THE BONE ROOM
A "Macabre" Comedy by Benjamín Gavarre
THE BONE ROOM. © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International
Death is inevitable, but divine bureaucracy is truly eternal.
In The Bone Room, the afterlife loses all its solemn mysticism to
become the ultimate contemporary terror: an endless waiting room. This dark
comedy farce is the perfect piece to celebrate the Day of the Dead and
Halloween season. In this fast-paced ensemble sketch, a quirky group of
skeletons faces not the great beyond, but boredom, intolerance, and the
absolute worst curse of all: having to deal with other people.
Puedes simplemente sustituir los
tres párrafos largos del inicio de tus guiones por estos textos breves, y dejar
la lista de personajes tal y como ya la tenemos.
CHARACTERS:
- REGINALD
(The Vain One): Model attitude, leather jacket, and a
bodybuilder complex. Obsessed
with calcium.
- TAY
(The Teenager): Slouching, wearing a hoodie, cap, and
headphones. Unfazed
by everything.
- OLD
MAN HENDERSON (The Curmudgeon): Bitter,
territorial. Uses his cane as a defensive weapon.
- MR.
BONES (The Exhausted One): Literally falling apart. He loses pieces constantly.
- ELVIS
and BURT (The Big Guys): Two "big-boned" skeletons
prone to getting stuck in furniture.
- THE
CHATTERBOX: Inappropriate, hyperactive, maddening.
- SEBASTIAN
(The Handsome Youth): Modern, charismatic, old-school leading
man with great posture.
- CUPID
(The Hopeless Romantic): Flirty, dramatic, and an expert in
romantic anatomy.
- MR.
PANIC (The Hypochondriac): Extreme hypochondriac. Freaks out over
any phantom pain.
- THE
CLUELESS GUY: Disconnected from reality. Reads brochures upside down.
- RICHIE
RICH (The Celebrity): Giant sunglasses, silk scarf. Unbearably snobby.
- THE
CLERK: Stiff hairdo, glasses, and the absolute worst
DMV-bureaucrat attitude in the universe.
- PATIENT ON STRETCHER &
PARAMEDICS.
[SINGLE SCENE]
INT. "TRANSIT & DESTINATIONS" WAITING ROOM - ETERNITY
1. The afterlife bureaucracy
(Where we discover that eternity is an endless waiting room and we meet
the first skeletons stuck in boredom).
The room is a chaos of bones, murmurs, and bureaucratic apathy. In the
background, a large, worn-out sign reads: "TAKE A NUMBER (WAIT SEATED...
DO NOT KNOCK: WE ARE CLOSED)." Another sign warns: "DYING IS STRICTLY
PROHIBITED."
Several skeletons are hunched over their cell phones, totally oblivious
to their surroundings. In the center, REGINALD flexes his arms and poses in
profile, discreetly looking around to see if he's being admired.
REGINALD: (Whispering to himself while
"squeezing" his non-existent biceps). Oof... you don't get
this mega-calcium overnight, baby. What bearing, what bone density, what
structure. Death looks amazing on me. Look at this, look... check out this
sternum, pure symmetry.
Next to him, TAY is slouching so far down in his seat he looks like he's
going to slide onto the floor. He barely moves his fingers to text.
REGINALD: Hey, kid. A little respect for the spinal cord,
yeah? Sit like a normal person. Look at you, you look like a pile of rubble
after an earthquake. You're gonna sit your ass right off.
Tay doesn't even look at him; he just disconnects the bluetooth from his
headphones, letting a loud trap beat blast out.
TAY: (Monotone voice, without
looking). Chill, boomer. The bass loosens the vertebrae. (He puts his phone back on Airplane Mode... ignoring everyone and
everything, and slides down another inch. His pelvis is barely on the edge of
the seat).
2. The struggle for personal space
(Where we prove that ailments don't disappear with death, and getting or
keeping a chair is an extreme sport).
In the next row, OLD MAN HENDERSON has the seat to his left occupied by
three supermarket bags full of pill bottles, medicine boxes, bandages,
saltines... and his cane. MR. BONES approaches him, dragging his feet
agonizingly.
MR. BONES: (Trembling, asthmatic voice).
Excuse me, boss... Is this... taken? My soul is heavy... and I think my left
kneecap is coming loose.
OLD MAN HENDERSON: (Covering the seats with
outstretched arms). Yes! It is extremely taken. My brother-in-law is
coming. And the other one is for my rheumatism, which is about to die and join
me up here. Find another seat, leave me alone!
