STAND UP: THE SEXY FARMER. By Gavarre Benjamin.

 

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STAND UP: THE SEXY FARMER

By Gavarre Benjamin

 

By Gavarre Benjamin

 

This work has been published for free and open dissemination, although all intellectual property rights are reserved. Public use of this work requires permission from the author and for permission contact bengavarre@gmail.com or gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Inbox)

 

 

The Character Description:

 

Bart 'The Goat Whisperer': A young New Yorker (likely from Staten Island, given the setting) who works at a small sanctuary/educational farm on the city's periphery. He wears a baseball cap, a hoodie, and uses a mobile phone gimbal/stabilizer as his staff. He speaks with a fast, cynical, New York accent, and his humor is sharp, quick, and observational.

 

Act 1: The 'Bro's' Sanctuary Finds

 

(Club Stand-up Stage Instructions: STAGE LIGHTS UP. INTRO MUSIC (90s Hip-Hop beat) FADES. Bart enters with his tilted cap and his gimbal.)

BART: Yo, what up, New York? I'm Bart. And yeah, I'm the guy who takes care of the goats and sheep. (POINTS TO THE GIMBAL) It's not a staff, it's my streaming rig. I gotta document this madness!

People think farm work is peaceful. Lies! My life is a reality show about what people lose when they think they're off the grid.

I start every day searching for one single AirPod. Never the pair, never! Just one. With wax on it. I leave it on a fence, and the next day, a different model! I swear there's a cult that sacrifices one AirPod to nature after... a really intense Tinder date.

And yeah, I gotta watch my goats. Poor things! But the real danger is the city dudes. They come out here, get all inspired by nature.

(Imitates a soft, exaggerated Manhattan 'Yuppie' voice, leaning into the mic.)

One dude comes up to me and says: "Hey, Bart, those goats have such an organic vibe. What else do you have going on?"

And I gotta tell them my goats are for cheese and TikTok views, not for some weird rustic fetish! I gotta wave the gimbal at 'em!

But my best gig is the garbage. I'm a curator of lost, high-value items.

I found a gold chain (bling-bling). Next to it, some old roller skates. Some guy definitely tried to impress a girl, broke his ankle, and was like: "The chain is yours, but the skates are my pride!"

And then there's the herbs. One time, I found a little bag with some dried weed that smelled like incense and... stale college dorm. I thought, "Tea time."

I made my tea. Drank it. I went down like a sack of bricks! I slept so good! When I woke up, my goats were about to sneak onto the golf course. I almost lost my Christmas bonus over a wellness tea!

(A pause, with a sly look.)

But the revenge came with what I found next to the tea: some brownies! Brown. Weird. With a sweet smell, like forbidden college stash.

I said: "If that tea knocked me out, these brownies are the lift-off!"

(He leans in, winks, and points to his backpack.)

I saved 'em. I'm gonna try 'em tonight, when the moon's out. I wanna see if they give me wings to fly to Manhattan or strength to fight a raccoon. If you see me tomorrow doing parkour on the Verrazzano Bridge, you know what I had for dinner!

(He gives a 'PEACE' sign.)

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Act 2: Bart and the Nightmare of the Big Apple

 

(Bart returns to the stage. He is disheveled, acting with nervous energy, like he just woke up.)

BART: Yo, check this out! I had a dream last night! A nightmare and an hallucination all at once! I dreamed of Manhattan!

They say it's big, but it was like a hundred Yankee Stadiums stacked on top of each other!

The first thing I saw: yellow cabs! Boxes of metal moving themselves! With people screaming inside! I instinctively yelled: "Hold up, demonic Tesla!" And they didn't stop!

I tried to cross an avenue. I stood there for half an hour, like a tourist looking at the sky. Until I saw a crowd, dressed weird, with little headphones, walking super fast, like they were... ¡stampeding sheep!

I said: "Bart, ride the wave!" And I crossed. And the people looked at me like I was the idiot, and not the hundreds of taxis honking at everything!

But the most insane thing was that in the city, people lose stuff too!

In Central Park, there are expensive leggings, empty champagne bottles, and... lots of expensive takeout containers! It's the same garbage as the farm, but with better packaging!

