Good
Lord! Is This Heaven?
(A
Theological-Absurd One-Act Farce)
By
Gavarre Benjamin
© INDAUTOR
BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA
CONTACT: bengavarre@gmail,com
gavarreunam@gmail.com
CHARACTERS:
- FATHER GOD
(Emmanuel): A very portly man with a long
white Santa-style beard, dressed in a golden tunic. A small personal cloud
floats over his head, and a white dove circles it non-stop, making him
dizzy.
- THE ANGEL (Fabrice):
GQ-cover handsome. Flawless Italian suit under his wings.
- THE STUD (Jonas):
Athletic, tank top, gym shorts. Admires Angel Fabrice.
- THE DEVIL (Satan):
Panto-style, with horns and a red satin cape.
- THE FLIRT (Vero):
Flirty, easy laughter.
- THE PSYCHO
(Lucrecia): Wild-eyed, carrying a
"bomb" (a wrapped bottle).
- THE FLUTIST
(Cornelio): A musician always harassed for
his shrill instrument.
- THE NAG (Karen):
His wife, an expert at making the Flutist’s life miserable.
- THE MIRROR COUPLE
(Flor and Echo).
SCENE
ONE
(Heaven.
Golden and blue postcard aesthetic, but terrible organization. FATHER GOD is on
his cloud-throne, trying to dodge the dove circling his forehead).
FATHER
GOD: (To the dove) Stop it, you filthy bird!
Go peck someone else! You’ve got my nerves frayed like a cat in heat! Angel
Assistant! Focus! Stop flirting with the new arrivals!
(THE
ANGEL and JONAS are sitting on opposite clouds, but leaning toward each other.
Their phones vibrate in unison with a funny celestial chime).
JONAS:
(Looking at his phone, sighing) "Your gaze is my vanilla sundae in this
vast white void..."
ANGEL:
(Typing with a perfect smile) "And your summer smile lifts me to the ninth
heaven—no wings required!"
FATHER
GOD: (Yelling) I can hear you, lovebirds! I
see everything, read everything, and hear everything! And frankly, I’m getting
a toothache from all this sweetness. Less sugar, more work! Angel Assistant,
I’ll send you down to the Great Enemy if you don’t snap out of it.
(The
FLUTIST enters. He carries a tiny flute and starts playing a shrill,
repetitive, and horribly out-of-tune melody: Toot-toot-toot-toot-TOOOOT).
FLUTIST:
Finally! I can play my flute without anyone complaining! No one to tell me to
“Stop making that noise!” (Toot-toot-toot-toot-TOOOOT)
FATHER
GOD: My son! For the sake of Merciful
God—that’s me—stop that torture! Or I’ll stop being merciful and send you
straight to Hell!
FLUTIST:
I’m enjoying my freedom, Your Honor! I’ve left behind the chains of nagging
matrimony! (Toot-toot-toot-toot-TOOOOT)
FATHER
GOD: Angel Assistant, listen to me or I’ll
clip your wings! Do something or I’m sending you and the Piper here to
Purgatory!
ANGEL:
(Staring at Jonas) Oh, Your Honor... let the man express himself. His piping
tickles me, puts me in a good mood! Do you like the flute, big guy?
JONAS:
(Sings) I like the rhythm, I like the beat, I like the flute, but you’re the
treat!
FLUTIST:
See, Your Honor? The experts have spoken! My music puts them in a good mood! (Toot-toot-toot-toot-TOOOOT
- Plays the highest note possible right in God’s ear).
(THE
NAG (Karen) enters. She’s wearing hair rollers, a peach silk robe, and a scowl
that could curdle milk).
THE
NAG: Cornelio! I can hear your whistle all the
way from Manhattan! Drop that tin pipe and ask for a cloud for two; don’t think
you’re getting away from me!
FLUTIST:
(Freezes, pale) Oh no! It’s the "Karen" of my nightmares!
THE
NAG: It’s your better half, you dummy. Listen
to me for once. Shut up and drop that ridiculous flute.
FATHER
GOD: Whew! Thank you, woman! I wasn’t sure
whether to send your husband to Hell or turn him into a swamp lizard... Look,
since you managed to silence him, I’ll send him to a remote cloud far away from
everyone, and for you, a consolation prize. A celestial companionship device...
It vibrates like a god, has three speeds, and is whisper-quiet.
THE
NAG: (Takes it, examining it curiously) It
vibrates? And it’s silent? I’ll take it!