Mr. Bones sighs. As he tries to turn around, his entire left arm drops
to the floor with a dry sound (CLACK!). Mr. Bones stares at the arm with
resignation.
MR. BONES: Ah, just my luck. Can you hand that to me, boss?
If I bend over, my sternum pops out.
OLD MAN HENDERSON: (Using his cane to kick the arm
away). Shoo! Get out of here, you smelly old man. Go wash your sit
bones, you reek... Scram! And don't go leaving your junk in my personal zone!
Mr. Bones, resigned, leans on Henderson to balance himself. In a quick
movement, he snatches the spare femur that Henderson was using to prop up a
bag. Mr. Bones uses it as a makeshift crutch and drops heavily onto the free
seat.
OLD MAN HENDERSON: Hey! You old thief! Security! He took my bone!
Help! I'm a poor, defenseless senior citizen!
To the side, ELVIS and BURT are having a structural crisis trying to
share typical plastic waiting-room chairs joined by a metal bar.
ELVIS: (Squeezing in, pelvis wedged).
Oh, hell no! This chair is fat-shaming my skeleton! Hey, Burt, push my pelvis,
I think my femur got stuck and it's digging into my tailbone. Push with faith!
BURT: (Using Elvis's arms for
leverage, panting air). I told you we should've lined up in the
SINGLE FILE line! Please! Does no one have mercy for the XXXL bone structure?!
Alright, let's get out of this jam... Big guys unite... charge! On three! One,
two... three!
(Elvis's femur pops loose. Due to the force of the impact, Burt shoots
backward, bounces off the wall, and lands sitting squarely on REGINALD's legs,
ruining his pose).
REGINALD: (Outraged, trying to shove Burt
off). Watch it, you're wrinkling the outfit! You almost splintered
my ulna! Get off me, big guy!
3. The purgatory busybody
(Where that hyperactive and maddening character who always wants to tell
you their life story in waiting rooms makes their appearance).
THE CHATTERBOX appears out of nowhere, walking fast with a fiendish
amount of energy. He wedges himself into the micro-space left between Elvis and
Burt, squishing them even more.
THE CHATTERBOX: Wow, sure is tight in here, huh! But hey, you
can't lose that body heat, even in just our bones! How'd you guys die? Me, I
fell off a roof 'cause I was being nosy watching the neighbors fight. Silly
slip, really. The whole fight was over a ball and a broken window: classic. The
gossip was juicy, the pavement... not so much. Bam, splat... How about you? You
guys like Nesquik with extra calcium? Or not really. Oof, long faces today.
ELVIS: (Suffocating, ribs creaking).
Mister... you do know what personal space is, right?... Back off... Your armpit
smells, gross.
The Chatterbox shrugs, jumps up with comedic flair, and goes straight to
Tay, who is still on his astral journey. The Chatterbox gives Tay a friendly
slap on the back.
(Physical action: the slap makes Tay, who was on the edge of the chair,
slide off completely and end up on the floor in a messy pile of bones and
elastic bandages... He starts groaning comically, but they can't see him).
THE CHATTERBOX: (Oblivious to the disaster,
talking to anyone who will listen). You guys like memes? I call 'em
TikToks, haha... No way... hehe... I got a nephew who's still alive, can't put
his gadget down. Scrolling all day, all night... Did you know looking at your
phone too much makes you go blind! Well... You gotta have a little moderation,
like my mom used to say... 'Son, practice moderation...' Hahaha! Nobody has
moderation these days, right? Right, kid? ... Kid? Where'd he go?
Tay, from the floor, just sticks one super skinny arm and a long
skeletal hand out of the hoodie, throwing up a peace sign without getting up.
TAY: (Yelling because his music
volume is maxed out). I'M STRAIGHT!
4. Code Splinter
(Where a medical emergency interrupts the lethargy and ends in a comical
anatomical disaster of loose parts).
Suddenly, the double doors on the left burst open with a dramatic crash.
Two PARAMEDICS rush in pushing a stretcher with a PATIENT who is a literal
jigsaw puzzle of loose bones.
PARAMEDIC 1: Make way! Code Splinter! Watch the loose skull,
watch the jaw, it bites... He got feisty... Watch the jaw!
PARAMEDIC 2: Grab his tailbone, he's falling apart! Don't let
him break down... anymore!
Seeing the disaster roll by, panic and disgust take over the room.
Everyone covers their skulls or eye sockets with their bony hands.
REGINALD: (Covering his face).
Please, a little decorum! Such lack of manners and decency... How did I end up
in such a miserable place! I was always VIP... Oh, what a shame, what a
shame... A tragedy, a tragedy!
