sábado, 6 de diciembre de 2025

3 PLAYS 3 for CLOWNS (Three Stages, Two Clowns, One Disaster.) By Benjamín Gavarre.

  




 

3 PLAYS 3

for CLOWNS

(Three Stages, Two Clowns, One Disaster)

By Benjamín Gavarre


® Benjamín Gavarre Silva


Contact: gavarreunam@gmail.com y 

benjamingavarre@filos.unam.mx  

 

 

FIRST SCENARIO


"THE TERROR TRIATHLON"

 

Characters:

  • THE COACH: Energetic, militaristic, wears a whistle and a stopwatch.
  • THE ATHLETE (BERT): A bit clumsy, but full of surprises. Wears ridiculous sportswear (maybe swimming goggles the entire time).

Props: A small bench or a medium stepladder (to simulate the bike or swimming), a water bottle, a towel.

(SCENE: THE COACH enters blowing the whistle. BERT enters jogging on the spot, highly motivated).

COACH: Hold it right there, Champ! Beast! Shark of the sidewalk! Today is the day. "The Widow-Maker Triathlon." Are you ready?

BERT: (Panting exaggeratedly) Ready, COACH! I was born ready! Well, I was born naked, but then I got dressed.

COACH: Focus, baby! CONCENTRATION: First stage: SWIMMING. Into the water, tadpole!

(BERT throws himself on the floor or bench and starts paddling like crazy).

COACH: Faster! Stroke! Imagine you are a barracuda! No, wait... imagine you are a friendly and supersonic dolphin!

BERT: (Spits imaginary water) Glub, glub! The water is freezing!

COACH: Watch out! There’s a shark chasing you!

BERT: (Panic) A shark?

COACH: Yes! And he’s holding a knife and a fork! Swim for your life!

(BERT swims super fast, doggy paddle style).

COACH: That’s it! Now watch out for the Evil Jellyfish! It’s going to sting you right in the... lower back... well, where the back ends! Right in the gluteus!

BERT: (Covers his butt while swimming with one hand) Yikes! Mommy!

COACH: Switch! Get out of the water! Transition to CYCLING! Grab the bike!

(BERT mimes looking for the bike, climbs onto an imaginary bike, the stepladder, or a stationary bike).

COACH: Pedal! Pedal like you stole it!

BERT: (Moves legs in the air) Stealing is wrong, Coach.

COACH: I know, it’s a metaphor! Pedal, Papa... Pick up the pace! Suck in your gut, shoulders down. More! More!

(BERT pedals so hard he almost falls face first).

COACH: Hey, hey! Stop looking at the guy’s butt in front of you! Focus on your own butt!

BERT: But he has very shiny shorts, COACH! They hypnotize me. They are "Mango colored" and I’m hungry.

COACH: You should be ashamed... Overtake him! You’re gonna get beaten by a chubby mango! You’re getting passed by grandmas on rollerblades!

BERT: (Pedals furiously) Nobody beats me! Eat my dust, Grandma!

(Suddenly BERT makes a face of supreme discomfort).

BERT: COACH! Ahem, ahem!... Technical problem!

COACH: Did you get a flat tire?

BERT: No! My little birdie popped out!

COACH: (Looks at BERT’s crotch) Don't stop! Let it ventilate! Set the birdie free! If the bird is out, let it fly!

BERT: But it’s cold!

COACH: Nobody is going to notice; it’s not like you’re going viral like that pole vaulter guy.

BERT: Why not me? I can model underwear too!

COACH: (Ignores him) Last stage! RUNNING. Get off the bike and run!

(BERT gets off and runs in slow motion, with a face of extreme suffering).

COACH: What are you doing? You look like an astronaut on the moon! Run properly!

BERT: My corns, COACH! All my bunions agreed to hurt at the same time!

COACH: Pain is mental! Imagine your feet are made of feathers!