And then, the girls. The ladies of the city! They were next level! Dressed in weird clothes, all shiny... And they're not necessarily more pure, they're just more professional. They stood on the corners, with a top model pose...

(He imitates an exaggerated catwalk pose, chin high.)

And the guys in suits came after them like geese. They wouldn't even look. And when the guys got too friendly and wanted to flirt, the girls would pull out a tiny box and put it to their ear! And they would yell in Chinese! And a black Uber would come and take them away! I think the cellphone is an anti-flirting weapon. I need one for my farm!

And the worst part...

I saw glass buildings so tall, they almost touched the airplanes! And people rushed in and out so fast, with coffee in hand and worried faces... And I realized:

Manhattan isn't a city. It's a giant treadmill!

People move so fast they don't see where they're going. They throw away more stuff than on my farm, because they don't have time to bend over!

I woke up sweating and hugged my favorite goat, Gary! Thank God I'm here, where the only technology is my mystery brownies!

(MUSIC FADES UP. Bart gives a 'PEACE' sign and exits.)

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Stand up del PASTORCITO SEXY. Monólogo/Stand up (En dos "Actos" o partes). Por Gavarre Benjamin.

Stand up

del 

PASTORCITO SEXY 

Monólogo/Stand up (En dos "Actos" o partes)

Por Gavarre Benjamin

Este trabajo ha sido publicado para su difusión libre y abierta, aunque todos los derechos de propiedad intelectual están reservados. El uso público de este trabajo requiere el permiso del autor y para obtener permiso comuníquese con bengavarre@gmail.com o gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Bandeja de entrada) 

1era parte, 

(Acto 1)

Stand up
del PASTORCITO SEXY 

 

Monólogo/Stand up (En dos "Actos" o partes)

 

Por Gavarre Benjamin

 

Este trabajo ha sido publicado para su difusión libre y abierta, aunque todos los derechos de propiedad intelectual están reservados. El uso público de este trabajo requiere el permiso del autor y para obtener permiso comuníquese con bengavarre@gmail.com o gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Bandeja de entrada)

 

1era parte, 

(Acto 1)

en el campo, tipo campiña española.

 

Personaje:

BART

 (BARTOLOMÉ ).

 

Bartolomé: Un pastorcito de unos veinte años. Su atuendo es una mezcla cómica de ropa campestre (chaleco, sombrero de ala ancha) y modernidad (zapatillas deportivas, y usa un palo selfie como su tradicional cayado). Tiene una mirada ingenua pero sus palabras revelan una picaresca y un humor negro basados en la observación aguda de la naturaleza humana.

 

Acto 1: 

Ovejita, dime tú

 

(Indicaciones de Club de Stand-up: LUCES DEL ESCENARIO SE ENCIENDEN. MÚSICA DE INTRO (posiblemente un fandango con ritmo electrónico) BAJA. Bartolomé entra con su palo selfie/cayado, llevando una mochila abultada.)

BARTOLOMÉ: ¡Buenas noches, Gente de Dios... Ejem... O... buena gente! Yo soy Bartolomé, el pastor de estas tierras. (HACE UNA REVERENCIA INCÓMODA) Y sí, mi trabajo es cuidar ovejas. Pero la verdad es que mi vida es ser el reportero no solicitado de la comarca.

Miren, a mí me dicen que el campo es puro, puro... Mucha pureaza eh...  ¡Mentira! Mi campo es una exhibición  desbordada de desahogos sin fin.

Mi día empieza igual: Voy por la campiña y encuentro un calcetín solitario. Nunca encuentro un par, ¡jamás! Solo uno. Sucio. Solitario. Lo dejo en una piedra, y al día siguiente, ¡ya hay otro diferente! (PAUSA CÓMICA, MIRADA SERIA) Algunas teorías conspiracionistas hablan de civilizaciones subterráneas que solo tienen un pie... Sin embargo eso no explica por que siempre aparece un calcetín diferente en esa maldita piedra...   Joder.

Y claro, mi rebaño. ¡Bendito rebaño! Las verdaderas amenazas no son lobos ni coyotes. ¡Son los mocetones calenturientos! 

Las mozas rara vez sueltan prenda, ya se sabe— y ellos vienen a mí,vienen siempre a mí y me hablan de manera encantadora... Ah, pero no, no piensen mal... ¿O bien?

