DELIRIO CÍCLICO (PARÁFRASIS).

  

   

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DELIRIO CÍCLICO

Paráfrasis Teatral de Bajo el bosque lácteo, 

de Dylan Thomas.

(Farsa para tres náufragos, una legión de espectros y una campana)

 

Por Benjamin Gavarre

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® Benjamín Gavarre Silva

Contacto: gavarreunam@gmail.com

 benjamingavarre@filos.unam.mx 

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En 1954, el poeta galés Dylan Thomas escribió una obra para la radio llamada Under Milk Wood (Bajo el bosque lácteo). La premisa: meterse en la cabeza, en los deseos y en los sueños de los habitantes de un pueblito pesquero imaginario llamado Llaregyb. Si se lee el nombre del pueblo al revés (Bygerall), se pronuncia en inglés «Bugger all», una expresión galesa que significa algo así como «me importa un comino» o «un carajo». Desde ahí se entiende el tipo de humor del autor.

La obra original tiene más de sesenta personajes. Es un mar de voces de borrachos, modistas reprimidas, marineros muertos que añoran el ron, gitanas místicas y viudas obsesionadas con la limpieza que duermen, sueñan y despiertan a lo largo de un solo día de primavera.

Como montar a sesenta actores en un escenario puede ser una pesadilla, decidimos hacer una paráfrasis teatral. Redujimos las sesenta voces a solo tres personajes que se van cambiando las máscaras, los sombreros y las poses a un ritmo vertiginoso. Todo esto ambientado en un espacio surrealista inspirado en las pinturas de Giorgio de Chirico, donde el tiempo parece congelado y los relojes se vuelven locos.

El surrealismo, el teatro del absurdo y esta farsa barroca no se "entienden" con la cabeza; se sienten con el oído, el estómago y el ritmo.

El bosque está abierto.

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PERSONAJES

• CAPI (Capitán Gato): Ciego, sordo a conveniencia y con reflejos de ninja retirado. Navega en tierra firme sobre un taburete con ruedas. Lleva una campana de barco atada a la cintura. A menudo su boca es colonizada por los muertos del mar y las bajezas de la guerra.
• MOG: Comerciante de telas afectado por combustión espontánea de amor. Cuando el ritmo se acelera, se vuelve el receptáculo de poetas hambrientos y mendigos de caricias.
• MISS FANNY: Modista letal y sospechosa profesional. Sueña con encajes y arsénico sabor grosella. Su cuerpo es habitado por los fantasmas de actrices trágicas que nunca salieron del pueblo.

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ESPACIO ESCÉNICO

Un escenario completamente negro. En el centro, un reloj de pared gigante cuyas manecillas giran al revés con un sonido mecánico intermitente. Hilos invisibles cruzan el espacio en tensiones geométricas (estilo De Chirico), de los cuales cuelgan arenques de utilería, cartas de amor gigantes, medallas militares oxidadas, plumas de pavo real y bombines.

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Delirio Cíclico (Parte 1)

(Silencio absoluto. Un foco cenital blanco y cortante ilumina al CAPITÁN GATO (CAPI), que está en cuclillas sobre su taburete con ruedas en el centro del escenario, remando furiosamente en el aire con un bastón).

CAPI
(Con una voz de trueno amortiguado, profunda, casi musical)
Para empezar desde el principio del fin: es noche cerrada en el pueblo, negra como el fondo de una tinta bíblica. Las casas cierran los ojos como topos paranoicos. El mar, ese viejo cuervo salado, mastica las barcas de pesca.

(De la densa oscuridad penumbrosa surgen MOG y MISS FANNY. Caminan de puntillas, realizando movimientos coreografiados, rígidos y simétricos, como marionetas con los hilos demasiado tensos).

 MOG
(Al público, estirando el cuello, susurrando a toda velocidad pero con perfecta dicción)
El pueblo duerme. Duerme el zapatero con un clavo en la lengua, duerme el cartero con las cartas pegadas a las costillas, duerme el enterrador midiendo su propia almohada. ¡Todos duermen!

FANNY
(Saca una lupa gigante de su delantal y examina el aire con movimientos espasmódicos)
Excepto nosotros. And el aire, que esta noche huele a sospecha y a conspiración de pasillo. ¡Escuchen! Las estrellas caen como alfileres sobre el techo de la capilla.

 

(MOG realiza un salto acrobático estilizado y cae limpiamente de rodillas frente a FANNY, desenrollando con un golpe de muñeca una tira de franela roja como si fuera una alfombra real).

MOG
¡Mi Fanny Price Puh de mi devoción! Te amo más que a todo el terciopelo, la seda, y el tul de los almacenes del infierno. Déjame ser el manjar de tu domingo, la tostadora eléctrica de tus sábanas polares. ¡Di que sí antes de que los ratones se coman mis archivos!

FANNY
(Abre un abanico negro con un chasquido de precisión militar, ocultando media cara)
¡Mog! Tu amor me produce urticaria y poemas varios. Te tejeré una cartera azul nomeolvides para guardar tus frías monedas, pero antes... (De pronto cambia su postura a la rigidez inquisitiva de una vieja institutriz) ¡Límpiate los zapatos! Has pisado el rocío del cementerio y viene cargado de bacterias del siglo XVIII.

CAPI
(Toca furiosamente la campana de su cintura mientras rueda en círculos concéntricos alrededor de la pareja).
¡Tormenta a babor! ¡Fantasmas en la cocina! Siento los pasos de los soldados caídos en las trincheras de barro de Gallípoli. Vienen marchando sobre los adoquines con algas en las orejas y medallas de hojalata en el pecho desinflado. Capitán Evans, Teniente Jones... reportándose sin extremidades pero con el uniforme bien planchado.

(De pronto, la iluminación cambia bruscamente a un tono VERDE MILITAR y fantasmal. MOG y FANNY se quedan congelados instantáneamente en una pose grotesca de su discusión: Mog con los brazos estirados implorando y Fanny con el abanico a medio abrir. El CAPI se detiene, se yergue sobre el taburete y mira directamente al espectador con una sonrisa socarrona).

CAPI
(Al público, con voz ronca, mundana y rápida —APARTE)
En los desfiles del pueblo me cantan himnos y me llaman "el héroe ciego de la patria". ¡Cuentos chinos para consolar a los viejos! Si me volví sordo en la guerra fue por estar lo más lejos posible de los gritos del frente, escondido en la bodega de suministros robándome las raciones de chocolate y el coñac de los oficiales. No perdí los ojos por el fuego enemigo; me los quemó el alcohol adulterado en un burdel de Marsella. Pero dejen que sigan llorando por mis medallas... mientras me sigan pagando la pensión, yo les sigo marchando al revés.