BERT: (Runs leaping, very light and slightly feminine) Like this?

COACH: Not that much! Not that much! Run like a Gorilla!

(BERT runs making grunting sounds and gorilla gestures).

COACH: The finish line! There it is! Break the ribbon!

(BERT dives chest-first, in slow motion, towards the imaginary finish line. COACH gets excited and runs with him).

BOTH: (Yelling in slow motion) YEEEAAAHHHH!

(They cross the line, hug euphorically, jump up and down).

COACH: We did it, BERT! We are the Champions! We are the champions...

BERT: Thanks, COACH! (Panting) What place did we finish?

COACH: (Checks stopwatch) Dead last. But we won "Mr. Congeniality."

BERT: Yes! Bravo...

(BERT lifts his arms and the sound of ripping fabric is heard).

COACH: (Stands in front of him to block the view) Your birdie! Cover up... And let's go before you get arrested for indecent exposure!

BERT: But Coach, I want to be a Calvin Klein model...

COACH: No brand names! Don't say brand names!

END




 



 

SECOND SCENARIO

 

"THE RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE GYM"

(Versión en Inglés de "El Gruñón y El Fideo")

 

Characters:

  • THE GRUMP: (El Gruñón). Thinks he’s Mike Tyson. Stuffed muscles. Short-tempered.
  • THE NOODLE: (El Fideo). Skinny, weak, huge heavy gloves. Moves like a ballerina.
  • THE REF: (Referí). Takes all the accidental hits.

Sound: Bell, Crowd noise, "Ride of the Valkyries" (Wagner) or "Eye of the Tiger" (badly played on a flute).

(SCENE: Imaginary Ring. Epic music. GRUMP enters punching the air. NOODLE enters, gets tangles in the ropes, hangs there until REF untangles him).

REF: Ladies and Gentlemen! In this corner, the terror of the error... THE GRUMP!

(GRUMP roars and bends a pool noodle or a breadstick with two hands).

REF: And in this corner... He’s not a stick, he’s not a twig... He is... THE NOODLE!

(NOODLE waves, but the heavy glove hits his own face).

REF: I want a clean fight! No low blows, no biting, and no French kissing. Check your gear!

(They touch gloves. GRUMP hits hard, NOODLE bounces off the ropes).

REF: Let’s get ready to... Rhyme!

(They go nose-to-nose).

GRUMP: You son of a biscuit!

NOODLE: (Trembling) You son of a... brisket!

GRUMP: You have a face like a shoe!

NOODLE: And you smell like the zoo!

GRUMP: (Touches hair, offended) You look like a clown!

NOODLE: And your pants are falling down!

(Grump checks his pants panicked)

GRUMP: I’m gonna beat you black and blue!

NOODLE: I’m gonna sneeze all over you!

GRUMP: You are a bug, a flea, a louse!

NOODLE: And you belong in a mouse’s house!

GRUMP: I’m gonna turn you into confetti!

NOODLE: Jokes on you, I’m already spaghetti!

GRUMP: (Breaking rhythm) You think you’re a star?

NOODLE: I know you like me, just as you are.

CROWD VOICES (V.O.): "Get him!", "Snatch the wig!", "Take off his undies!"

NOODLE: (Looks at audience member) Hey you! The one in red! You want my undies?

VOICE: No thanks, I’m good.

NOODLE: Are you sure? They’re made of wood!

VOICE: That doesn’t rhyme, you fool.

NOODLE: But I look super cool!

GRUMP: Enough talking! Let’s fight, Sweetheart!

NOODLE: (Shaking like jello) I’m not scared, Grump! Look at my knees, they are dancing, not shaking!

(BELL RINGS: DING!)

(PHYSICAL FIGHT STARTS):

  • GRUMP jumps like a pro. NOODLE does ballet pirouettes.
  • GRUMP: "Stop dancing, Tinkerbell!"
  • NOODLE: "I am a bee, feel my sting!" (Tries to grab wig).
  • GRUMP throws a huge right hook. NOODLE ducks to tie his shoe. BAM! The REF gets hit in the jaw.

