Mono sapiens
(Standup/Monologue)
By Gavarre Benjamin
© INDAUTOR
Cd. De México
© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA
Contact: bengavarre@gmail.com
gavarreunam@gmail.com
Mono sapiens
· HUGO: A middle-aged academic, humanities expert, and "deconstructed ally." Caught between his superior intellect and a prehistoric instinct he cannot control.
· SARA (Mentioned): His wife. A pragmatic woman who has replaced passion with Duolingo courses and true crime series.
· LISANDRO (Mentioned): The "Sycophantic" and passive-aggressive neighbor
· THE HUGONOTE: Hugo’s alter ego; his Stone Age version that takes over during high-stress moments.
Mono sapiens
(SCENE: A
mini stage. A modern, minimalist kitchen. White quartz. HUGO enters. He is
wearing a high-tech ergonomic nursing harness. In one hand, a kitchen sponge;
in the other, a motorcycle helmet. He stops, looking at the audience with a mix
of existential fatigue and academic pride).
I.
The Sapiens-Sapiens-Plus Specimen
HUGO: Look at me. Observe this
specimen. I am the culmination of millennia of evolution, the pinnacle of
Western civilization. I am the "Sapiens-Sapiens-Sapiens…
Plus" model. I no longer drag anyone by their hair; now I pull
the grocery cart with one hand while using the other to reply to office emails
about gender mainstreaming and intersectional transversality… Ugh... Quite a tongue twister, isn't it?
[SLAPSTICK:
The harness bottle slips and starts leaking organic formula onto his shoes.
Hugo tries to plug it with the sponge while maintaining his intellectual pose].
I do the
dishes, as you can see… And I don’t just wash them; I dry them. I sort them by
material! I know which fiber won't scratch the Teflon and which detergent has
the neutral pH to avoid hurting the sensitivity of the crystal. Sara is taking
a well-deserved nap because she handles the baby at night, and I… well, I
"breastfeed." Okay, it’s a medical-grade silicone prosthesis so the
baby can feel the warmth of my chest while drinking organic, hormone-free,
pesticide-free, grass-fed formula. I am at the peak of deconstruction. The man
who nurses, the "New Masculinity" that dares to cry over Buzz Lightyear’s tragedy. To infinity… and beyond, ha!
II. Rear Ends and Pool Cleaners
HUGO: But the lizard brain is a
traitor. It refuses to vanish because it knows it’s occasionally necessary: to
run, to fight, to pedal… you know? To wake up a husband who only sees his wife
as part of the kitchen decor, you don't need couples therapy. You just need her
to bend over to pick up a piece of paper and for you to watch her… from behind.
Boom! The angle of the pelvis, the
architecture of the hip... and the little reptilian activates in the basement
of the psyche. In a microsecond, the guy stops thinking about retirement
savings or gender equity, and all he wants is to hunt the bison, hit a home
run, and slide into home plate. And let’s be honest, it doesn't even have to be
your wife's rear… in these cases of reptilian disturbance, any rear will do.
Any. Ass.
Take
yesterday... the pool cleaner. A guy made of pure Greek geometry. A Michael
Angelo’s David in board shorts. I was there, with my book on The Semiotics of the Deep Gaze, trying not to objectify
anyone...
[ACTION:
Hugo mimes reading seriously, but his eyes violently snap down. His neck twists
unnaturally while his mouth keeps reciting academic fragments].
My mind
said: "Hugo, respect his human dignity." But my
internal reptile screamed: "Look at that lumbar
curvature! What a sturdy build for gathering fruits!" He became
my unexpected crush. And suddenly... Bam! The guy turns
around. Our eyes lock. He knows that I know that he knows. And what does my
reptile do? He waves like a total, pathetic Alpha Male.
(Hugo
raises his thumb with a rigid, manic smile): —"Hey... good angle of
attack with that brush, champ! Great... leaf-suctioning technique!"
Leaf-suctioning! For God's sake! He looks at me like I’m a shrubbery psychopath
and I run inside to hide behind my Nestlé Nespresso machine.
III. Clan Warfare (The Two-Inch Rule)
HUGO: My neighbor, a SYBARITE who does yoga and smells like sandalwood...
put a fence post two inches inside my property. Two inches! In the grand scale
of the universe, it’s nothing, but in my primitive brain, it’s like someone
pissed on sacred ground. I found myself at 3:00 AM with a tape measure and a
shovel, in my underwear, screaming: "THIS IS MY TERRITORY, YOU
LONELY CAT-LADY MAN!"
It was two
inches inside my cave, ladies and gentlemen. And that’s where the lizard
planned its silent revenge. What did I do? I parked my car exactly in front of
his driveway. There was no need. There were fifty yards of empty curb... but my
instinct forced me to deposit my "DISTINCTIVE MARK"
there. The inner monkey doesn't understand urbanity; it understands territory.