(Imita una voz meliflua, se acerca al micrófono.)

Uno viene y me dice: "Bartolomé, ¡qué ovejita tan suave! ¿Teparece si la saco a pasear?"

¡Y yo me tengo que megar, y que ahuyentarlos con el cayado! ¡Les digo que el ganado es para la lana y para el queso, no para los mocetones hornie! ¡Qué no, y qué no, y olé!

Lo que a mí más me gusta es mi colección de hallazgos. ¡Soy todo un coleccionista!

Un día, encontré una cadena de oro macizo, como con unos signos satánicos y unas calaveras y caras de bruja... y así. Y bueno, al lado, unos patines... ¡Sí, patines! Quién sabe si eran de plata, pero estaban bien afilados. Seguro algún mocetón intentó un truco romántico, se cayó y dijo: "¡Nunca le hagáis una oracion a San Judas Tadeo, ni menos a la santa Muerte, por vida mía, que se cobran con patines!"

También he encontrado pelucas, sombreros, billeteras... Sin plata, vaya usté a creer... (SACUDE LA MOCHILA) ¡Y las bolitas pegajosas! Muchas bolitas chiclosas y llenas de requesón que me hacen sentir protegido, bueno, no a mí... es decir... Mis ovejas al menos tienen sexo seguro.

Y ya casi para terminar...  mis dos hallazgos estelares: la Yerba y el Postre.

Primero, va la aventura de la "Yerba Buena". Encontré una bolsita. Pensé: "¡Tisana medicinal!" Hice mi té, me lo tomé... ¡y caí como un saco de papas! Dormí tan a gusto que cuando desperté, mi rebaño estaba a punto de pastar en el jardín de la Biblioteca Central... jeje, estaré pensando en C.U.  O en sus Islas... No, nonono no... Biblioteca parroquial del siglo XVII... parroquial. ¡Casi me quedo sin rebaño por el misterioso té de "yerba" "buena"!

(PAUSA DE SUSPENSO CÓMICO.)

Pero lo que me compensó el susto fue lo que encontré justo al lado de la yerba: ¡unos panquecillos brillantes! Cafés. Raros. Con un olor dulzón, como a cosa prohibida. ¡Unos brownies de chocolate!

Yo me dije: "¡Si la yerba buena me durmió, estos panquecillos deben de ser la cura para todos los males o me dan alas para elevarme, Dude, we could'nt get much higher" Ah, ah, ha , ha, ha!" 

(Se acerca al micrófono, con gesto pícaro y ojo guiñado.)

Los voy a probar esta noche, cuando ya no haya luna. A ver si me dan alas de pájaro o fuerza de toro. ¡Si me ven mañana volando por el campanario, ya saben que me los chingué y me puse sexy, je, je!

¡Gracias!, y que si encuentran yerba buena,  oregano o yerba santa... Monchense, ¿vale?

(SALE RÁPIDAMENTE, DEJANDO EL PALO SELFIE EN EL ESCENARIO.)

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2da  parte 

(Acto 2)

Qué passsonsssote en Nueva Yorrr

 

(Bartolomé regresa al escenario. Está despeinado, actuando con energía nerviosa, como si acabara de despertar.)

BARTOLOMÉ: ¡Hola de nuevo! ¡No saben lo que me pasó anoche! ¡Creo que me adelanté al postre! Tuve un sueño... ¡un sueño horrible y maravilloso a la vez! ¡Soñé con la Ciudad Gótica!

O así... 

Dicen que la ciudad es tan grande como cien de nuestros pueblos, ¡pero soñé que era tan grande como Madrid, Toledo y toda la cosecha de trigo junta!

Y lo primero que vi... ¡fueron los automóviles!

(Se agacha, imitando un coche que hace ruido con la boca. Grito de terror.)

¡Unas cajas de metal que se movían solas! ¡Con ojos de vidrio que te miran! ¡Pensé: "¡Cosa del Demonio! ¡Carruajes embrujados que no necesitan burro!" Hacen un ruido infernal. ¡Yo grité: "¡Jesús, María y José! ¡Alto ahí, engendro de Vulcano y de las vulcanizadoras del futuro!" ¡Y no me hicieron caso!