 

(Un golpe seco en el gran reloj del fondo rompe la luz verde, regresando a la atmósfera inicial. MOG y FANNY se "descongelan" con un espasmo corporal, continuando la escena como si nada hubiera pasado).

 

CAPI
(Recuperando la voz poética, marcial y engolada hacia la nada)
...¡Espectros miserables, no me muerdan el hueso de los deseos, que hoy el ron sabe a pólvora y agua bendita!

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Delirio Cíclico (Parte 2)

(Justo después del grito marcial del CAPI, MOG sufre un violento espasmo espinal. Se arranca con rabia su sombrero de comerciante, lo arroja al suelo, se despeina salvajemente con ambas manos y adopta una postura lánguida, enfermiza y decadente, doblando las rodillas ante FANNY como un poeta maldito).

 

MOG
(Con voz rota, arrastrando las sílabas con una afectación trágica)
¡Déjalos marchar, Capi! Los poetas del pueblo también están desenterrados esta noche. Mendigos del abecedario, vagabundos de la rima que cambiaron sus manuscritos por un arenque podrido...

 

(Un estruendoso "¡CLACK!" suena en el reloj del fondo. La luz cambia instantáneamente a un azul nocturno y denso concentrado solo en él. CAPI y FANNY se quedan congelados en poses exageradas: CAPI con el bastón en alto como si fuera a golpear a un enemigo invisible y FANNY tapándose la boca en un gesto de horror acartonado. MOG da dos pasos rápidos hacia el proscenio, guiñándole un ojo al público).

 

MOG
(Al público, con voz cínica, rápida y conspiradora — APARTE)
Le escribo versos de amor místico a la hija del boticario, le digo en mis rimas que su alma es un cisne de nieve flotando en el fango... ¡Mentira barroca! Lo único que quiero es que su padre me fíe el opio para el maldito dolor de muelas y que ella me deje tocarle las pantorrillas detrás de la sacristía el próximo domingo. Los poetas somos mendigos con buena ortografía; cambiamos sonetos por un plato de lentejas y una caricia en la oscuridad. ¡Que se traguen mis metáforas mientras les robo la plata del bolsillo!

 

(Otro golpe seco del reloj regresa la luz al amarillo Hopper original. CAPI y FANNY se reactivan con un sutil brinco mecánico. MOG retrocede de un salto, recuperando su pose lánguida y mirando al cielo con los ojos en blanco).

 

MOG
(En voz alta, con tono poético, afectado y vibrante)
...¡Escribimos versos en las paredes del callejón con tiza de cementerio! ¡Tenemos hambre! Hambre de metáforas vivas, hambre de un labio que no huela a tierra húmeda... ¡Oh, la belleza inalcanzable de la miseria!

 

(FANNY, al escuchar esto, suelta una risotada histriónica. Da un giro teatral sobre un solo pie, descuelga una pluma de pavo real que colgaba del hilo invisible del techo, se la clava en el pelo y adopta la pose grandilocuente de una diva de la ópera venida a menos, estirando los brazos hacia el reloj).

 

FANNY
(Con voz engolada, trágica, haciendo vibrar las erres)
¡Silencio, poetas de taberna y mala muerte! ¡Abran paso a la gran Myfanwy Hughes! La actriz que pudo haber conquistado los teatros de Londres, pero se quedó varada en este maldito pueblo de pescadores, ensayando a Shakespeare frente a las gallinas...

 

(El reloj emite un zumbido eléctrico. La luz cambia bruscamente a un foco cenital ROJO pasión sobre FANNY. MOG se congela de rodillas con la mano en el pecho como un galán de cartón; CAPI se queda petrificado arriba de su taburete, remando inmóvil en el aire. FANNY se abanica lentamente, mirando al público con un desprecio aristocrático).

 

FANNY
(Al público, con voz seca, fría, calculadora y ambiciosa — APARTE)
Lloro por Shakespeare y maldigo a este pueblo que apesta a arenque podrido... pero la verdad es que en Londres me muero de hambre y nadie sabe mi nombre. Prefiero ser la reina indiscutible de este gallinero de analfabetos, cobrarle el triple por los vestidos de novia a las hijas idiotas del alcalde y acostarme con el carnicero a cambio de los mejores cortes de carne sin pagar un centavo. Dicen las malas lenguas que tengo el alma rota por el arte... ¡Ja! Lo que tengo es el corsé demasiado apretado y un odio paridor a cualquiera que use mejor sombrero que yo. Que aplaudan mi tragedia... mientras yo les cobro el luto.

 

(El zumbido del reloj cesa y la luz Hopper regresa. MOG y CAPI vuelven a la vida. FANNY estalla en un llanto teatral exagerado, llevándose la mano a la frente).

 

FANNY
(En voz alta, desgarradora y dramática)
...¡El público está muerto, pero el aplauso del viento es eterno! ¡Traigan las luces de mi entierro! ¡Traigan el veneno para esta artista incomprendida!

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Delirio Cíclico (Parte 3 y Final)

(Inmediatamente después del grito trágico de FANNY, MOG y FANNY comienzan un juego físico rítmico, frenético y casi mecánico. Se pasan un bombín de utilería de uno a otro a una velocidad delirante. Con cada intercambio de sombrero, mutan instantáneamente de personaje con un tic corporal o un cambio de voz: soldado que saluda, mendigo que estira la mano, actriz que llora, comerciante que calcula. CAPI pasa entre ellos esquivándolos en su taburete con ruedas).

 

MOG
(Haciendo malabares con el bombín, con la voz del comerciante)
¡El tiempo vuela! ¡El día estalla! El sol es un gallo de oro que pica los ojos de los durmientes...

(Cambia el bombín de mano, estira la espalda como un vagabundo)
...y despierta a los mendigos que duermen bajo el muelle de madera podrida, contando monedas invisibles entre sus harapos infestados.

 

(El gran reloj del fondo empieza a sonar con una violencia acústica inusitada, como una ametralladora de tics y tacs. La luz cambia bruscamente a un amarillo Hopper deslumbrante y plano, que baña todo el escenario).