The Patient on the stretcher slowly turns his skull. His empty sockets
stare at the whole room in absolute terror. With a trembling hand barely held
together by phantom ligaments, he raises two phalanges. He begins making
frantic tracing motions in the air toward the others.
MR. PANIC: (Pointing at the stretcher).
Look! He's blessing us! He's a holy martyr!
THE CLUELESS GUY: I think he's flipping us off... Look, that is
clearly the middle finger raised, I recognize that finger, it's the middle
finger, you dirty rude old man.
The Patient continues making even more offensive gestures and everyone
raises their eyebrows as the stretcher trips over Old Man Henderson's cane.
(SLAPSTICK: The Patient flies horizontally off the stretcher, crosses
the stage, and lands perfectly seated on MR. PANIC's shoulders).
MR. PANIC: (Carrying the headless patient,
going into shock). Oh my God! My spine just duplicated! I feel dead
weight! It's a bone tumor! Doctor, I'm having a stroke!
The Patient (who is headless on Panic's shoulders) reaches a trembling
hand toward the floor, where his skull rolled like a bowling ball. The skull
stops at THE CLUELESS GUY's feet.
THE CLUELESS GUY: (Looks at the skull on the
floor, then looks inside it). Oh, look... what a curious skull...
but it doesn't have a jaw...
(The Clueless Guy searches the floor and finds a biting jaw. The jaw
bites his fingers).
THE CLUELESS GUY: Ow, dammit! Listen here, mister! You are a
Horrible person! Horrible!
The Paramedics run over, pick up the skull, and the biting jaw... They
pull the evil Patient off Mr. Panic's shoulders (who is left hyperventilating)
and drag him away through the emergency doors.
5. The idol of the masses
(Where a television star who demands special treatment makes his
triumphant grand entrance, clashing with the harsh reality of purgatory).
The main doors open again, this time with imaginary fanfare music (or
maximum drama). Enter RICHIE RICH, showing off his frame... posing with his
hands on his hips, giant sunglasses, and a silk scarf. He expects an ovation
that doesn't arrive.
RICHIE RICH: (Theatrical, projecting his
voice to no one). Easy, easy, my adoring public! I'm here. I have
arrived!... (Crickets chirp) I know the wait is hard and you want
an autograph, but let's form an orderly line. There's fame for everyone in
eternity. Flash photography is allowed. Don't push!
Absolute silence. The chirping bug becomes the sound of a spectral
cricket. The Clueless Guy stares at him, "squinting" his sockets.
THE CLUELESS GUY: Hey... Do I know you? You did the hemorrhoid cream
commercials. On the subway...
RICHIE RICH: (Pulling down his glasses,
furious). For the love of God! Hemorrhoids! I don't even know what
that is. I Am An Idol! I was the face of Cartier NUMERO SIX! (A
theatrical experience!) My death shocked the Planet, the Pope came to my
funeral... And... The Rolling Stones... And... Madonna...
(A "Ba-dum-tss" rimshot sounds every time Richie tells a
bigger exaggeration or lie...)
Furious at the lack of attention, he marches straight to the reception
door and bangs on it with his giant ring.
RICHIE RICH: Miss, excuse me. I am a high-impact organic public
figure. I cannot be out here mixed in with... the afterlife's economy class. I
demand my VIP pass, my lounge, and an almond milk latte. I was the villain
everyone loved to hate on "Days of Our Lives" and I died
heroically...
THE CLERK: (Without taking her eyes off
her papers, typing lazily with one finger). Your file says you
tripped over a lighting cable on set out of vanity, because you refused to wear
your prescription glasses. Fill out form 404, annex B for "Ridiculous
Deaths Due to Poor Vision" and get at the back of the line. The supervisor
will assist you as soon as he gets back from his lunch break.
RICHIE RICH: And when exactly is that nincompoop supposed to
come back?!
THE CLERK: He went out for street tacos. Shouldn't be long
now, they always run out of the good ones. Sit down and wait... Next.
Richie Rich huffs, dramatically tosses his scarf, and goes to sit in a
corner, muttering about how he's going to sue everyone with his legal team.
6. Cartilage-free romance
(Where Cupid and Sebastian discover that appearances are deceiving in
the world of bones, but love prevails over labels).
Meanwhile, in the seats on the right, SEBASTIAN and CUPID have been
chatting closely for a while. Cupid, with exaggerated shyness, but a lot of
emotion, strokes Sebastian's ulna.
