINITY AND URBAN ANXIETY

 


 


 

CHARACTERS:

  • MATTHEW (29): Obsessive-compulsive neat freak. Hides his deep need for affection under a thick layer of intellectual cynicism.
  • ZACKS (29): Anxious, passive-aggressive competitor. Tries way too hard to look modern and trendy, but is low-key terrified of the future.
  • TIFFANY (27): Professional, focused. Just wants a quiet place to survive her master’s degree; gets frustrated easily.
  • OLIVER (28): The boyfriend. Shameless, plays at being a seducer, weaponizes a super shallow version of modern "wokeness." Talks a big game but never follows through.

 

 



 

 




SCENE 1

(The apartment of two friends in San Francisco. It’s a modern space but a bit of a mess. Two empty coffee mugs sit on the table. MATTHEW paces back and forth. ZACKS is adjusting a pair of pretty tight jeans, strategically and slightly ripped at the thigh.)

MATTHEW: Did you seriously put on Carolina Herrera? What is this, a Tinder date in the Mission, or are we just meeting a potential roommate?

ZACKS: It’s my natural scent. Besides, we agreed on making a good impression.

MATTHEW: We said "Strictly business impression," Zacks. We signed a pact, dude. Zero personal attachments, zero shared-sheets drama. The last subletter stiffed us on three months of internet bills because he caught feelings for you, and then everything got weird.

ZACKS: He had attachment issues, that wasn’t my fault. And don’t talk to me about professionalism when you’re wearing that shirt that makes your biceps pop like you just crawled out of a CrossFit box.

MATTHEW: This is my normal shirt.

ZACKS: Yeah, right. And those pants of yours... what’s with the peek-a-boo thigh action? You can see half your leg. Are you gonna discuss utilities or audition for a nineties boy band? It’s pathetic for someone pushing thirty, Matt.

MATTHEW: It’s style, Zacks. It’s called ventilation. You wouldn't know.

ZACKS: ... You look like a guy trying too hard to sneak into a club without showing ID. (He reaches out and yanks a loose thread on Matthew’s ripped jeans.)

MATTHEW: Dude, what the hell! Don’t you dare!

(Zacks pulls too hard. A loud, violent rip echoes: Matthew’s jeans tear completely open from thigh to knee, exposing his underwear.)

MATTHEW: (Screaming) Oh my god! Are you serious?! Those were my favorite pair! My balls are practically hanging out!

ZACKS: It was an accident! Just throw them away already!

MATTHEW: And what do we do now? She’s gonna be here any second and I look like a Mad Max extra. I have to go change!

ZACKS: Run, go! I’ll cover the door!

(Matthew’s cell phone buzzes on the coffee table. It’s on speaker by default. A cheerful, distracted female voice fills the room.)

VOICE OF TIFFANY: Hey, guys! So, we are right outside, just trying to find parking. Quick question though... it’s totally cool if I bring my boyfriend, right? We decided to move in together to save money, so we can split everything four ways—it's gonna be so great! Be up in a minute!

(The call cuts off. Dead silence. Matthew, with his pants hanging in shreds, and Zacks stare at each other, completely frozen by the revelation.)

ZACKS: (In a whisper) Did she say... "we"?

MATTHEW: She said "boyfriend." And she said "four ways."

ZACKS: That changes... everything. The whole vibe of the house is about to go down the drain.

MATTHEW: (Staring at the door, cold and calculating) Zacks... we cannot let this happen.

ZACKS: No, we can't.

MATTHEW: Zacks, activate protocol-abort. Pour the bitter coffee. I’m going for my ugly sweatpants. We are shutting this down.

(The lights cut to black quickly as the sound of the elevator reaching the floor is heard.)

SCENE 2

(Fifteen minutes later. Matthew is now wearing basic sweatpants. Zacks is trying to maintain a relaxed posture. Sitting on the couch across from them are TIFFANY, holding a folder with documents, and her boyfriend, OLIVER, looking way too relaxed, casually tossing his car keys.)

MATTHEW: (Slapping down two glasses of water with faint, oily smudges on the glass) Sorry about the presentation. The dishwasher kicked the bucket, so we just... rinse things quickly. As long as nothing is floating, we call it a win.

TIFFANY: (Suspiciously) No worries, Matthew. Thanks. So, like I mentioned in the email, my budget is totally fine for the deposit, and... (She looks at Oliver.)