GRUMP: (Slow motion voice) I... will... crush... you.

NOODLE: (Slow motion) I... will... give... you... the... flu.

(GRUMP punches in slo-mo. NOODLE sneezes in slo-mo on GRUMP's face. GRUMP recoils in disgust).

NOODLE grabs GRUMP's hair.

NOODLE: Let me go or the wig goes!

GRUMP: It’s natural hair, you jealous stick!

CROWD: It looks like plastic!

NOODLE: See? Cheap plastic!

(NOODLE pulls. SNAP! He holds a ridiculous synthetic wig. Underneath, GRUMP wears a rubber swimming cap with duckies).

GRUMP: (High pitched scream) Ahhh! My secret! You Evil Noodle! I’m gonna make soup out of you!

THE KNOCKOUT:

GRUMP runs blindly at NOODLE.

NOODLE, surprisingly brave, holds out the wig like a Matador with a cape. "Olé!"

GRUMP trips on his own feet, face-plants into NOODLE’s hand (holding the wig), and knocks himself out.

REF: (Dizzy) One... two... potato! Winner by Wig-Out... THE NOODLE!

(NOODLE jumps to celebrate, uppercuts himself with his heavy gloves, and faints on top of GRUMP).

(Music: Fanfare for the Common Man).

 



 


  


THIRD SCENARIO

 

"PEPPER & THE MAGNIFICIENT"

 

Characters:

  • THE MAGNIFICENT (The Ringmaster): Wears an elegant tailcoat, top hat, carries a long whip. Very pompous, speaks with a fake "foreign" accent (French or Italian).
  • PEPPER (The Clown): Colorful clothes, big shoes, red nose. Carries a suitcase full of junk, a rusty trumpet, and "carries" a hidden water gun.

Props: A rope (or a tape line on the floor), a chair, a water gun, a colorful handkerchief.

(SCENE: THE MAGNIFICENT enters the center of the ring, very solemn. Opens arms to receive applause).

MAGNIFICENT: Mesdames et Messieurs! Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the most elegant, most expensive, and most... admired Circus in the world! Today, you will see acts of deadly danger... and numbers of unlimited virtuosity and magic. And we will start with...! With...!

(PEPPER enters playing the trumpet —or a whistle— horribly loud and out of tune: TOOOOT! Magnificent jumps in fright).

MAGNIFICENT: Enough! Enough! What are you doing here, you piece of mop-head?

PEPPER: (Stops playing) I’m here to spice up the broth, Boss. I am the National Symphony Orchestra all by myself!

MAGNIFICENT: You are just a symphonic disaster! Get out of my ring! The true artists of my Circus will be here any minute...

PEPPER: (Ironic) Oh, really?... The true ones, huh? (Looks at the audience) Well, it’s getting late... I don’t think they’re coming, you know? And the audience is going to get angry! They’re going to ask for a refund!

MAGNIFICENT: (Panic) No! No refunds! (Thinks about it) You have convinced me, Mr. Pepper. Just for this one time, you will be the understudy for the famous stars.

PEPPER: Me? Really? That is a huge honor.

MAGNIFICENT: Oooobey my orders. Let's go! First Act: The Suicidal Tightrope Walker!

(Magnificent points to a line on the floor).

MAGNIFICENT: Get on the tightrope! We are fifty meters high. There are gusts of freezing wind and pelicans flying through the air.

PEPPER: (Looks at the line on the floor) Hey Boss, this is very low. If I fall, I’ll only break... my fingernails.

MAGNIFICENT: Use your imagination, you insolent fool! Down there is no floor... there is a pit! And there is no safety net.

PEPPER: But there could be pillows? Water beds? Rolls of that bubble wrap plastic... the ones you squeeze and go pop, pop, pop...

