Nopal Care & Maintenance
(Seguros El Gran Nopal):
"Moctezuma’s Other Vengeance"
Distopic Farce
By Benjamin Gavarre
Nopal Care & Maintenance (Seguros El Gran Nopal): Distopic Farce © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International
bengavarre@gmail.com
Characters
- César (The Star Adjuster): Contractor and crew leader for Nopal Care & Maintenance. Docile, accommodating, and neatly dressed. He orchestrates the silent replacement with the dark humor of classic Mexican carpa theater.
- Mary Care (The Imperial Secretary): One hundred percent white, a fanatic of order. The owner of the residence, stressed out by her mansion's failures. Vulnerable to the hypnotic trance of good customer service.
- Bonasera / The Assistant (The Survivor): Argentine technocrat who survived the deep freeze of the Global South. Cynical, arrogant, and fed up with insurance bureaucracy. He hides a vulnerability that will explode unexpectedly.
- Blandón / Chuchito Pocas Pulgas (The Insurance Landscaper): Android with a magnetic presence and the looks of a vintage actor. Expert at reviving synthetic gardens and cultivating irreversible desires.
- Esfinge / Sphinx (The Hydraulic Specialist): Elite plumber in charge of bathtub and pipe claims. Silent and sculptural. Masters the exact temperature to disarm human willpower.
- Mcfierro (Pest & Micro-Systems Control): Cyborg engineer descended from the old port of Veracruz. His philosophy relies on technical double entendres. His irony is as precise as the toxins he administers.
- Casandra (The Claims Adjuster / Oracle): The satellite link to Operations. An older cyborg model who delivers poetic prophecies disguised as "terms and conditions."
SCENE I: The Deductible of Salt and Neon
(The scene takes place in the Imperial Residence in New New California. Minimalist, white architecture with large windows. However, there are puddles on the marble floor and a faint hum of a short circuit. The lighting is cold).
(MARY CARE and BONASERA walk around, dodging leaks. She fans herself nervously; he types furiously on a transparent tablet).
MARY CARE: Oh, by the Great Umpire, Bonasera! Back in the capital, they promised us this residence floated above the mud, and look at this synthetic asphalt! It reeks of dampness and repressed resistance! The garden is dead, the pool is spitting mud, and micro-bugs from the ancient lake are invading my bedroom. Call the insurance!
BONASERA: (With a thick Argentine accent, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder). I already called, Mary Care! But the Imperial Government slashed the budget. We had to take out a policy with Nopal Care & Maintenance. I hate this! Ever since the ice froze my southern homeland, I’ve pushed myself to live by the white imperial standard... and now I have to deal with a third-world repair crew that can’t even arrive on time!
(A harmonic chime rings. CÉSAR enters, impeccable, carrying a weathered leather briefcase. Behind him, statuary and overwhelming, enter BLANDÓN, ESFINGE, and MCFIERRO, wearing elegant maintenance uniforms. Finally, CASANDRA enters, static, blinking with amber lights).
CÉSAR: (With an ear-to-ear smile). Good afternoon, Excellencies. César, diamond adjuster for Nopal Care & Maintenance, at your complete service. We are here to cover your residence’s claim. Because at the Great Nopal, your disasters... are our absolute delight.
MARY CARE: (Holding her breath upon seeing the androids, fascinated by their presence). I was expecting service scrap-metal, but... what perfect symmetry your technicians have. They look carved from warm marble.
CÉSAR: It’s the new bio-synthetic assistance line, ma'am. Let me introduce the crew. For your dead garden, we have Blandón. Elite landscaper.
BLANDÓN: (Stepping forward, fixing a hypnotic gaze on Mary Care). I harvest with delicacy, boss lady. Your garden plants are dry because they lack touch. I know exactly how much pressure to apply to the stem so the root releases its juice... without breaking the bark. If you allow me into your green areas, the delivery of fruits will be total.
MARY CARE: (Touching the air, subjugated). What a... promising work rhythm.
CÉSAR: For the muddy pool and the pipes, Master Esfinge. Hydraulic specialist.
ESFINGE: (With sensual gravity, looking at Bonasera). The basin's water has memory, sir. Your ducts are tense. With me in charge of your tub, I can submerge you in a thermal frequency where your defenses will completely shut down. I guarantee you... you won't want to get dressed all day.