 

FANNY
(Siguiendo el ritmo implacable del reloj, saca una taza de té invisible del bolsillo y se la ofrece a MOG con una sonrisa ensayada)
Aquí tienes tu té matutino, mi amor. Le he puesto tres cucharadas de azúcar blanca y dos gotas del veneno desconocido que usan las actrices trágicas en el tercer acto. Bebe, que es hora de sacudir el canario y desinfectar los pensamientos de la noche.

 

MOG
(Comienza a bailar un zapateado galés frenético, percutiendo el suelo con las botas mientras esquiva la taza invisible)
¡No hay tiempo para morir, hoy la tienda está abierta! La DIVA está cantando en el lavadero con su voz de soprano rota, metiendo a sus bebés en cubos de leche; los soldados fantasmas limpian sus fusiles oxidados con el rocío de la mañana, y el Cartero WINWIN está abriendo las cartas ajenas con el vapor de su propia respiración. ¡La vida es terrible, gracias a Dios!

 

CAPI
(Se detiene en seco en el centro exacto del escenario, clavando su bastón con fuerza en el suelo. Un silencio repentino y sepulcral corta el tic-tac del reloj).
¡Silencio en la bomba de agua! Alguien se acerca. Es el eco del pueblo que se mira al espejo de afeitar y se encuentra al revés. Los vivos imitan a los muertos; los muertos actúan como si estuvieran vivos.

 

FANNY
(Da un paso al frente, mirando fijamente al público con los ojos desorbitados, perdiendo toda la afectación anterior y hablando con una honestidad descarnada)
¿Quién vive bajo este bosque lácteo? Somos los mismos de ayer, pero más arrugados. Un desfile de soldados sin guerra, actrices sin teatro, poetas sin papel y mendigos de un poco de amor... No somos del todo buenos, ni del todo malos...

MOG
(Se coloca al lado de ella, dejando caer el bombín al suelo)
...somos solo criaturas atrapadas en un vals de sal, cebollas, medallas oxidadas y telas de colores.

 

(El reloj empieza a ralentizar su sonido, volviéndose un latido pausado y grave. La luz dorada y deslumbrante va bajando suavemente hacia un azul crepuscular y, finalmente, regresa a la oscuridad bíblica y profunda del inicio. Los tres personajes se juntan hombro con hombro en el centro, balanceándose suavemente de izquierda a derecha, como si sus cuerpos flotaran a la deriva en el mar).

 

CAPI
(Muy suavemente, bajando la voz hasta un susurro musical y oscuro)
La luz del día se apaga como un arenque ahumado en el agua. Cierren las persianas libres de gérmenes. Que vuelvan los soldados a sus trincheras de sueño. Que las actrices guarden sus lágrimas en los camerinos del olvido. Que los poetas mendigos se cobijen bajo las mantas del silencio. El Capitán Gato baja a su litera... y el bosque... el bosque vuelve a cerrarse sobre nosotros... por segunda vez... esta noche.

 

(El CAPITÁN levanta la mano floja y da un último toque levísimo, casi imperceptible, a la campana de su cintura).

 

(EL SONIDO DE LA CAMPANA SE APAGA EN EL AIRE)

 

(OSCURIDAD TOTAL)

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LONG LIVE THE DREAMERS

 

 

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LONG LIVE THE DREAMERS

(Que vivan los ilusos)

Characters:

• JACK (50): The father. He owes money to everyone and pays his bills with new loans that he then has to pay off. His delusion is believing he’s the king of his castle.
• ELLEN (55): The mother. She lives inside an 80s American daytime soap opera.
• AUNT MARTHA (65): The voice of reason. She’s way past her delusional phase and now wants to be everyone’s moral guide, but nobody listens to her.
• SABRINA (17): The youngest daughter. Delusional with no filter. A hopeless romantic who interprets a stranger's blink as a marriage proposal.
• SOPHIA (28): The oldest daughter. She knows everything (according to her). Her delusion is believing she is 

   

   

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  LONG LIVE THE DREAMERS

  (Que vivan los ilusos)

  Characters:

  • JACK (50): The father. He owes money to everyone and pays his bills with new loans that he then has to pay off. His delusion is believing he’s the king of his castle.
  • ELLEN (55): The mother. She lives inside an 80s American daytime soap opera.
  • AUNT MARTHA (65): The voice of reason. She’s way past her delusional phase and now wants to be everyone’s moral guide, but nobody listens to her.
  • SABRINA (17): The youngest daughter. Delusional with no filter. A hopeless romantic who interprets a stranger's blink as a marriage proposal.
  • SOPHIA (28): The oldest daughter. She knows everything (according to her). Her delusion is believing she is intellectually superior to her family. Still, she’s the one who helps the most in tight spots.
  • PAT (25): The young son. The "socialist revolutionary." He believes in class equality, especially when it comes to mechanics, Amazon couriers, or pizza delivery guys.
  • MAVERICK (25): The neighbor. Handsome, a scammer, completely cynical.
  • KEVIN (25): The pizza delivery guy. The only one with his feet on the ground. Hardworking, helpful, and usually polite.
  • LULU (22): A family friend. Flashes empty high-end boutique bags; wears expensive brands—fake ones from DHgate, obviously.
  • BEN (17): Sabrina’s friend. A "serial killer" only in his recurring nightmares; he’s a sleepwalker. He’s actually a sweet kid.

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  ONE ACT

  (Setting: A living room in Silver Lake, a courtyard apartment complex in LA. It’s a spacious ground-floor unit, but it’s far from luxury. The main area tries to look "minimalist-chic" but screams "aspirational middle class" with pretentious West Elm-style furniture. Sabrina is glued to the window. Ellen sighs while looking at an old photograph. Sophia is reading. Jack is calculating numbers with a tragic expression).

  SABRINA: (Breathless) He saw me, Sophia! He just looked at me with eyes of pure desire! The neighbor who walks around naked, the one who looks like a Greek statue… He put on his bathrobe and took out the trash just so I would see him leave. It’s a metaphor: "I’m cleaning up my life so you can move in." My goddess Aphrodite… He squeezed that organic compost bag with such passion...! He’s looking at me, he’s waving! He wants to marry me!

  SOPHIA: (Without looking up from her sociology textbook) Or maybe he just wants to confirm you’re not a ghost pressed against the glass.

  (Ellen serves tea in chipped porcelain cups but with her pinky finger lifted high in the air).