Quise cruzar una de esas avenidas, que son como un río ancho de metal. Estuve media hora, ¡rezando un rosario! Hasta que vi un gentío, vestidas de forma rara, caminando a toda prisa, sin mirar, ¡como si fueran... ¡Borregos en estampida!

Y dije: "¡Bartolomé, sigue a la estampida!" Y crucé. ¡Y llegué al otro lado! ¡Y la gente me veía como si yo fuera el loco, y no las cajas de metal que andaban solas!

Pero lo más chocante fue que en la ciudad, ¡también dejan cosas tiradas!

En los parques de la ciudad, hay botellas de vidrio, zapatos elegantes y... ¡muchos papeles de comida rápida! ¡Es la misma basura que en el campo, pero más cara! Tiran más cosas que aquí, porque no tienen tiempo de agacharse.

Y luego, las muchachas. ¡Las mozas de la ciudad! ¡Qué diferencia con las nuestras! Ellas son sofisticadas. En mi sueño, estaban paradas en las esquinas, muy elegantes, con una pose de Dama Real...

(Imita una pose con la cadera hacia un lado, muy exagerado.)

Y los mocetones de la ciudad andaban detrás de ellas como gansos calenturientos, como los zagales con mis ovejas. Ellas ni les hacían caso. Y cuando el tipo se ponía muy alegre y quería un acercamiento, ¡ellas sacaban una caja pequeña para hablar por teléfono, jeje,  y se la ponían en la oreja! ¡Y gritaban! ¡Y venía otro coche embrujado a llevárselas!

(SE ENCOGE DE HOMBROS) ¡Yo creo que esas cajas pequeñas son alarmas anti-acosadores; es la versión moderna del cayado!

Y lo peor: ¡La yerba! En el sueño, todos querías que les diera de mi té misterioso. Yo sí les comparttyía la verdad, porque me dijeron que es lo que hay que hacer... igual con uno como tabaco apestoso que ese no me gustó porque me dio sueño... 

Ya cuando todos se habían acabado el cigarrito y quemado los dedos de señorita... se estuvieron carcajeando de que me echara pedos sin pedir perdon... o que un carrito de morcilla se voltera al cruzar la calle... Ya después todos se fueron al al mismo tiempo sin despedirse siquiera, caminando rápido y chocándose!

(Finaliza con energía y miedo fingido.)

¡Desperté sudando y abracé a mi borrego más cercano! ¡Gracias al cielo que estoy aquí! Donde la única tecnología son mis brownies y mi palo selfie!

¡Gracias! ¡Y por favor, no tiren más calcetines! ¡Ya 

tengo una tonelada!

(MÚSICA VUELVE A SUBIR. BARTOLOMÉ SALUDA Y SALE.)

(LUCES A NEGRO.)

Holy Cosmic Entanglements, Robot. By Gavarre Benjamin

  

 

 

 

Holy Cosmic Entanglements, Robot.

By Gavarre Benjamin

 

This work has been published for free and open dissemination, although all intellectual property rights are reserved. Public use of this work requires permission from the author and for permission contact bengavarre@gmail.com or gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Inbox)

 

 

Intergalactic Voice:

The planet Beta Cheta, where the walls are made of iridescent cement and the atmosphere smells like wet cotton. The horizon, instead of the sea, is a cosmic landfill of space junk:

Life is a cosmic comedy of errors!

 

A far-flung intergalactic landscape of purple rocks and craters that exhale a vapor smelling of used socks. In the background, the battered remains of the ship "Saturno-0003", smoking comically. The vegetation is alien, with curly stems that look like mustaches.