OLIVER: Yeah, I mean, the original plan was just Tiff moving out of her current place. But since we’re both working on some creative startups around Oakland, we figured, why pay two rents when we can optimize our resources? So, we're both moving in. The room is pretty spacious, a King bed fits, right?

(Matthew and Zacks exchange a fast, icy glance.)

ZACKS: S-Sure. The square footage is there. What I'm not sure about is... the eco-balance of the apartment. You see, we signed a strict roommate agreement two years ago. It includes a zero-relationship-drama clause.

TIFFANY: Oh, no, we don’t cause any trouble, seriously. We’re super low-key.

MATTHEW: That’s exactly what Bobby used to say. Our last roommate. Lived here two years. At first, it was all peace, meditation... until one Tuesday at three in the morning, we woke up to these blood-curdling screams. We thought we were getting robbed.

ZACKS: We ran into the living room with a golf club. And nope, no robbers. Bobby was having a threesome. With a married couple he met on a location-based app. The noise was... structural, you know? The windows were vibrating.

TIFFANY: (Shifting uncomfortably) Wow... that’s awful. So disrespectful.

MATTHEW: That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was Wednesday morning. I walk into the kitchen for coffee, half-asleep, and there’s Bobby, in his boxers, happily flipping pancakes for the married couple. He just introduced them like it was nothing. "Hey guys, meet Peter and Salma." We had to eat breakfast with them. It was a psychological trauma that Zacks and I still haven't processed. You're pushing thirty, trying to decide if you should pass the butter to "Peter"... while your brain replays the audio from last night... believe me, it was too much.

(A tense pause.)

OLIVER: (Laughs) Dude, that is an absolute gem of a story! Talk about community sharing... And they even made breakfast, haha...

TIFFANY: (Elbows Oliver hard) Oliver, stop! It’s not funny. (To the roommates) I am so sorry you had to deal with that. We are definitely not like that... In fact, Oliver would barely even stay over on weekends because...

ZACKS: But that’s the point, Tiffany. If you guys move in together, the playing field changes. We’d also have the right to bring girls back to our rooms whenever we want to balance out the communal space. And if this place turns into a revolving door for single guys in their thirties having a life crisis, we lose all order. Are you guys planning on spending every single night here? We need to know.

TIFFANY: (Visibly overwhelmed) No... I mean, I didn’t know the vibe here was so... intense. I was just looking for a quiet space to focus on my master’s.

OLIVER: (Leans back on the couch with a playful grin) Look, guys, don't sweat it. We gotta be flexible in this city. If it's just a matter of math and space... instead of fighting over who brings who, we could just easily start a four-way dynamic right here in the house and save ourselves the hassle of outside guests, right? That way, nobody feels left out.

(Dead silence fills the room. Zacks blinks, frozen. Matthew locks eyes with Oliver. Tiffany goes completely rigid.)

TIFFANY: (Standing up abruptly, grabbing her papers) That is a terrible fucking idea, even as a joke, Oliver. You are so incredibly immature.

OLIVER: Babe, it’s a joke, relax...

TIFFANY: No, it’s not a joke! You’ve been making these "modern" comments all week and I am completely done. (To the roommates) Sorry for wasting your time. It’s crystal clear to me that this apartment is not for me. Excuse me.

(Tiffany stomps towards the exit and slams the front door behind her. Oliver sits for a moment, weighing the situation. He gets up calmly and looks at the friends.)

OLIVER: Uh-oh. I think she’s actually pissed this time. Oh well, she was due for therapy this week anyway. (Walks toward the door but stops) Hey... real question, though. I love the room. And honestly, she and I were about to break up anyway, this just speeded up the process. Do you guys take single guys?

MATTHEW: Single rent is higher. And the cleaning rules are non-negotiable.

OLIVER: Works for me. I’ll go calm her down, put her in an Uber, and I'll be back in an hour for the keys and the bills list, cool? See ya later, roomies. (Winks ambiguously and exits).

EPILOGUE

(The same apartment, a year later. There are traces of Oliver's passage—maybe a Fight Club poster, or a piece of furniture that is too modern to fit, like a massive air fryer. MATTHEW and ZACKS are sitting on the couch sharing a cold pizza straight from the box. There is a silence of deep fatigue, but also of relief.)

ZACKS: (Chewing) I can't believe he finally took his last bottle of magnesium and protein powder. I feel like we lived twelve months inside a TikTok algorithm.