  ELLEN: These porcelain cups remind me so much of the time I met Lance Sterling. We drove up to those fake Tudor McMansions on the way to Malibu. Lance looked at me with that charming smile, just like in his daytime soap Desire and Bitterness... His eyes were two lighthouses in the fog, and his lips seemed to promise acts of unbridled passion...

  SABRINA: Who is Lance Sterling, mom? A TikToker?

  ELLEN: He was the most wanted heartthrob on 80s television!

  SOPHIA: (Condescendingly) Daytime soap operas, right?

  JACK: (In his own world) Those mini-castles were pure drywall and cheap stucco, overpriced junk. They were smaller than our apartment, and honestly, what a drag to pay rent in a fake Camelot. At least I own my own place.

  AUNT MARTHA: (Entering with a property tax bill) Your own place, Jack? Sure, but you still owe me half the down payment. You guys live well, a bit cramped, but well, thanks to me, so drop the ego. Ellen, Lance Sterling stared at you passionately because you almost spilled hot coffee on his lap… He wanted to murder you with his bare hands, but he wasn’t alone so he held back. I was there.

  (Pat enters wearing a motorcycle helmet that is way too big for him. He looks radiant).

  PAT: I was taken to Heaven ahead of time! Love annihilates the class struggle! A cyberpunk warrior gave me a ride on his steel stallion, risking his life and mine through the city traffic, without that destroying the tight bond that united us.

  VOZ DE KEVIN: (From outside) Come pay me, bro! The ride wasn’t free. You said you wouldn’t take long… And you owe me a tip for the ride and the friction!

  PAT: (Grabs an old, vintage-looking metallic chest and hands a huge coin through the window to Kevin) Your payment in specie! It includes the tip for the beautiful moments we shared on the asphalt! Return to your concrete domain, pizza deliverer, rider of the winged horse!

  VOZ DE KEVIN: (From outside) Cut the crap, you freak. You think I'm an idiot? A dirty old coin, seriously? Next time I won’t service you even if I’m starving.

  PAT: (To the family) See? He’s dying of love for me.

  (Ellen is about to scold Pat for giving away what isn't his, but suddenly LULU enters, loaded with completely empty Saks Fifth Avenue bags, alongside BEN, who is pale and sweating).

  LULU: Girls! Look at these deals at Balenciaga! Only for my size. They only make a hundred luxury pieces of each, and I was lucky enough to snatch three. The clothes are so fine the bags don't even weigh anything.

  BEN: (Trembling) I need help, someone listen to me, someone forgive me. I can’t take it anymore... I did something terrible. There is blood on my hands. I did it, I am the killer... I killed without mercy, coldly, methodically, in the alley, with the scalpel and the pliers... it was so real. The LAPD is hunting me down.

  SOPHIA: Ben, are you still asleep? You’re drooling... It’s just the nightmares that are hunting you down. Come, lie down and keep sleepwalking, but here on the couch... we’ll watch over you.

  SABRINA: (Enthusiastic) Ben killed for love! Is it true, Benny? Did you kill an evil rival for me?

  PAT: No, seriously... Dude, who did you kill?

  BEN: (Goes into a brief, mild convulsion, but calms down after a few seconds. He adopts a "lotus position" on the couch and speaks to everyone in a soft, melodic Guru voice) You are all so kind, dear audience. I am a “hunger artist,” a Kafkaesque fakir... look at me, surviving on thin air.

  LULU: (Fanning herself with an empty bag) Oh, Benny, how basic. I also survive on air, but my air is strictly VIP lounge AC. Did you hear me, skinny?

  SOPHIA: Leave him, Lulu; he’s on airplane mode.

  AUNT MARTHA: (Checking Lulu's bags) Hey, Lulu, this bag has a 7-Eleven receipt and it's empty. And your hoodie says "Hermez" with a "Z" and a lowercase "H". It’s a DHgate knockoff, sweetie.

  LULU: (Ofended, fixing her collar) No way, Auntie! It’s an alternative edition for the Latin American market. European designers eliminate silent letters to simplify the concept. Less is more, right, Soph?

  SOPHIA: (Without looking up from her book) Yeah, sure. Less intelligent is trending today. (Pause, looking at Sabrina) Max, Sabrina, stop looking at Ben like a lost puppy. And look at the sleepwalker, he’s back... Kafkaesque fakir, he says, but he’s looking at you like a lamb to the slaughter too. Your trance is over, right, Ben? Go to the kitchen and shell some peas. Let's see if the touch of vegetables brings back your common sense.

  SABRINA: Only you understand what you just said, honestly, but I like the kitchen idea. Come on, Ben, walk with me.

  BEN: I'm not a killer, I'm not a fakir... I'm a little lamb... Baaa.

  (Sabrina and Ben walk toward the kitchen. Ellen looks out the window. Jack goes back to his numbers. Aunt Martha stands alone in the center of the room).

  AUNT MARTHA: (Thinking out loud) In this house, calling someone "crazy" is a compliment.

  (Suddenly, three sharp knocks hit the door. MAVERICK enters. 25 years old, gym body, cheap tight suit, and a fake leather briefcase that shines way too much. Sabrina peeks her head out from the kitchen in ecstasy; Ben follows her with a puppy-dog gaze, holding a bag of peas in his hands).

  MAVERICK: Alright, family, enough is enough! I'm here to file a formal complaint! Parents, listen up. This little girl won’t stop staring at me! I look into my kitchen: there she is. It’s harassment, damn it! And let's clear one thing up: I am NEVER in my underwear at home! And that lie about “自由” or “Aphrodite” seeing me naked like a "Greek statue" is pure birdbrain delusion.

  SOPHIA: Excuse us, pal! But who told you to walk around in your underwear, or worse, naked, in a building with so many windows? If you at least put up a curtain... But I'm warning you, my little sister is a minor, and we can charge you with exhibitionism.

  MAVERICK: Oh, don't let her play the victim... She spies on me 24/7, it's true, she even blows me kisses from her window, the little degenerate! (Pause, changes tone) But don't get me wrong... I'm not here because I mind being looked at. I'm here because I'm watching you too.

  SABRINA: (In love) I know you love me, that's why you show off your magazine body, that's why you're in your birthday suit when you go to the fridge.