 

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 Cast of Characters: Cosmic Misfits

• DR. CATET: The Vain Coward. Overly dramatic, obsessed with his appearance and status; the inevitable, yet hilariously ineffective, traitor.
• DOÑA MAMALÚ: The Domestic Matriarch. Practical, exasperated, and reduces cosmic crises to matters of kitchen and nutrition.
• DON ROBINAL PATINSON: The Enthusiastic Pseudoscientist. The eccentric patriarch whose bizarre geological theories drive the action.
• OLÍN PATINSON: The Practical Observer. The young boy, capable of fixing things (with a spoon) and understanding alien languages.
• PENNYLANE PATINSON: The Melodramatic Documentarian. The teen who records every event, exaggerating the horror for her diary.
• NANCY SINIESTRA: The woman with Boots for Walking. Sexy, pragmatic, and believes style and dancing are superior to any survival strategy.
• MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: The Frightened Hero. A military man whose courage quickly fails, relying on bubbles and fertilizer squirts for defense.
• EL ROTOB: The Crybaby  Robot. The harbinger of doom, prone to logical failures, and the constant victim of the crew's absurd chaos.

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SCENE I: The Crash Landing and the Robotized Lament

(The curtain opens. The ship "Saturno-0003" is still emitting green smoke. Olin Patinson tries to "fix" the ship with his selenium spoon. Dr. Catet looks at himself in a hand mirror. Don Robinal Patinson examines a rock. Doña Mamalú organizes luggage.)

DR. CATET: (In a dramatic voice. He feels an itch on his cheek and looks with horror.) Oh, cruel fate that throws me onto these unknown rocks! My face, besieged by Betasigmic germs, my lush complexion ruined by space mud! My prestige, shattered! I won't be able to appear on Intestelar in its delayed broadcasts! I would rather have been devoured by an "Octopus Longarm" than by these mosquitoes or fleas or nits or mites or whatever Venusian bugs they are!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: (In an "exhausted mother" voice) Dr. Catet, please! You know very well they are mosquitoes because you brought them from Earth, and they reproduced here.

DR. CATET: My fault, oh, mother dear, all me... Next, they'll be saying I'm the one to blame for losing the course of our intergalactic journey. When clearly it was Don Robinal for his obsession with turning off the GPS to "find stellar shortcuts"!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: Doctor! Stop complaining and help find the "Quantum Molecule Generator" that Don Robinal says is either here or not here, which might help us, but also might not... We should have brought a quantum Schrödinger's cat; at least you'd know if that helps... Dr. Catet, stop looking at your big face and help!

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: (Without looking up from the rock) Silence, Mamalú! This rock that looks like gelatin and granite possesses a bio-stellar rarity that could be the key to interdimensional teletransportation! Look, look how the reflections of the sunlight appear and disappear...

DOÑA MAMALÚ: That's because you point your flashlight and then stop pointing... Give me some of that gelatin with granules, let's see if I can make a nutritious soup.

DR. CATET: (In a dramatic voice) Granules, oh, no, the horror, I don't want to hear about granules anymore...! My mother, my holy mother, I don't want soup; I just want to end these wicked mosquitoes once and for all... I never, never invited a mosquito aboard!

NANCY SINIESTRA: (Looking at her reflection in a broken ship window) I'm going to put on my sexiest boots and conquer Major Pheromone Squirt... with my charms and a good escape plan.

PENNYLANE PATINSON: (Writing feverishly) Silence, Nancy! I'm documenting the "Talking Rock Monster" that's stalking us! It surely has five eyes and speaks in the language of the ódogo éguede ágadas ígodos úgudos!

OLÍN PATINSON (in ógodo language): Cottonógodo is stuckógodo in the carburetorógodo! I think it's a wickedógodo mosquitoógodo.

(The Rotob appears, walking awkwardly.)

EL ROTOB: Alert! Alert! Danger, Child Olin Patinson! My vibrating antennae have detected... the presence of a... "Furry-Legged Being with Bad Intentions"!

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: (Drawing a laser pistol that shoots soap bubbles) Holy furry beings with eight legs and something dangling...! Unbreakable courage! (Tripping on a rock, he falls flat on his face.) Oh, my knees! Oh... It's going to cover me with its legs... there are more than eight, and no, it's not just one furry scrotum, it's two, it's three furry scrotums! Help!

(Everyone ignores him, except Nancy, who steps on one of the creature's legs.)

NANCY SINIESTRA: Fear not, Major Pheromone Squirt, for Nancy Siniestra never feared. Give it a squirt full of your pheromones, and you'll see it will want to give you kisses.

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: No, no, not kisses... I want it off me...

NANCY SINIESTRA: Very well, my Major... I'm going to kick it with my boots, because you should know, Major, that these boots were made for walking... and for kicking cosmic creatures.