MATTHEW: We have to give him credit for one thing: the bastard had a flair for chaos. How many "girlfriends" did you count in a year? I stopped counting at the third Vanessa. Well, the second one was named Prudence! But she had that same energy of wanting to redesign our living room.

ZACKS: Three official girlfriends and about a hundred thousand "shared life projects." And always in the kitchen during parties... And to think about how scared we were on day one. Do you remember? When he blurted out that four-way comment with that psychopathic smile. I spent the first three months sleeping with my door locked, swearing that at any moment he was gonna walk into my room with lube and a polyamorous contract. In the end, it was all just an act, dude. He talks a big game, but he never delivers.

MATTHEW: It was all a game, dude. Just cheap seduction tactics. He loved messing with us, seeing the panic on our faces when he got too close in the kitchen or when he suggested that we "share energy"... All talk, no action. A closeted pickup artist who just wanted someone to validate his memes.

ZACKS: Yeah, but it wears you down. That hyper-modern masculinity where it's all "I’m so free and woke, but I leave my dirty underwear in the communal laundry room"—it's insufferable. I’m glad he had to go. His vibe was draining us. Last month I almost bought ripped jeans again.

MATTHEW: God forbid. We’re too old for induced identity crises. The good thing is we got the wheel back. We're back to order. Back to the beautiful, predictable, boring single life of our thirties.

(A firm, cheerful knock at the door: "Knock, knock, knock".)

ZACKS: Don’t tell me he came back because he forgot his yoga mat.

MATTHEW: Go look. If it's him, tell him we're dead.

(Zacks opens the door. TIFFANY and OLIVER are standing on the threshold, holding hands and beaming.)

OLIVER: What's up, my eternal roomies! What's shaking? You gotta let us in, we're in a rush.

TIFFANY: Hey, guys! So good to see you.

ZACKS: Tiffany? Oliver? I thought... well, I thought you guys were killing each other in the parking lot a year ago.

OLIVER: (Laughs) Nah, man, hazards of the trade. Modern love is cyclical. We broke up, we got back together, went to couples therapy, broke up again... And well, we have an exclusive scoop for you! (They show an engagement ring).

TIFFANY: We’re getting married! On the beach, something super organic and pet-friendly.

MATTHEW: (Gets up, with slight irony) Wow... okay. Honestly, congratulations. What a major surprise. Who would've thought a four-way dynamic would end up in a legally binding duet.

OLIVER: Gotta settle down, brothers. The market out there is brutal. But hey, you are obviously invited, you'll get the digital pass on WhatsApp. Don't you dare miss it!

ZACKS: We'll be there, Oliver. Wearing my most formal pants, I promise. Congrats to both of you.

TIFFANY: Thanks, guys. I'm so glad Oliver lived with you, I feel like he matured a lot... or at least he knows how to use an air fryer now. See you at the wedding!

OLIVER: Keep it real, roomies!

(Oliver and Tiffany leave laughing. Zacks closes the door slowly and collapses onto the couch next to Matthew.)

ZACKS: Man. Everything moves so fast out there, dude. People hate each other, propose threesomes, stop talking, get married on the beach... and here we are, fighting over pizza crusts.

MATTHEW: It’s just that you always eat the best part and leave me the burnt cardboard.

ZACKS: (Cynical) I left you the sesame seed crust, Matthew.

MATTHEW: Ah, how generous, my friend.

ZACKS: (Smiles half-heartedly, comfortable in the usual tension) Yeah... Well. The bright side is, in the middle of this urban mess... we have each other.

(Matthew immediately turns to him with dramatic suspicion. Zacks catches the tension and clears his throat quickly).

ZACKS: Like... as roomies, of course. Obviously. In other words, equitable distribution of expenses, maintenance of the home... *cough cough*... you know. Strictly business.

MATTHEW: (Smiles half-heartedly, relaxing) Strictly business, Zacks. Get another beer.

(Zacks gets up towards the kitchen while Matthew puts on music and makes rhythmic movements, but without dancing at all, as if he were doing a sports warm-up, but also as if he wanted to dance. Zacks arrives with the beers and stares at him from the kitchen with a smile of absolute complicity. The lights slowly go down to black).


THE END

 

Entradas populares

RESEÑA DE LA PELÍCULA

RESEÑA DE LA PELÍCULA
AMORES MATERIALISTAS