MAGNIFICENT: No pop, pop! Only hungry Crocodiles!

(Pepper jumps in terror and steps onto the line trembling exaggeratedly).

PEPPER: Yikes! Mommy! Look at that crocodile! He looked at me like I was a sausage!

MAGNIFICENT: Walk, you big sausage! Keep your balance!

(Pepper walks keeping impossible balance, about to fall).

PEPPER: (Wobbles to one side) I’m falling! They’re gonna eat me! They’re putting mustard on me... I hate mustard!

MAGNIFICENT: Straighten up! Shoulders down.

PEPPER: (Straightens up) Phew! Hey, Boss... what if we put the safety net back?

MAGNIFICENT: It’s useless! But... Watch out! Here come the Giant Flying Piranhas!

PEPPER: No, for heaven's sake! Why do they have to be giant?

(Pepper starts swatting the air as if shooing flies while trying not to fall off the rope).

PEPPER: Get away! Not here! Go to a buffet... Shoo, get out! I am an artist, I am poisonous, I taste like cockroach...

MAGNIFICENT: Impressive! I didn't know all that... But now... Now the death leap to the platform! One, two, three!

(Pepper jumps, lands perfectly, and bows. Audience applauds).

MAGNIFICENT: (Jealous) Alright, alright, it wasn't that big of a deal. Next Act: The Mysterious Magic!

(Magnificent hands a handkerchief to Pepper).

MAGNIFICENT: Make this handkerchief disappear! Show your power!

PEPPER: Easy peasy! (Stuffs handkerchief in ear and pretends to pull it out of mouth). Ta-da!

MAGNIFICENT: That is disgusting, not magic! Do something classier! Sexier... more chic... Disappear... Water!

PEPPER: Water? Sexy water... Hmm... Okay... At your command.

(Pepper takes out the water gun).

MAGNIFICENT: Guns are forbidden.

PEPPER: Ah, but this is not a gun... It is the Organic Matter Disintegrator 3000. Watch. I shoot it and no water comes out...

MAGNIFICENT: I don’t believe a word you say.

(Pepper points up, shoots, and then runs so the water lands on Magnificent).

PEPPER: Yes, it came out... How does it look from over there?

MAGNIFICENT: (Wet) You imbecile! You wet my Tailcoat... And it’s a rental... you are paying for the damages!

PEPPER: It was gravity, Boss! Gravity failed, and the water is evil! I am a little Angel...

MAGNIFICENT: Enough! We will deduct it from your salary...

PEPPER: What salary? I’m a volunteer!

MAGNIFICENT: Quiet... Now! Let's go to the final act! The most dangerous one. The Lion Tamer!

PEPPER: (Takes a chair and the Director's whip) Ready! Bring out the lion!

MAGNIFICENT: (Looks around. Listens to information through an earpiece or similar). How?... Huh?... The lion is sick? He has the flu? Ah, he has a cough... Ah, I see, he has kennel cough... Very bad... (To Pepper) The lion has a dog’s cough, do you realize?

PEPPER: So who am I going to tame?

MAGNIFICENT: (Sighs resignedly) Oh well... You will have to tame me. I will act as the Killer African Lion of the Deep Jungle. And you are going to tame me. But with a lot of respect, okay?

PEPPER: Deal! Ladies and Gentlemen! Before you, the Lion "Magnificus" Incubus, succubus, leonidas... GRRR!

(Magnificent gets on all fours, roars without much enthusiasm: "GRU GRU").

PEPPER: (Cracks whip on floor) Roar like a man! No, better yet, Roar like a Killer African Lion of the Deep Jungle.

MAGNIFICENT: (Offended, stands up) Hey, show some respect! You don’t give me orders.

PEPPER: (Shows him the chair) Shut up, and do what I say, bad kitty.

(Magnificent gets truly angry and shows teeth to Pepper. Roars with fury trying to scare Pepper).