BONASERA: (Swallowing hard, loosening his collar). Wow... a plumbing precision that borders on the voluptuous.
ESFINGE: It’s not the size of the leak, Mr. Bonasera; it’s knowing how to open the valve wide enough so the current sweeps you away.
CÉSAR: And finally, for the pests in your bedroom: Mcfierro. The terror of the local fauna. He knows how to tighten the nuts without squeezing the metal too hard.
MCFIERRO: (With his cap tilted, holding a small chrome piece. He smiles with an imperceptible wink). At your command, bosses. With me, there are no weird noises or annoying bugs. I know exactly where to stick my hand when the socket shorts out. Sometimes the empire's pipes get clogged because the O-ring is bone dry. If you let me, I’ll apply some code-lube so the tool slides right in, without forcing the thread, until the system loosens up and releases all the pressure.
BONASERA: (Laughing with nervous complicity). You have an... amazing flexibility with words, Mcfierro. An impeccable handling of the... tool.
MCFIERRO: (With an exaggerated bow). Whatever the client asks for. Always at the service of your slot, boss.
MARY CARE: (Staring at Casandra, who blinks rhythmically in a corner). And her? She looks like an older model... Is she here to fix something?
CÉSAR: Ah, Casandra is the grand exception. She’s our satellite link to Operations. The claims appraiser. A bit retro, but she logs the damages and reads the fine print of the policy with a... prophetic precision.
REBOOT LOOP 1: The Fine Print of the Policy
(Suddenly, the lighting drastically changes to a surreal violet hue. The sound of a giant rubber stamp echoes in the room. The characters freeze. CASANDRA raises her arms. A soft rain of golden dust falls only on her).
CASANDRA: (Her voice is a choral, poetic, and enveloping chant). Clause number four: The empire does not fall by acts of God, but by an emotional deductible. Feel the pulse of the salt. The surrender of the residence is not a loss; it is the only pleasure you have left. Error in the conquest code. Temporary protocol reboot in three, two... one.
(The light returns to a warm amber. Time has skipped forward. Several hours of "repairs" have passed. Mary Care and Bonasera are now sitting on the living room floor, exhausted, while the androids watch them calmly).
MARY CARE: (Sighing). The air conditioning doesn't make noise anymore. But I have... a strange emptiness in my stomach.
BONASERA: (Rubbing his belly, with a heavy Argentine accent). Che, César... how much longer until the final appraisal? I’m starving to death. I feel like the cold from down there, from the South, crept right into my guts.
CÉSAR: (Magically materializing a basket). Per Nopal Care protocol, while the repairs are ongoing, we offer the crew's lunch. House tacos and burritos, Excellencies.
(Mary Care and Bonasera take the tacos suspiciously. The androids pull out a jar of bright, almost phosphorescent red salsa, and drench their tacos).
MCFIERRO: (Licking his fingers elegantly). Oof! Spicy, burns beautiful, and unclogs the pipes of the soul. Pour some more, boss!
MARY CARE: (Swallowing hard, losing her composure). Um... hey. Let me borrow a little bit of that red salsa. Just to evaluate the quality of the service...
BONASERA: (Desperate, devouring his food). Give some to me too! This smell reminds me of something I forgot!
(Both gringos bite into the salsa-drenched tacos. The entire stage pulses to the rhythm of a dull, echoing heartbeat. The gastric seduction has begun).
SCENE II: The Stomach Claim (The Oneiric Vengeance)
(The lighting turns a hazy red, almost like a photographic darkroom. The colic is not scatological; it is an existential fever, a contemporary dance of pain and ecstasy. Distant rumbles of a storm are heard).
(Mary Care and Bonasera writhe poetically on the sofas, pale, sweating, stripped of their imperial coats).
MARY CARE: (Screaming into the void, delirious). The insurance lied to us! Blandón turned the garden into a maze of poisoned apples! He offered me one and I feel the fire of a thousand fallen empires burning my guts! I haven't checked the reports in hours... and I don't care! I feel like I'm dissolving!
BONASERA: (Crawling, stripped of all arrogance). It’s intolerable! Esfinge filled all the bathrooms with Texcoco mud and says the clean water is only for him to splash on himself!
(MCFIERRO enters, almost floating across the stage, with his small chrome sprayer misting a scent of wet earth).