  MAVERICK: (Cynical, ignoring her) Right. I'm here for serious business... a business venture that's gonna make us all win. It's a total win-win. I have a special offer for you... physical Bitcoins for five hundred dollars! A bulletproof investment. And I also have Balenciaga bags of "mass exclusivity" straight from my trunk. I have "insider information"... on all of you. I know Jack hasn't paid rent in six months. I know Ellen thinks a soap opera actor was in love with her, but the truth is, Elenita, you weren't even a bad memory to him. I know Lulu buys her "clones" at the flea market, and that Ben has nightmares because his brothers beat him up... which is why he sleepwalks and grinds his teeth.

  PAT: And what about me, you corporate tech-bro? You don't know anything about me?

  MAVERICK: I do, but honestly, it's just sad. You're dying for the working class, but you're wasting your breath, hipster.

  ELLEN: Leave my son alone, I support him... How do you know all this? What, do you have us bugged or something?

  JACK: Look, nosy neighbor, how do you know all these lies you just made up? We can report you to the police for spying.

  MAVERICK: No, no... Yes, yes... Well, little Sabrina here thinks she's a great spy... but I'm better. But let's forget the details. Since I know all your miseries... how about I make you rich so I don't go around talking trash about you... or leaking your hilarious dialogues... which I recorded...

  (He plays a recording on his phone and Sabrina’s opening dialogue is heard: “He saw me, Sophia! He just looked at me with eyes of pure desire! The neighbor who walks around naked, the one who looks like a Greek statue… He put on his bathrobe and took out the trash just so I would see him leave. It’s a metaphor: 'I’m cleaning up my life so you can move in.' My goddess Aphrodite… He squeezed that organic compost bag with such passion...! He’s looking at me, he’s waving! He wants to marry me!”)

  SABRINA: That's not me... it's a bad deepfake, it's AI...

  MAVERICK: I didn't say it was you, kiddo, but you just told on yourself... Who wants to hear another recording? I assure you they aren't fake.

  JACK: Alright, stop. Don't play another one.

  MAVERICK: I like that attitude, neighbor... Say no more... So, who wants to invest in my crypto, "Silver... Coin"? Five hundred bucks a pop. If you don't invest, maybe it'll slip out to the bank that Jack is hiding his Prius so the repo man doesn't take it... Or that Lulu buys her rags at the swap meet.

  LULU: (Screaming dramatically, covering her ears) Lies! Corporate slander! My bags have a pedigree!

  SABRINA: (Horrified) I can't believe it... You're a monster! You're not a naked angel! I'm gonna cancel you, I'm gonna ghost you, you villain!

  JACK: Neighbor, with all due respect, you are a low-life scammer.

  MAVERICK: Exactly, respectable neighbor... Turns out that in the real world, making money is what matters, not robbing Peter to pay Paul... But don't worry, I'm inviting you into the business... Anyone want a "Balenciaga" from my trunk? I actually have my car out front... Because I always win, you know... Anything that isn't illegal is fair game...

  (AUNT MARTHA grabs a broom that was by the door and starts chasing him all over the room).

  AUNT MARTHA: That's what you think, but I've had it with you... Get out of here, you pathetic scammer! Degenerate! Thief! Get out or we'll report you for stalking young girls! And guess what, I have it all recorded too... let's hear your lies... (An edited recording of Maverick plays, sounding like a self-incrimination: "And that young girl… she’s dying for me and I’m gonna take her to… my house… I walk around in my underwear and 'Aphrodite' wants me naked like a 'Greek statue' with a birdbrain.")

  MAVERICK: That's a crime! You're using my words against me... that is clearly edited, and badly edited!

  ELLEN: Leave us alone, sir! Auntie... hit him with the broom, hit him hard so he doesn't come back!

  (The Aunt, Ellen, Sabrina, Ben, and Sophia chase him, throwing peas and hitting him with the broom. Maverick finally exits among comical screams and laughs, trying to shield himself with his briefcase).

  MAVERICK: Okay, okay, I'm leaving! Stop it, please! I forgive you, I swear I won't bother you again, stop...! (In the struggle, the briefcase flies open and several shiny gold coins fall to the floor before he escapes, slamming the door). These people are crazy!

  LULU: (Scoops up a coin, bites the foil) I knew it! Authentic limited-edition Belgian chocolate. Maverick does have taste. (Stuffs them in her empty luxury bags).

  AUNT MARTHA: Degenerate, makes me wish we had dogs to set on him!

  SOPHIA: Low-life scammer.

  JACK: But we can say one thing in his favor...

  SOPHIA: I doubt it... What?

  JACK: He doesn't pay rent, that interests me... (Sees Sophia's look) But no, he's not a good person, right? Better not ask. And I'm not gonna go look for him... I swear.

  AUNT MARTHA: The nerve... At least you try to pay, Jack, you try, but you spend your life taking out unpayable loans to pay off unpayable loans, like the one I gave you... How long ago was that now?

  (Silence. The embarrassment replaces the delusion. Ben goes back to the couch in "Guru mode". Sabrina cares for him. Nobody wants to look at Jack. Suddenly, the lighting changes to radiant colors and KEVIN enters carrying pizza boxes).

  KEVIN: What's up, family! You went way overboard with the tip. Check it out: that silver coin the kid gave me was a collector's item... I took it to a pawn shop and they gave me enough to buy a pizza... Two pizzas. I'm from the neighborhood, but honesty comes first. They're yours if you let me sit down and have a slice of pepperoni.

  PAT: (Looking at Kevin with tenderness) Come in, sit down, my featherless warrior, my hero of a thousand battles, honesty personified, the good heart of the neighborhood...

  JACK: (Moved, interrupting Pat) Come in, kid. Take a seat... That one in the lotus position doesn't bite... or maybe he does, but right now he's on airplane mode.

  SABRINA: Yes, come in, good man. You have arrived at the right place, gentle sir.

  BEN: Oh come on, Sabrina, you're already replacing me? What about what we had?

  SABRINA: You're the only one, Benny; you're my little lamb.

  AUNT MARTHA: Well, well... This boy is worth a lot. You are welcome. Pat doesn't deserve you, but I'm glad you came looking for him.

  KEVIN: Me, looking for him? I didn't say that...

  ALL: (Teasingly, laughing) Come on, bro, admit it, you like him, it's obvious! Kiss, kiss! They're boyfriends, they're boyfriends!

  KEVIN: Oh hell no, I'm outta here... I don't even like him, I have a girlfriend!

  (Jack and Pat stop him by his delivery vest and lead him amiably to the couch).

  ---

  FINAL SCENE

  (The light in the living room changes to a golden orange reminiscent of a classic 1950s film. From the speakers of an old stereo, Beethoven's "Pastoral Symphony" begins to play. The family and guests sit on the floor in a circle around the cardboard pizza boxes on the ragged rug).