PEPPER: (Laughs) Ohhh what a fierce Lion! (Takes the whip and makes Magnificent get up on the chair) Stay, Kitty, Stay you fleabag cat, down, get off the chair, down to the floor and play dead.

MAGNIFICENT: (Realizes how ridiculous he looks, gets off chair) This is humiliating! Even for a lion. I demand respect!

PEPPER: Play dead! It’s not rocket science!

MAGNIFICENT: Never!

(Pepper takes out a delicious prop Chocolate bar).

PEPPER: And for a treat? Look, Pretty Kitty.... Mhhh. Chocolate!...

MAGNIFICENT: (Starts salivating, tasting the sweet) Treat? Chocolate? For me?

PEPPER: Sit! (Magnificent sits). Paw! (Magnificent gives hand). Play dead!

(Magnificent rolls onto his back, paws in the air like a happy puppy).

PEPPER: (Puts one foot on Magnificent triumphantly) Ladies and Gentlemen! The beast has been tamed!

(Audience applauds).

MAGNIFICENT: (From the floor) Hey... where’s my treat?

PEPPER: Oh, right!

(Looks like he is going to give the Chocolate, but instead squirts water from the gun in his face).

PEPPER: Here, have some fun... ha, ha... A refreshing bath!

(Pepper runs off playing the trumpet. Magnificent gets up furious and runs after him barking or roaring).

MAGNIFICENT: Come back here, you clown! I demand my chocolate, you rascal... I’m gonna catch you and you’ll see. You’re gonna pay for this!

END

 

 

martes, 2 de diciembre de 2025

DEEP CLEANING. By GAVARRE BENJAMIN.

  

 

DEEP CLEANING

By GAVARRE BENJAMIN

 

Characters:

·       CHRISTINA GUPSI: The Patient. Dressed in severe black. Dramatic, elegant but frayed around the edges. She has lost her status, but not her arrogance nor her oratory skills.

·       DR. MONICA: The Psychologist. Sober, professional. She tries to maintain control of the session but finds herself bulldozed by Christina’s energy.

 

Setting:

Dr. Monica’s office. Minimalist, modern, cold. A chaise lounge and an armchair.

Props: Christina brings with her, inexplicably, a cleaning kit: a broom, a mop, a rag, and a spray bottle.


(The "Habanera" from Bizet’s Carmen plays. The music enters forcefully. CHRISTINA GUPSI is not seated. She is standing, holding a broom, sweeping the office with rhythmic, fatal, and passionate movements, synchronized with the music. She sweeps as if she were killing ghosts.)

 

(DR. MONICA watches her from her armchair, pen frozen in mid-air, fascinated and horrified at the same time.)

 

DR. MONICA: Christina, please. Try to focus. Tell me, what lies behind this blatant compulsion? What is it that you, truly, wish to clean?

CHRISTINA: (Without stopping, voice deep and tragic) Dust, Doctor, is the past... pulverized. If I don’t move it, it settles. And if it settles, it suffocates me. (She sweeps furiously toward the Doctor’s feet). You see dirt; I see the ashes of my empire.

DR. MONICA: (Lifting her feet to avoid the broom) That is a very poetic rationalization for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Please, sit down. Let’s talk about the loss.

(The Carmen music lowers in volume, remaining as an unsettling sonic bed. Christina drops the broom and produces a rag and spray bottle. She begins to polish a side table with circular, obsessive movements.)

CHRISTINA: Loss? (She laughs bitterly, a rehearsed laugh). Loss is vulgar, Monica. Anyone can lose their keys or their wallet. I didn't "lose." I was... dispossessed. It’s different. Imagine it: I was at the summit. The society pages waited for me to decide the season's color before printing their covers. And suddenly... the void. The silence of the telephone is far more deafening than applause.

DR. MONICA: (Trying to take notes) Uh-huh. You feel your identity depended exclusively on the external gaze.