CUPID: ...and then, seeing the perfect alignment of your
spine and your posture, I realized you are exactly my type of ribcage. You have
such... sexy shoulder blades, so sculpted... smooth to the touch... like you
were an Olympian god, like a work of Praxiteles.
SEBASTIAN: (Smiling, flattered, but
suddenly looks down and examines Cupid's hips). Alright, alright...
you're making me blush... Hey... your phalanges are a bit... and your fingers
are very... And your hands are kind of... I'm looking at your pelvis... what a
narrow and masculine pelvis you have... You have the skeleton of a man! You're
a guy with giant hands.
CUPID: (Jumping up, highly offended,
hands on hips). Not entirely! Well, yes... I was a landscaper... And
labels really aren't my thing... Man, woman, bones... What does it matter.
SEBASTIAN: But you were touching me this whole time and you
didn't say anything! Did you think I wouldn't notice!?
CUPID: (Making a theatrical,
exaggerated soap-opera gesture). Details, Sebastian! Don't act all
offended, you were more than happy when I adjusted your collarbone and you were
sighing!
Sebastian covers his face, embarrassed, while The Chatterbox, who was
listening to everything wedged between them, lets out a scandalous echoing
laugh.
THE CHATTERBOX: That's it! Round of applause! Death to labels!...
Long live free skeletal love!
7. Code Pandemic
(Where a mobile phone alert unleashes collective hypochondria, causing a
stampede worthy of the best comedy sketch).
OLD MAN HENDERSON: (Looks up from his old flip
phone, alarmed by an ancient notification sound). Listen up,
everyone! I just got a WhatsApp alert chain. It has red letters and scared
little skulls. It says there's a new virus on the loose.
ELVIS: A virus? Here? God forbid!
MR. PANIC: (Grabbing his skull in despair,
instantly panicking). They say it's a terrible strain! It's
airborne! All your teeth could fall out!
At that exact moment, the room's lights flicker violently and turn red.
An old factory alarm begins to howl loudly: "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!".
The reception window flies open. THE CLERK pokes her head out wearing a
face mask with little skulls on it.
THE CLERK: (Through a defective megaphone
with a forced, screechy voice). Attention all users! The report is
confirmed. Code Pandemic! A highly contagious virus is everywhere. Avoid All
contact... I repeat, stay home... avoid contact and wash your hands--- Imminent
danger of death! I repeat...
The megaphone suffers a fatal feedback squeal. Total panic hits everyone
at once. Imaginary symptoms cause everyone to cough, cover up, walk hunched
over... Chaos and panic spread.
REGINALD: (Grabbing the collar of his
jacket). Oh God of the bleached skeletons! My throat feels dry! My
white blood cells aren't working anymore! I want Tylenol, I'm going to the
pharmacy, I need IV fluids... I want electrolytes, ASAP!
BURT: (Coughing hard, blowing clouds
of white dust from his ribs). Elvis, I can't breathe! I think my
pelvis temperature is spiking! My femur is burning up!
ELVIS: (Fanning himself desperately
with an old magazine and pushing Burt with his foot). Keep your
social distance! Get away! I'm an at-risk demographic: I'm big-boned and my
triglycerides are through the roof!
RICHIE RICH: (Covering his entire skull with
his silk scarf like a ninja). I demand my VIP vaccine! I want my
private suite! I'm taking no calls, I repeat, all interviews canceled, adios
you morons.
TAY: (Still on the floor, lifts his
head slightly). Virus? Damn. Zoom classes again... so lame... For
real? (Drops his skull back to the floor).
MR. BONES: (Trembling so much his bones
rattle like maracas, drops the stolen femur). I don't want to die!
Help!
THE CLERK: (Spraying a giant can of
aerosol disinfectant directly into the faces of those nearby and all over the
window). Immediate evacuation of the premises is ordered! Run for
your lives! The last one out stays in perpetual quarantine cleaning the
purgatory bathrooms!
(FINAL STAMPEDE: Total chaos begins in fast motion. Old Man Henderson
throws all his bags at Richie Rich's face and runs with Olympic agility,
jumping over chairs. Reginald flees coughing with arms outstretched like a
dramatic zombie. Richie Rich uses The Chatterbox as a human shield, pushing the
big guys Elvis and Burt, who get stuck together in the main door, plugging the
exit like a cork).
ELVIS and BURT: (Screaming in unison, wedged in
the doorframe). One at a time! We're gonna break! DON'T PUSH!
(The Clerk runs from the back, gets a running start, and vaults over her
own reception counter, landing on top of the pile of skeletons at the door.