I knew
Lisandro was watching me. I could feel his hate vibrating behind the blinds.
But he is so "modern" that he didn’t have the balls to face me… He
went to complain to my wife! He skipped the chain of command! My dignity
collapsed. Sara came out, grabbed me by the ear in front of him, and scolded me
like I was six:
[ACTION:
Hugo pulls his own ear up, standing on his tiptoes, voice turning high-pitched
and submissive].
HUGO (as
Sara): —"Hugo, you idiot! Move the car right now and apologize to Mr.
Lisandro!"
And there I
was... moving the car with my head down, while Lisandro watched me with that
smug "Zen garden" smile.
IV. Sara and the Duolingo Ghost
HUGO: (Rubbing his butt)
It hurts! But the soul hurts more... We’ve lasted 17 years, Sara and I.
Seventeen years of calling each other "honey" and "sweetie"
like an insurance commercial. But the daily grind is a ninja that slits your
throat with dental floss. Sex wasn't fire anymore; it was... an administrative
procedure. Like renewing your driver's license: long lines, lots of paperwork,
and in the end, you get a cold piece of plastic that doesn't even look like
you.
And her? My
Sapiens-cubed woman. Sara. She let gravity win. She let herself go... straight
to the couch. She lost two teeth and didn't give a damn; she said it helped the
airflow for her French pronunciation on Duolingo. Pure optimism!
[ACTION:
Hugo imitates Sara on the couch, mouth agape, making a weird whistling sound
through the gap in her teeth].
HUGO (as
Sara): —"Voilà Monsieur Trudeau... La pomme est rouge"... (Whistle). Listen to that accent, Hugo! It’s the finesse...
HUGO: She knew how to say "The
apple is red" in eight languages, but she forgot how to say "I want
you" in English. I’d try to seduce her with my best "modern
Viking" face, and she’d look at me like a YouTube ad you can't skip. She
spent her time watching Spanish soap operas about marquises and dukes… And I,
meanwhile, was Googling how much a Harley cost... something that vibrated more
than our marriage.
V. The Hero of the Bread Roll (Parenthesis-Man)
HUGO: The reptilian Hugo wants to
save any female in distress... except poor Sara. One day, the "Mr.
Incredible" living in my adrenal glands saw a punk snatch a bag of bread
from an old lady. My moment! The call of destiny!
[ACTION:
Hugo tries to start running heroically but lets out a muffled scream and grabs
his backside. He limps exaggeratedly, like a wounded penguin].
HUGO: Agh! My sciatica was flaring
up! But my honor screamed "Bakery Justice!" I chased that punk like a
Spartan warrior... or well, like a duck with a slipped disc. I recovered the
two bread rolls and returned with that bag like I was bringing a boar’s head
back to the cave. On the outside, I was a demigod; on the inside, my sciatic
nerve was playing Beethoven’s Ninth with a high-voltage cable.
I arrived
with my legs crooked, chest puffed out, in total agony. You know what sciatic
pain is like: you don't walk, you move by inertia. My right leg refused to
acknowledge my authority; it was going rogue, rigid, at a 45-degree angle to
avoid the spark in my ass.
Sara didn't
see a hero... she saw a Parenthesis-Man who
was one sneeze away from total paralysis. I arrived triumphant, wounded, and
dripping with sweat. And there was Sara. Carrying two ten-pound bags of
oranges, her left arm longer than the right from the weight, looking at me
like: "You risked your life for two cents' worth of bread and left
me carrying twenty pounds of groceries? You're carrying the 5-gallon water jug
up the stairs when we get home, my dear 'Aquiles of the sidewalk'."
VI. The Road Warrior (Highway Sparta)
HUGO: Where the Sapiens monkey really
goes insane is on the road! There, my car isn't a sedan; it’s my armor! My
bunker! The other day, some jerk clipped my side mirror. What did the
"Sapiens Hugo" do? He died! Murdered by Mr. Hyde! I got out like a
demon: "You bastard! You’ve profaned my mobile territory! THIS IS
SPARTA!"
[ACTION:
Hugo tries a "300" style kick, but the cramp makes him scream:
"Ayyyy!"].
And the
worst part? My kids are in the back seat, screaming with their neck veins
popping: "Get him, Dad! Bust his head! Rip him to shreds!" I had to
calm down. One part of me says "peace and love," but my Pleistocene
brain says: I’m going to murder this son of a bitch. I’m
apologizing with one hand while trying to keep my kids from jumping out to
finish the job. My software says "hugs not bullets," but my hardware
is begging for a spear.
VII. Walmart and the Emotional Peanut
HUGO: In Walmart, three women rammed
me with their shopping carts. Bam! Right in the
ass. A pack of short, mean-spirited "grape-shaped" ladies. They were
herding me like a beast of burden! I went to the security guard:
—"Officer, these citizens are systematically assaulting my buttocks."