(Music: Brief choreography by Nancy Siniestra. The monster and the Major join in.)

EL ROTOB: Danger, danger... A terrible and fierce alien is coming... it's going to kill us...! We must sing before we die...! These boots are made for walking, for walking...!

NANCY SINIESTRA: Shut up, Rotob, you don't have boots... And stop singing off-key!

OLÍN: The Rotob is right: Something moved behind those Rocks.

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: We must be prepared.

DR. CATET: Good Heavens! Good Heavens! Please, mother of my life, get me out of here!

(The Furry-Legged Monster and The Rotob exchange incomprehensible dialogues. Confusion, lights. Suddenly, from behind a rock appears a small, pink and purple, furry creature with bulging eyes: the Intergalactic Chick.)

OLÍN: Back, wicked chicken!

NANCY SINIESTRA: Back, wickedógodo chickenógodo!

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: Eureka! It's a new species of "Intergalactic Chick"! We could study it, or better yet, we'll have roast chicken!

DR. CATET: (Hiding behind the Rotob) Oh, Heavens, Heavens, I'm so scared... and I want to go home to my mom for triple-scoop ice cream!

EL ROTOB: Warning, Dr. Catet! My sensors indicate that pathetic crying irritates it greatly! Oh... it launched an ultravoltaic ray at me and finished my operating system...

(The Intergalactic Chick pecks at Rotob's foot. The Rotob recovers with a high-pitched voice.)

EL ROTOB: Oh, my titanium foot! Help, Olin Patinson! This wicked Chick pecked my legs, and now I'm terribly itchy and can't scratch!

OLÍN PATINSON: (With his spoon, tries to hit it) Leave my robot friend alone, "Denatured Chicken"! Or you will suffer the wrath of Olin the Loner!

NANCY SINIESTRA: Oh, be quiet, I'm going to step on you with my boots that are made for walking and also work for scratching the itch. Take that, take that, you idiot Rotob!

(The Chick leaves. Don Robinal sighs.)

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: What a shame! My dinner escaped... or my great discovery! And with it, the patent for the "Stellar Roast Chicken"!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: (Exasperated) For the love of the stars, Don Patinson! We can eat boiled potatoes, remember we grow potatoes, lots of potatoes, thanks to my universal organic fertilizer!

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: (Standing up) And I was responsible for them growing so fast because I fertilized them with my special squirt. (He comically falls unconscious.)

DR. CATET: (Maliciously) Mmmh how tasty... the bad thing is that those potatoes without ketchup or hot sauce taste worse than selenium chloride. And well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to look for my "VIP Survival Kit" (Aside) Which still has some emergency salmon cans.

(Dr. Catet leaves. The Rotob looks at Olin Patinson.)

EL ROTOB: Danger, Olin Patinson! My sensors detect a high level of... of... "Unleashed Cosmic Madness"!

OLÍN PATINSON: (Sighs, uses his spoon to scratch a piece of the ship.) I know, robot friend, I know! But at least we have JOY, Hope, good humor... And who am I kidding! We are lost in Space!

EL ROTOB: Ha, ha, ha... that's a good one...

 

SCENE II: The Mineral Misunderstanding and the Eruptive Drama

(Ten minutes later. Don Robinal Patinson is rubbing the "Granite-Gelatin" rock against the fuselage. Dr. Catet returns, looking more horrified.)

DR. CATET: (Advancing dramatically) The horror! The HORROR! My "VIP Survival Kit" was empty! There was only a note: "The salmon expired. Eat potatoes. Regards, Mamalú"!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: (Without looking) I told you to eat the salmon two days ago, Doctor! And potatoes are rich in starch!

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: (Excited) I've confirmed my theory! This rock has inverse magnetic properties! (The rock sticks to the armor of the Rotob, who walks by.)

EL ROTOB: Alert! Solid-viscous object adhered to my titanium limb! Geological contamination!

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: Eureka! Now the Rotob is a "Patinsonius-Rotob Molecule Generator"! Keep rubbing, my son, Olin!

OLÍN PATINSON: (Rubbing the rock with the spoon) Rubbógodo, rubbógodo!

EL ROTOB: Pain! My operating system registers an irritating tickle level 7!