THE
DEVIL: (Popping up with a jump) Excuse me,
ma'am! If you like technology, my catalog has things that make that toy look
like a useless box. I’ve got Sin-Swings, Werewolf-Women with fire-whips, and an
"Ergonomic Sin" section that is a real gem. Easy monthly payments!
THE
NAG: No thanks, Pot-bellied Devil. I’ll stick
with my cloud... and my gadget.
THE
DEVIL: You’re cold, Karen! I’m going to take you
to the eternal coals!
THE
NAG: Oh, shut up, you Halloween-store Devil.
I’ve got my private suite and my three-speed gizmo—three! Right, Big
Guy? (God nods, annoyed). See? I always win. (Exits triumphantly).
THE
DEVIL’S FAILED BULLYING
THE
DEVIL: (Frustrated) No one has the slightest
respect for me anymore! (He turns on the young lovers) You two! You think
you’re so modern? Look at you. A few centuries ago, you’d have ended up on a
stake or burned alive. Of course, the "Wokes" are to blame, and now
you’re not just the sin, you’re the role models! Yeah, right... ha, ha, ha...
Look at them, so perfect and manly... and they don’t even look at me. Well, I’m
the Devil, do you hear me! I’m going to rip your wings off and eat you like
shish-kebabs!
ANGEL:
(Undeterred) Oh, shut it, you red bug! Our private life isn’t public business!
THE
DEVIL: Private my horns! If your life is so
private, go find a motel; this is a family environment!
JONAS:
(Unfazed) The Devil giving us "good" behavior tips... Take your tips
and shove them up... your red tail.
ANGEL:
(Interrupting) He’s not worth it, baby. Let him drown in his own bitterness...
THE
DEVIL: Ha! So you don’t admit your lifestyle is
an assault on the good customs and sanctity we all seek... we... Devils?
Devils, what am I saying... Get it together, Satan, get it together... Yes,
yes, I’m the Devil, I’m evil. Mwahahaha... Fine, you win, but now... I...
JONAS:
(Stands up, flexing his muscles) Listen, Horns... why so much interest in our
lives? Don't you have anyone to love you, even just a little bit? Go find
yourself a She-Devil or a little imp?
ANGEL:
I think the Devil is looking for a "He-Imp," Jonas. He’s dying for a
companion; you can smell the desperation. That’s why he’s bothering us. You
like us or what? If you want, we can give you some Tinder tips.
THE
DEVIL: (Red with fury) I don’t need Tinder! I am
Temptation Personified!
JONAS:
Oh, please! That satin cape is adorable, honey. Come here, let us fix those
horns; they’re crooked... Want us to make them firm so you have something to
hold onto?
THE
DEVIL: (Backing away, nervous) Don’t touch me! I
am the Evil One! I am the terror of the abyss!
ANGEL:
(Winking) Oh, Satan... the loudest critic is usually the most jealous. You’re
dying to be in a private cloud with us, aren’t you? Admit it.
THE
DEVIL: Unheard of! I’m going to tempt the people
in the waiting line; they’re easier! I don’t even like you! Go to Hell—I mean,
go jump in a lake! (He flees dramatically but bumps into THE FLIRT).
THE
FLIRT
THE
FLIRT: (Velvet voice) Whoa there, tall, dark,
and hellish! Where are you going in such a rush with that playful tail?
THE
DEVIL: (Backing up) Get back, woman! Stay away
from my cape; it’s pure satin! I am the Prince of Darkness; respect the title!
THE
FLIRT: (Circling him) Oh, listen to you! Look at
that posture... and those goat legs... Ooh! Are they pure muscle, or do you do
a lot of Crossfit in the pit? They look very... firm.
THE
DEVIL: (Covering his legs with his cape) It’s my
demonic anatomy! It’s for climbing the rocks of the Abyss! Stop looking at me
like I’m a piece of meat!
THE
FLIRT: (Whispering in his ear) And the horns,
handsome? They look so solid... Do you know how to use them for something fun?
Because I know a few yoga positions where they’d come in real handy...
THE
DEVIL: (Trembling) HELP! This woman has no
morals! Big Guy, do something! Help, she wants to dishonor my pitchfork!
THE
FLIRT: Don’t run, Horns! I just want to see if
you really spit fire!
THE
DEVIL: (Fleeing) Don’t touch me! I’d prefer an
eternity of holy water! I’m leaving, but I swear I’ll come back with a
battalion of demons who won't let themselves be manhandled! MWA-HA-HA... oh,
mama! (Disappears).