  ELLEN: (In a dramatic soap opera narrator voice) In the end, the pizza is the exact same color as a sunset in the woods and on the beach...

  SOPHIA: Mom, shut up. And pass the Ranch dressing.

  JACK: (Taking a bite of the pizza) My dear wife thinks this is high-society pizza.

  ELLEN: Don't talk about me like I'm not here.

  LULU: (Wiping the cardboard box with a tissue, disgusted) At least the packaging is rustic vintage. This pizza tastes like European heritage, ideal for my palate.

  PAT: (Looking at Kevin with tenderness) You came back for me, warrior of the asphalt. That much is clear.

  KEVIN: (Taking a bite of the pizza and winking) No, dude, don't get your hopes up. I came back to give you your change, bro... But hey, the friction on the moped wasn't that bad. Next time I'll give you a free ride or let you drive. Just don't let my girlfriend see us.

  PAT: Thank you, Lance.

  KEVIN: Kevin… My name is Kevin. See how you are? All men are the same.

  PAT: Not all of them, Kevin, not all of them... I will brand my forehead with your name in fire.

  KEVIN: See what I mean? Stop being a clown.

  ALL: Yeah, seriously Pat, you're too much... you're a hopeless romantic, leave that poor guy alone... he has a girlfriend, drop it.

  JACK: Well, whatever... We can say we're happy, can't we? Who cares what happens tomorrow! Because today, right now, we have pizza, health, and a good mood. Long live pizza!

  ALL: LONG LIVE PIZZA!

  (Sabrina and Ben share a slice, looking like lambs. Jack and Ellen hold hands. Everyone chews to the rhythm of Beethoven's music while the light slowly fades into a picture of perfect, fake happiness. Aunt Martha stands up silently, takes the silver chest, and pours soda into a crystal glass).

  AUNT MARTHA: (To the audience, speaking in a low voice while hugging the chest) Like I said, every lunatic to their own room... And the only truth is that that coin belonged to my grandmother... And she gave it to me to pawn only in case of emergency... Well, if you ask me, it was well spent... I'm glad this bunch of dreamers has at least a little bit of joy, fleeting, but joy... Truth is... tonight, right now... long live the dreamers!

  (The music swells heroically. The orange light completely envelops them as if they were a perfect family in a high-society magazine).

  SLOW CURTAIN

   superior to her family. Still, she’s the one who helps the most in tight spots.
• PAT (25): The young son. The "socialist revolutionary." He believes in class equality, especially when it comes to mechanics, Amazon couriers, or pizza delivery guys.
• MAVERICK (25): The neighbor. Handsome, a scammer, completely cynical.
• KEVIN (25): The pizza delivery guy. The only one with his feet on the ground. Hardworking, helpful, and usually polite.
• LULU (22): A family friend. Flashes empty high-end boutique bags; wears expensive brands—fake ones from DHgate, obviously.
• BEN (17): Sabrina’s friend. A "serial killer" only in his recurring nightmares; he’s a sleepwalker. He’s actually a sweet kid.

---

ONE ACT

(Setting: A living room in Silver Lake, a courtyard apartment complex in LA. It’s a spacious ground-floor unit, but it’s far from luxury. The main area tries to look "minimalist-chic" but screams "aspirational middle class" with pretentious West Elm-style furniture. Sabrina is glued to the window. Ellen sighs while looking at an old photograph. Sophia is reading. Jack is calculating numbers with a tragic expression).

SABRINA: (Breathless) He saw me, Sophia! He just looked at me with eyes of pure desire! The neighbor who walks around naked, the one who looks like a Greek statue… He put on his bathrobe and took out the trash just so I would see him leave. It’s a metaphor: "I’m cleaning up my life so you can move in." My goddess Aphrodite… He squeezed that organic compost bag with such passion...! He’s looking at me, he’s waving! He wants to marry me!

SOPHIA: (Without looking up from her sociology textbook) Or maybe he just wants to confirm you’re not a ghost pressed against the glass.

(Ellen serves tea in chipped porcelain cups but with her pinky finger lifted high in the air).

ELLEN: These porcelain cups remind me so much of the time I met Lance Sterling. We drove up to those fake Tudor McMansions on the way to Malibu. Lance looked at me with that charming smile, just like in his daytime soap Desire and Bitterness... His eyes were two lighthouses in the fog, and his lips seemed to promise acts of unbridled passion...

SABRINA: Who is Lance Sterling, mom? A TikToker?

ELLEN: He was the most wanted heartthrob on 80s television!

SOPHIA: (Condescendingly) Daytime soap operas, right?

JACK: (In his own world) Those mini-castles were pure drywall and cheap stucco, overpriced junk. They were smaller than our apartment, and honestly, what a drag to pay rent in a fake Camelot. At least I own my own place.

AUNT MARTHA: (Entering with a property tax bill) Your own place, Jack? Sure, but you still owe me half the down payment. You guys live well, a bit cramped, but well, thanks to me, so drop the ego. Ellen, Lance Sterling stared at you passionately because you almost spilled hot coffee on his lap… He wanted to murder you with his bare hands, but he wasn’t alone so he held back. I was there.

(Pat enters wearing a motorcycle helmet that is way too big for him. He looks radiant).

PAT: I was taken to Heaven ahead of time! Love annihilates the class struggle! A cyberpunk warrior gave me a ride on his steel stallion, risking his life and mine through the city traffic, without that destroying the tight bond that united us.

VOZ DE KEVIN: (From outside) Come pay me, bro! The ride wasn’t free. You said you wouldn’t take long… And you owe me a tip for the ride and the friction!

PAT: (Grabs an old, vintage-looking metallic chest and hands a huge coin through the window to Kevin) Your payment in specie! It includes the tip for the beautiful moments we shared on the asphalt! Return to your concrete domain, pizza deliverer, rider of the winged horse!

VOZ DE KEVIN: (From outside) Cut the crap, you freak. You think I'm an idiot? A dirty old coin, seriously? Next time I won’t service you even if I’m starving.

PAT: (To the family) See? He’s dying of love for me.

(Ellen is about to scold Pat for giving away what isn't his, but suddenly LULU enters, loaded with completely empty Saks Fifth Avenue bags, alongside BEN, who is pale and sweating).