DR. CATET: (Horrified) That's the key! That rock is what has been causing all my spots! Rotob, you are a focal point of cosmic infection!

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: Back, blob of sebum and gelatin! (Shoots bubbles at the Rotob.)

(The Rotob shakes violently. The rock flies out and hits a nearby crater, causing a comical eruption of lime-green vapor.)

DR. CATET: (Terrified) Good Heavens! The vapor smells like rotten cucumber! It's the gas that ruins my interplanetary Botox!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: (Sniffing) Mmm, no! It smells like concentrated chicken broth! How nutritious! I'm going to try to capture it in a thermos!

(Doña Mamalú runs to the crater with a pot. Don Robinal chases her. Nancy and the Major leave.)

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: Towards the space junk, Nancy! They say they sell the best sunglasses there for an escape with style!

DR. CATET: (To the audience, dramatically) And so, my dear friends, that is how Science and Cooking conspire against Beauty in the far reaches of the universe!

 

SCENE III: The Gelatinous Climax and the Traitor Amongst Us

(It is night. The crew, minus Dr. Catet, is gathered around a huge pile of Granite-Gelatin.)

DOÑA MAMALÚ: Try my Patinsonius Granite-Gelatin! With a touch of crater vapor for broth flavor!

OLÍN PATINSON: (Eating) It's delicious, Mamalú! It tastes like cosmic pineapple and pure science!

(A loud sucking noise is heard. The gelatin pile begins to shrink. The head of a Giant, Slimey Worm emerges.)

EL ROTOB: Alert! Alert! Presence of a "Gelatin-Devouring Polymer Worm"!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: Vile monster! Leave my family recipe alone!

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: It's time for the fertilized counterattack! Don Robinal, reload!

(The Major fires his "special squirt," and Don Robinal throws chunks of the Gelatin. The gelatin regenerates inside the worm, inflating it.)

EL ROTOB: The worm is now a gelatin balloon! I suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress from Giant Chicken and sticky jelly!

NANCY SINIESTRA: (Tries to step on it) It's like trying to step on a cloud of snot!

EL ROTOB: Rotob's "Lightning and Thunder Ray Launcher" Mode! (It launches sparks.)

DOÑA MAMALÚ: The potatoes! Throw the boiled potatoes at it!

(Everyone throws piles of potatoes at the Worm.)

THE WORM: (Stops eating gelatin, sniffs a potato, makes a face.) Oh-godo... Bl-and Po-ta-toes! (It eats a potato, turns green.) No ketchup! It's the most tasteless thing in the known universe! (The Worm, with a dramatic look of disgust, runs away at full speed.)

DON ROBINAL PATINSON: The blandness of boiled potatoes has saved the universe!

(They see Dr. Catet devouring potatoes with ketchup.)

DR. CATET: (Laughing maniacally) Mmmh! What delicious potatoes with ketchup! You can eat your Granite-Gelatin, I'll keep my treasure!

DOÑA MAMALÚ: Dr. Catet! Come here and share the ketchup.

DR. CATET: Fools! While you were playing, I repaired the escape module! The expired salmon and the ketchup were a distraction! It was always my plan!

(Dr. Catet runs to the ship, enters, and slams the hatch shut. The engine makes a "clack-clack-POOOF" noise.)

DR. CATET (Voice-over): Farewell, simpletons! I'm going to find a planet with hot sauce! HA HA HA!

(The ship lifts two meters and crashes down. The ketchup bottle rolls out.)

EL ROTOB: Warning! The engine has failed again! Dr. Catet only flew two meters! And the ketchup fell out of his pocket!

NANCY SINIESTRA: (Retrieving the bottle) The Gelatinous worm is not sexy! Major, you know what's sexy? Dancing!

MAJOR PHEROMONE SQUIRT: It's true, Nancy! Dancing!

EL ROTOB: My logic sensors are at 0%! Only rhythm remains!

NANCY SINIESTRA: These boots!

ALL: These boots!

NANCY SINIESTRA: Were made for walking.

ALL: Were made for walking.

(The entire company performs a final choreography while sharing the ketchup. Dr. Catet cries miserably inside the ship.)

(Fast Curtain. End of the Cosmic Farce.)