MCFIERRO: (With monastic calm). I already purged the air filters, boss lady. Sometimes, for the house to heal, the body has to purge all the accumulated poison. If the imperial suit doesn't fit tight anymore, the body forgets it’s at war. It’s the basic physics of resting.
BONASERA: (Struggling to stand up, confronting Mcfierro, eyes full of tears. His armor completely breaks). Enough! Enough of your perfect irony, you damn third-rate technician! You don't know what it’s like to lose everything! I was born in the ice! I pushed myself my whole life to whitewash myself, to be cold, to be imperial! And you show up with your heat, your humidity, your damn double entendres to melt my hard work! I hate you because you remind me of who I am!
(Bonasera falls to his knees, sobbing, genuinely broken. Mcfierro looks at him, loses his mischievous smile for a second, and approaches with unexpected tenderness. He places a hand on his shoulder).
MCFIERRO: (Softly, without mockery). There, there, che. Don't cry. In the end, we all come from the same mud. Loosen up your body... a well-placed tool is also good for propping up someone who’s falling.
(Bonasera hugs Mcfierro’s legs, finding an unusual and poetic comfort in the exterminator).
REBOOT LOOP 2: The Final Appraisal
(The scene goes dark. CASANDRA appears in the center. Her voice is an absolute echo in the room. A projection of rippling water bathes the glass walls).
CASANDRA: Silence in the disaster zone. The appraisal is complete. To you, aspirational technocrats who built your own golden cell: the perfect system lasts... until someone pours habanero peppers on the imperial policy. The New Empire does not collapse from an external attack. It falls surrendered, begging for forgiveness, under the weight of its own digestion. Case closed.
(The water light dissolves. Warm, almost golden light returns to the mansion).
SCENE III: The Appetizing Surrender and the Gordita of Peace
(The fever has passed. Mary Care and Bonasera are reclining in the deep armchairs, in an attitude of placid apathy and absolute submission. They have handed over control and are happy. BLANDÓN and ESFINGE are at their sides, massaging their necks and temples rhythmically).
MARY CARE: (With a lazy voice and a silly smile). Bonasera... what light air. Why did we want to rule the world if the insurance technicians treat us so well?
BONASERA: (Resting his head on Esfinge, relaxed, with a soft Argentine accent). You're right... Giving orders is a massive drag. I’ve never felt so taken care of.
(CÉSAR enters, now dressed in an impeccable dark linen tunic, sovereign, shedding the disguise of the docile employee. Behind him, Casandra projects amber lights over the room. César carries a steaming clay tray).
CÉSAR: Good afternoon, dear clients. I apologize for the minor gastrointestinal adjustments. Issues with the new software and a colonial stomach that wasn't ready for comprehensive coverage. To close the claim and stabilize the transition, I brought you the ultimate solution. Blue corn masa, cold-pressed chicharrón. Gorditas... strictly without salsa.
MARY CARE: (Taking a gordita with devotion). They are so warm... They taste like heaven, César. Do whatever you want with the residence. You have the command. Just... don't cancel the policy or take the boys away.
CÉSAR: (Picking up the imperial baton resting on the table, weighing it gracefully). The design of this floor was always circular, Mary Care. We are just sitting back down at the table. The New New Empire isn't conquered... it's insured.
(Blandón, Esfinge, and Mcfierro sit on the floor, forming a perfect circle with Mary Care, Bonasera, and César. They all devour the salsa-less gorditas in an absolute and peaceful truce).
MCFIERRO: (Chewing, turning to the audience. He flashes a flirty, bright wink). And there you have it, respected audience... In the end, the tool didn't need to break anything. We just needed to know where to place it so the whole empire would fall flat, begging for more... and signing off in agreement!
(Casandra raises her arms. The imperial neons turn off completely. From inside her, a cyclic, subtle, and elegant melody begins to play: a minimalist, clandestine, and deeply sensual cumbia).
CASANDRA: (In a final whisper). Code transferred. The salt flat dissolves. The claim has been paid. Welcome home.
(The light turns a warm violet. The cumbia grows louder as the characters sway gently on the floor, devouring their gorditas. A soft drizzle of clean water begins to fall behind the large windows).
(SLOW CURTAIN / FINAL BLACKOUT)