You know what the law did? —"Oh, sir, don't be a pussy! Move faster and
stop blocking the way." I stood there, with my mashed buttocks and my
dented armor!
Then at the
gas station, a lady cuts me off. I go to complain and she snaps: "Why are you talking to me? Who gave you permission?"
And before I could insult her, a guy appears... a two-meter-tall Hugonote threatening to break my face. My inner monkey
turned into an emotional peanut and I went back to
the car with my tail between my legs. I’m a lion... made of cardboard.
VII.1 Marking the Female (NatGeo Mode)
HUGO: To remove the "cardboard
lion" stigma, I have to bring out my most competitive Homo Seductor. In that moment, the "Good
Sapiens" manual is deleted and we enter NatGeo documentary mode: Male
combat in the Serengeti of a cocktail party.
There I
was... and another "reptile." A chubby little guy in a plaid linen
shirt... a fashion crime that should be a federal offense. We saw the same
woman. Intelligent, empowered, smelling like success. Our brains went click.
[ACTION:
Hugo moves left, arm rigid, putting a hand on an invisible shoulder].
HUGO: I approached from the left,
very "modern," very "protective." I put my hand on her
shoulder. My software said: "I'm here to listen," but my hardware
screamed: "PRIVATE PROPERTY! I'll piss on anyone who gets close!"
[ACTION:
Hugo jumps right, mimicking the rival, hand reaching for an invisible waist].
HUGO: But the other guy wasn't far
behind! He moved in from the right with the agility of a plump lizard and put
his hand on her waist. A textbook territorial marking! There we were, frozen.
Me with the hand on the shoulder, him with the hand on the hip... two office
primates claiming virgin territory. We looked like a failed art installation
titled: "Two Idiots and a Lady." And what did she do?
She looked at us with a disdain that would have extinguished the dinosaurs. She
shrugged us off with one elegant move and went to order a mezcal. We stood
there, scratching the void.
VIII. The "Edna Mode" Incident
HUGO: The other day at work, teaching
a lesson on Nicomachean Ethics, she walks in: a tiny professor,
Edna Mode style. She walked in and told me I was being too loud... right in
front of my students!
The
internal Hugonote took the controls. I went to the classroom next door, kicked
the door open, and roared: —"You don't tell me to shut up, you...
non-entity! I control my territory!"
Total
silence. The students looked at me like I was growing a crocodile tail. Five
minutes later, an email from HR: "Apologize or you’re fired." I went
and gave the most fake, cynical apology ever: —"I regret my 'forms',
colleague... (under my breath) but this is war...". She
accepted with a victory smirk and I left, followed by the deafening stares of
her students.
IX. The Three-Woman Transfer (The Swinger Party)
HUGO: Later, my relationship with
women took a dramatic turn. There I was! Hair dyed midnight blue, at a swinger
party. With three women. THREE! (Holds up three fingers).
Trying to remember how "the delicious" worked, multiplied by three.
And the husbands... they looked at me with pity and relief. They were in a
corner passionately discussing whether lasagna should have extra pepper and
butter or not.
[ACTION:
Hugo mimes leaning against a bar, but his sciatica twinges. He freezes with one
hand on his lower back and the other holding an invisible glass].
It wasn't a
"swap," it was an emotional debt transfer.
Those husbands looked at me like I was the garbage truck coming to pick up the
radioactive waste of their marriages. The real Alpha isn't the guy with three
women; it’s the guy who gets some other idiot to
deal with them so he can talk about veggie lasagna in peace! My manhood didn't
shrink out of fear... it shrank because they insisted on sinning
and I was so terrified of my performance that it just... went into hiding. Now
I know what it feels like to be harassed!
X. The Primal Finale
HUGO: The world was and will be a
piece of trash, I know. My life is a soap opera where I’m the victim. But
enough! I’m bringing out my true self. My inner monkey! Motorcycles and parties
don't work. I want tattoos, drums, and a bonfire!
[Red light
floods the stage. A deep tribal drum begins].
No more
Duolingo! No more dishes! No more nursing babies! Let her do it! I’m releasing
the Tectonic Alpha Male! (He rips off the harness and
throws it into the dishwasher). I’m shaving my head! I’m painting my
face blood red! I’m marking my ass with fire-colored stripes! Marks that say: THIS IS MY CLAN! And any Lisandro that comes near my
fence will feel my claws in his throat! I am a tiger! I am a panther!
[Hugo beats
his chest. Mimes putting metal through his nipples].
No more
polite talk! Only the rhythm of the drum! To roar! TO ROAR!
[Hugo
enters a trance. Jumping, spinning, emitting guttural screams. He is a naked
monkey in a quartz kitchen].
This is my
moment! I was just born, damn it! To roar! To mark my territory! THE ANIMAL HAS ARRIVED!!!
(Final
roar. The red light intensifies. The drum stops abruptly. TOTAL DARKNESS).