LULU: Girls! Look at these deals at Balenciaga! Only for my size. They only make a hundred luxury pieces of each, and I was lucky enough to snatch three. The clothes are so fine the bags don't even weigh anything.

BEN: (Trembling) I need help, someone listen to me, someone forgive me. I can’t take it anymore... I did something terrible. There is blood on my hands. I did it, I am the killer... I killed without mercy, coldly, methodically, in the alley, with the scalpel and the pliers... it was so real. The LAPD is hunting me down.

SOPHIA: Ben, are you still asleep? You’re drooling... It’s just the nightmares that are hunting you down. Come, lie down and keep sleepwalking, but here on the couch... we’ll watch over you.

SABRINA: (Enthusiastic) Ben killed for love! Is it true, Benny? Did you kill an evil rival for me?

PAT: No, seriously... Dude, who did you kill?

BEN: (Goes into a brief, mild convulsion, but calms down after a few seconds. He adopts a "lotus position" on the couch and speaks to everyone in a soft, melodic Guru voice) You are all so kind, dear audience. I am a “hunger artist,” a Kafkaesque fakir... look at me, surviving on thin air.

LULU: (Fanning herself with an empty bag) Oh, Benny, how basic. I also survive on air, but my air is strictly VIP lounge AC. Did you hear me, skinny?

SOPHIA: Leave him, Lulu; he’s on airplane mode.

AUNT MARTHA: (Checking Lulu's bags) Hey, Lulu, this bag has a 7-Eleven receipt and it's empty. And your hoodie says "Hermez" with a "Z" and a lowercase "H". It’s a DHgate knockoff, sweetie.

LULU: (Ofended, fixing her collar) No way, Auntie! It’s an alternative edition for the Latin American market. European designers eliminate silent letters to simplify the concept. Less is more, right, Soph?

SOPHIA: (Without looking up from her book) Yeah, sure. Less intelligent is trending today. (Pause, looking at Sabrina) Max, Sabrina, stop looking at Ben like a lost puppy. And look at the sleepwalker, he’s back... Kafkaesque fakir, he says, but he’s looking at you like a lamb to the slaughter too. Your trance is over, right, Ben? Go to the kitchen and shell some peas. Let's see if the touch of vegetables brings back your common sense.

SABRINA: Only you understand what you just said, honestly, but I like the kitchen idea. Come on, Ben, walk with me.

BEN: I'm not a killer, I'm not a fakir... I'm a little lamb... Baaa.

(Sabrina and Ben walk toward the kitchen. Ellen looks out the window. Jack goes back to his numbers. Aunt Martha stands alone in the center of the room).

AUNT MARTHA: (Thinking out loud) In this house, calling someone "crazy" is a compliment.

(Suddenly, three sharp knocks hit the door. MAVERICK enters. 25 years old, gym body, cheap tight suit, and a fake leather briefcase that shines way too much. Sabrina peeks her head out from the kitchen in ecstasy; Ben follows her with a puppy-dog gaze, holding a bag of peas in his hands).

MAVERICK: Alright, family, enough is enough! I'm here to file a formal complaint! Parents, listen up. This little girl won’t stop staring at me! I look into my kitchen: there she is. It’s harassment, damn it! And let's clear one thing up: I am NEVER in my underwear at home! And that lie about “自由” or “Aphrodite” seeing me naked like a "Greek statue" is pure birdbrain delusion.

SOPHIA: Excuse us, pal! But who told you to walk around in your underwear, or worse, naked, in a building with so many windows? If you at least put up a curtain... But I'm warning you, my little sister is a minor, and we can charge you with exhibitionism.

MAVERICK: Oh, don't let her play the victim... She spies on me 24/7, it's true, she even blows me kisses from her window, the little degenerate! (Pause, changes tone) But don't get me wrong... I'm not here because I mind being looked at. I'm here because I'm watching you too.

SABRINA: (In love) I know you love me, that's why you show off your magazine body, that's why you're in your birthday suit when you go to the fridge.

MAVERICK: (Cynical, ignoring her) Right. I'm here for serious business... a business venture that's gonna make us all win. It's a total win-win. I have a special offer for you... physical Bitcoins for five hundred dollars! A bulletproof investment. And I also have Balenciaga bags of "mass exclusivity" straight from my trunk. I have "insider information"... on all of you. I know Jack hasn't paid rent in six months. I know Ellen thinks a soap opera actor was in love with her, but the truth is, Elenita, you weren't even a bad memory to him. I know Lulu buys her "clones" at the flea market, and that Ben has nightmares because his brothers beat him up... which is why he sleepwalks and grinds his teeth.

PAT: And what about me, you corporate tech-bro? You don't know anything about me?

MAVERICK: I do, but honestly, it's just sad. You're dying for the working class, but you're wasting your breath, hipster.

ELLEN: Leave my son alone, I support him... How do you know all this? What, do you have us bugged or something?

JACK: Look, nosy neighbor, how do you know all these lies you just made up? We can report you to the police for spying.

MAVERICK: No, no... Yes, yes... Well, little Sabrina here thinks she's a great spy... but I'm better. But let's forget the details. Since I know all your miseries... how about I make you rich so I don't go around talking trash about you... or leaking your hilarious dialogues... which I recorded...

(He plays a recording on his phone and Sabrina’s opening dialogue is heard: “He saw me, Sophia! He just looked at me with eyes of pure desire! The neighbor who walks around naked, the one who looks like a Greek statue… He put on his bathrobe and took out the trash just so I would see him leave. It’s a metaphor: 'I’m cleaning up my life so you can move in.' My goddess Aphrodite… He squeezed that organic compost bag with such passion...! He’s looking at me, he’s waving! He wants to marry me!”)

SABRINA: That's not me... it's a bad deepfake, it's AI...

MAVERICK: I didn't say it was you, kiddo, but you just told on yourself... Who wants to hear another recording? I assure you they aren't fake.

JACK: Alright, stop. Don't play another one.

MAVERICK: I like that attitude, neighbor... Say no more... So, who wants to invest in my crypto, "Silver... Coin"? Five hundred bucks a pop. If you don't invest, maybe it'll slip out to the bank that Jack is hiding his Prius so the repo man doesn't take it... Or that Lulu buys her rags at the swap meet.

LULU: (Screaming dramatically, covering her ears) Lies! Corporate slander! My bags have a pedigree!

SABRINA: (Horrified) I can't believe it... You're a monster! You're not a naked angel! I'm gonna cancel you, I'm gonna ghost you, you villain!