From the impact, the "cork" gives way and everyone shoots out into
the exterior hallway in a whirlwind of screams, clashing bones, and slamming
doors).
8. Eternity is long
(Where the dust settles in the empty room, and we discover that the only
thing that truly survives everything is a good coffee and great company).
The room empties in a matter of seconds. A thick cloud of bone dust
slowly settles on the stage. The red alarm continues flashing in silence.
In the midst of the destruction and overturned chairs, only SEBASTIAN
and CUPID remain, intact, frozen in the exact dramatic position of their
lover's quarrel.
They look toward the door where everyone just escaped trampling each
other. The distant echo of screams fading into eternity can be heard. Sebastian
slowly lowers his arms, looks at Cupid, and blinks in absolute incomprehension.
SEBASTIAN: Hey... wait a minute. But if we're already dead...
buried, waked, and with a death certificate... what the hell are we going to
die from? People are so ridiculous, honestly.
Cupid tilts his head, relaxes his offended posture, smiles showing all
his teeth, and gives Sebastian a flirtatious, tender little tap on the ribs
with his index finger.
CUPIDO: Oh, Sebastian... besides having divine bone
structure and being handsome, you're analytical... Every time... I like you
more.
Sebastian sighs with profound resignation, making all his ribs rattle
loudly in a comical sound, and shrugs.
SEBASTIAN: What does it matter anymore. Nobody's perfect,
right? Anyway, eternity is long... Let's go see if they sell cappuccinos or at
least some drip coffee in the cafeteria of hell. My treat.
CUPIDO: (Hooking his arm with
Sebastian's). Fine, but next time I pay... because from now on, you
are my other half.
Sebastian nods and smiles, completely smitten now. Both skeletons walk
together, arm in arm and completely calm, toward the exit opposite the
stampede, where a neon sign lights up that says: "COFFEE SHOP - Hot &
Ready to go...". The red emergency lights continue flashing rhythmically
over the totally empty and ruined waiting room.
[CURTAIN / FADE TO BLACK]
SUGGESTED NOTES FOR STAGING AND PRODUCTION
(For use by Directing, Cast, and Technical Crew)
1. VISUAL PROPOSAL AND WARDROBE (The "Bone Effect")
To avoid the use of complex theatrical makeup (which slows down dressing
room times and wears out the cast's skin during multi-performance runs), a
stylized and functional convention is suggested:
- The
Skeletal Base: The entire cast wears a uniform base of
black tights, leotards, or solid black turtlenecks. Over this black base,
the bones (ribs, collarbones, pelvis, and limbs) are applied. They can be
painted with white fluorescent fabric paint or made of white craft foam
(EVA foam) sewn to the fabric.
- The
Archetype Clothing: Over the black base, the actors wear
the characteristic clothing of their character (Reginald's leather jacket,
Tay's hoodie, etc.). These garments must be strategically torn, ripped, or
modified (open fronts or cropped sleeves) so that the "bone"
structure is visible.
- The
Face: Full makeup is discarded. The use of rigid
half-masks or skull masks made of plastic or thin latex is suggested.
These should only cover from the forehead to the nasal bridge and
cheekbones. The actor's real mouth and jaw remain uncovered to guarantee
perfect comedic gesticulation and voice projection.
- The
Hands: The use of black gloves with the finger bones
painted white on the back is mandatory.
2. SOLUTIONS FOR PHYSICAL COMEDY (Prop Effects)
- Mr.
Bones's Arm: The actor's jacket will have the left
sleeve attached to the shoulder using quick-release velcro. The actor will
keep their real arm hidden inside the garment. The sleeve will hang
stuffed with fabric and end in a prop hand. For the gag, they simply pull the velcro.
- The
Patient's Skull: The skull that bites The Clueless Guy
must be a rigid plastic prop. The actor will simulate the "bite"
by putting their fingers into the toy's jaw cavity and operating it with a
quick flick of the wrist.
3. LIGHTING AND ATMOSPHERE DESIGN
- Base
Light: A cold, flat, and slightly unpleasant general
lighting is suggested, emulating the fluorescent lamps of government
offices or public clinics.
- The
Blacklight (UV) Effect: Ultraviolet (blacklight) cannons are
recommended. In specific blackouts, the blacklight will make the actors'
black bodies disappear, causing the fluorescent bones to
"float".
- The
Code Pandemic: When the alarm is activated, the
general lighting should change drastically to a wash of solid or strobing
red light, rhythmic with the "BEEP, BEEP" siren sound.