THE
FLIRT: (Touch up her lipstick) Good grief. So
big and such a coward... Oh well, I’ll have to find someone else.
MIRROR
OVERLOAD AND SUGAR SHOCK
FATHER
GOD: (Looking at his tablet) Guys, I’m okay
with your lifestyle, basically, but... do you have to be so mushy? I just read
another message! "Your smile is the red wine in which my soul is
poured"... "You are like a lotion that turns to honey on my
skin!" I’M GOING TO VOMIT! Angel Assistant, Jonas, it’s an order! Show
some decorum, for Me’s sake!
ANGEL:
But Boss!
JONAS:
You don’t realize we’re in love.
FATHER
GOD: I realize it, but I’ve got a sugar
overdose. You’re moving to Cloud 9, and you’re taking The Flirt with you!
(THE
FLIRT arrives and starts licking their hands).
ANGEL:
But Boss! We want privacy!
FATHER
GOD: Privacy, my foot! (Taps THE FLIRT with
his gavel—BOOM! She turns into a massive Saint Bernard dog). There you go! Now
clean up the slobber and take her for a walk every day through the clouds! And
don’t give me those faces.
(FLOR
and ECHO—The Mirror Couple—enter).
FLOR:
Oh, light of my days!
ECHO:
Oh, light of my days!
FATHER
GOD: (Clutching his head) No, please! Shut
them up!
ECHO:
No, please! Shut them up!
FLOR:
I’ve waited centuries for you, my love...
ECHO:
I’ve waited centuries for you, my love...
FLOR:
You are the remedy for so many nights of insomnia and sadness, my life...
ECHO:
...my life.
FLOR:
(Ecstatic) My heart beats to the rhythm of your divine breath... oh sweet
master of my will...
ECHO:
...will.
FATHER
GOD: (Collapsing) Angel! Do something! My
blood sugar is spiking! I feel like I’m turning into a marshmallow!
FLOR:
I feel like I’m turning into a marshmallow!
ECHO:
A marshmallow, mallow, mallow...
ANGEL:
Boss, I have the cure! But on one condition: Take the Saint Bernard off our
hands! We want to live alone in our bachelor cloud!
FATHER
GOD: Anything! Just make them stop repeating
everything!
FLOR:
Everything, thing, thing!
ECHO:
Everything!
ANGEL:
(Snaps his fingers) You two! Look into the dog's eyes! (He leads them to the
Saint Bernard, who stares with wide, saucer-like eyes).
FLOR:
(Leaning in) Oh! What a crystalline surface!
ECHO:
Crystalline!
ANGEL:
You see, Boss? The Flirt, now a dog, will seduce them with her gaze... and make
them feel like they're the greatest things in existence.
FLOR:
(Hypnotized by her reflection) I am a marvel... I am the best!
ECHO:
I am a marvel... I am the best!
ANGEL:
They’re so happy being themselves they don’t need to talk anymore... they’re
entranced... Look, they aren’t even blinking!
FATHER
GOD: (Getting his color back) Finally!
Silence... Angel, you’ve earned a promotion.
ANGEL:
So, Boss... Jonas and I can go to our private cloud?
FATHER
GOD: Yes, yes, but get everyone out of here
first... I need a nap. Don’t bother me for another millennium!
(THE
PSYCHO runs in with her bottle).
THE
PSYCHO: Nobody move! IT’S OVER! If I don’t get
pregnant right now, I’m blowing this bomb and taking us back to the Big Bang!
TEN! NINE!
EVERYONE:
NOOOOOOO!!
THE
PSYCHO: THREE! TWO! ONE! BOOM!! Fooled you all,
haha! It was a joke: I don’t even like kids!
(She
pops the champagne. Foam flows. THE ANGEL pours glasses).
ANGEL:
Bubbles for everyone!
THE
DEVIL: (Appearing) I’ve got bubbles too! And
now, I’m taking the joker with me!
EVERYONE:
Yes, take her!
THE
PSYCHO: Nobody takes me anywhere; I’m going to
Hell because I feel like it!
FATHER
GOD: Fine then... everyone go rest. Not you,
Satan.
THE
DEVIL: Yeah, yeah, I know... Let’s go, Psycho...
(Father
God downs a double glass in one go. The dove falls asleep on his shoulder. The
Flutist plays... everyone chases him to shut him up. The Devil and the Psycho
dance a tango... Jonas and the Angel embrace).
CURTAIN.