JACK: Neighbor, with all due respect, you are a low-life scammer.

MAVERICK: Exactly, respectable neighbor... Turns out that in the real world, making money is what matters, not robbing Peter to pay Paul... But don't worry, I'm inviting you into the business... Anyone want a "Balenciaga" from my trunk? I actually have my car out front... Because I always win, you know... Anything that isn't illegal is fair game...

(AUNT MARTHA grabs a broom that was by the door and starts chasing him all over the room).

AUNT MARTHA: That's what you think, but I've had it with you... Get out of here, you pathetic scammer! Degenerate! Thief! Get out or we'll report you for stalking young girls! And guess what, I have it all recorded too... let's hear your lies... (An edited recording of Maverick plays, sounding like a self-incrimination: "And that young girl… she’s dying for me and I’m gonna take her to… my house… I walk around in my underwear and 'Aphrodite' wants me naked like a 'Greek statue' with a birdbrain.")

MAVERICK: That's a crime! You're using my words against me... that is clearly edited, and badly edited!

ELLEN: Leave us alone, sir! Auntie... hit him with the broom, hit him hard so he doesn't come back!

(The Aunt, Ellen, Sabrina, Ben, and Sophia chase him, throwing peas and hitting him with the broom. Maverick finally exits among comical screams and laughs, trying to shield himself with his briefcase).

MAVERICK: Okay, okay, I'm leaving! Stop it, please! I forgive you, I swear I won't bother you again, stop...! (In the struggle, the briefcase flies open and several shiny gold coins fall to the floor before he escapes, slamming the door). These people are crazy!

LULU: (Scoops up a coin, bites the foil) I knew it! Authentic limited-edition Belgian chocolate. Maverick does have taste. (Stuffs them in her empty luxury bags).

AUNT MARTHA: Degenerate, makes me wish we had dogs to set on him!

SOPHIA: Low-life scammer.

JACK: But we can say one thing in his favor...

SOPHIA: I doubt it... What?

JACK: He doesn't pay rent, that interests me... (Sees Sophia's look) But no, he's not a good person, right? Better not ask. And I'm not gonna go look for him... I swear.

AUNT MARTHA: The nerve... At least you try to pay, Jack, you try, but you spend your life taking out unpayable loans to pay off unpayable loans, like the one I gave you... How long ago was that now?

(Silence. The embarrassment replaces the delusion. Ben goes back to the couch in "Guru mode". Sabrina cares for him. Nobody wants to look at Jack. Suddenly, the lighting changes to radiant colors and KEVIN enters carrying pizza boxes).

KEVIN: What's up, family! You went way overboard with the tip. Check it out: that silver coin the kid gave me was a collector's item... I took it to a pawn shop and they gave me enough to buy a pizza... Two pizzas. I'm from the neighborhood, but honesty comes first. They're yours if you let me sit down and have a slice of pepperoni.

PAT: (Looking at Kevin with tenderness) Come in, sit down, my featherless warrior, my hero of a thousand battles, honesty personified, the good heart of the neighborhood...

JACK: (Moved, interrupting Pat) Come in, kid. Take a seat... That one in the lotus position doesn't bite... or maybe he does, but right now he's on airplane mode.

SABRINA: Yes, come in, good man. You have arrived at the right place, gentle sir.

BEN: Oh come on, Sabrina, you're already replacing me? What about what we had?

SABRINA: You're the only one, Benny; you're my little lamb.

AUNT MARTHA: Well, well... This boy is worth a lot. You are welcome. Pat doesn't deserve you, but I'm glad you came looking for him.

KEVIN: Me, looking for him? I didn't say that...

ALL: (Teasingly, laughing) Come on, bro, admit it, you like him, it's obvious! Kiss, kiss! They're boyfriends, they're boyfriends!

KEVIN: Oh hell no, I'm outta here... I don't even like him, I have a girlfriend!

(Jack and Pat stop him by his delivery vest and lead him amiably to the couch).

---

FINAL SCENE

(The light in the living room changes to a golden orange reminiscent of a classic 1950s film. From the speakers of an old stereo, Beethoven's "Pastoral Symphony" begins to play. The family and guests sit on the floor in a circle around the cardboard pizza boxes on the ragged rug).

ELLEN: (In a dramatic soap opera narrator voice) In the end, the pizza is the exact same color as a sunset in the woods and on the beach...

SOPHIA: Mom, shut up. And pass the Ranch dressing.

JACK: (Taking a bite of the pizza) My dear wife thinks this is high-society pizza.

ELLEN: Don't talk about me like I'm not here.

LULU: (Wiping the cardboard box with a tissue, disgusted) At least the packaging is rustic vintage. This pizza tastes like European heritage, ideal for my palate.

PAT: (Looking at Kevin with tenderness) You came back for me, warrior of the asphalt. That much is clear.

KEVIN: (Taking a bite of the pizza and winking) No, dude, don't get your hopes up. I came back to give you your change, bro... But hey, the friction on the moped wasn't that bad. Next time I'll give you a free ride or let you drive. Just don't let my girlfriend see us.

PAT: Thank you, Lance.

KEVIN: Kevin… My name is Kevin. See how you are? All men are the same.

PAT: Not all of them, Kevin, not all of them... I will brand my forehead with your name in fire.

KEVIN: See what I mean? Stop being a clown.

ALL: Yeah, seriously Pat, you're too much... you're a hopeless romantic, leave that poor guy alone... he has a girlfriend, drop it.

JACK: Well, whatever... We can say we're happy, can't we? Who cares what happens tomorrow! Because today, right now, we have pizza, health, and a good mood. Long live pizza!

ALL: LONG LIVE PIZZA!

(Sabrina and Ben share a slice, looking like lambs. Jack and Ellen hold hands. Everyone chews to the rhythm of Beethoven's music while the light slowly fades into a picture of perfect, fake happiness. Aunt Martha stands up silently, takes the silver chest, and pours soda into a crystal glass).

AUNT MARTHA: (To the audience, speaking in a low voice while hugging the chest) Like I said, every lunatic to their own room... And the only truth is that that coin belonged to my grandmother... And she gave it to me to pawn only in case of emergency... Well, if you ask me, it was well spent... I'm glad this bunch of dreamers has at least a little bit of joy, fleeting, but joy... Truth is... tonight, right now... long live the dreamers!

(The music swells heroically. The orange light completely envelops them as if they were a perfect family in a high-society magazine).

SLOW CURTAIN