CHRISTINA: (She stops, offended. Sprays the air as if it were perfume) Oh, please! Don’t psychoanalyze me with fortune cookie wisdom. My identity was solid as this oak... (She rubs the table vigorously) ...but envy is a very industrious termite. I remember the dinner parties, Doctor. Dinners served on silver and gold platters. And I presided over the table. Now... now I sweep, I clean, I polish... That’s how I stop hearing that little voice chasing me. (Dramatic pause) Do you see this stain? Almost no one can see it, but I can.

DR. MONICA: That little voice chasing you... what does it say? Tell me the precise words you "hear."

(The music swells. The intense chorus of Carmen ("L'amour! L'amour!"). Christina grabs the mop. She embraces it as if it were a lover. She dances a brief, tragic tango with it while mopping the center of the stage.)

CHRISTINA: (Mopping furiously) It calls me a "Loser." Me! The Christina who lived for power. I was the incarnation of power! (She twirls with the mop). And now... (She stops dancing, stares into the void, music cuts abruptly). I only see small people. Grey people. People who buy shoes from the discount bin and feed on off-brand tuna. I see their faces; they are all miserable, with their common, despicable expressions...

DR. MONICA: (Sighing) You are projecting your contempt for your current situation onto others. That is called wounded narcissism.

CHRISTINA: (Ignores her. Changes tone. She stands tall. Drops the mop. Looks toward the "future" with an almost mystical illumination on her face). But the Phoenix does not rise from the ashes to stay in the chicken coop, Monica.

DR. MONICA: (Interested) Good. Let’s talk about the future. What do you see there? A real job? Reconnecting with your family?

CHRISTINA: (With disdain) Family? No, please, let’s be serious. I see... (She gestures as if sculpting the air) ...Consolidation. Empowerment. I see myself, not in a cubicle, but on a podium. A woman who has descended into the hell of public transport and returned to tell the tale.

DR. MONICA: Are you going to write a book?

CHRISTINA: (Pulls out the rag again and starts cleaning the frame of the Doctor’s university diploma hanging on the wall) I am going to be a Guide. A Martyr of Lifestyle. I will teach the masses how to fall with grace. Because anyone can climb, Doctor; that’s just a matter of luck or sleeping with the right manager. But falling... (She turns to the Doctor, eyes shining) ...falling without messing up your hair, that is an art.

DR. MONICA: Falling with grace and rising with elegance...

CHRISTINA: (Straightens the diploma frame with exaggerated precision) That is who I am. I may be down, but my comeback will be the return of the Hero, the Power Woman. Imagine the headlines: "The Return of the Iron Lady." I won’t need money anymore. Money is vulgar. I will be envied and worshipped. People will say: "Did you see Christina Gupsi? They say she lost everything, but she walks as if she holds the deeds to the City."

DR. MONICA: (Checks her watch) We are out of time, Christina. And frankly, this dissociation worries me. You cannot pay rent with "grace" and "worship."

CHRISTINA: (Gathers her cleaning tools with dry, military movements. The Carmen music returns softly for the close). How little imagination science has, Monica. That is why you listen, and I speak. You analyze life; I interpret it.

(Christina heads to the door. She stops, turns, and looks at the spotless office.)

CHRISTINA: By the way. I’m not paying for today’s session.

DR. MONICA: (Stands up, annoyed) Excuse me?

CHRISTINA: (Points to the shiny floor and polished furniture) I just saved you a week's worth of maid service. Let’s call it even. That’s market economy, darling.

(Christina exits, chin up, humming the Habanera. Dr. Monica is left alone, looks at the spotless floor, then looks at her diploma on the wall, slightly crooked.)

DR. MONICA: (Takes a step, slips, stumbles, but manages not to fall completely) Oh my God... She left the floor slippery. I nearly killed myself... with absolutely no grace or elegance! Sweet Jesus!

(Blackout).