LET THE FOOLS WORK!

 

 

LET THE FOOLS WORK!

by BENJAMIN GAVARRE

 bengavarre@gmail.com 

LET THE FOOLS WORK! © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

LET THE FOOLS WORK!

 

The Art of Detachment (Or how to audit existence)

We live trapped in a script we didn't write. We wake up at six in the morning, tighten our ties, cram ourselves into rigid shoes and set out onto Lake Shore Drive to fight for a spot in traffic, all for the sole purpose of paying the monthly installment for things we accumulate to prove we are successful. We were convinced productivity is a virtue and rest is a sin.

But what happens when the most upright employee, the most implacable auditor, and the monk of corporate normalcy decides to audit the terms and conditions of his own life?

Let the Fools Work! is not a work on apathy; it is an elegant farce about manic lucidity. Pipo hasn’t gone crazy; he has simply decided that if the outside world is ruled by audacity and sophistry, he has the sovereign right to declare an absolute Moral Embargo on his labor power, take off his shoes, and see what happens when he decides, finally, to let go of the reins and fly. His wife Harper and his brother-in-law Brooks represent the resistance of a system addicted to consumption and appearances, two forces that will collide head-on against the baffling, immovable peace of a man sitting on an empty sofa.

This is a minimalist comedy to remember that, sometimes, the most intelligent resistance does not consist in fighting the machine... but in sitting back to watch how it falls apart while waiting for the pizza to arrive.

— Benjamin Gavarre

CHARACTERS:

• PIPO (30s): Former Process Auditor. Brilliant, calculating, and with a peace of mind bordering on the mystical. Dressed in impeccable designer formal suit, but completely barefoot. His apparent insanity is, in reality, a master plan for personal purgation.
  
  
• HARPER: His wife. A woman trapped in the hamster wheel of consumerism from River North style, social appearances, and credit cards maxed out.
  
  
• BROOKS: Harper's younger brother. A high-end professional parasite. Uses the language of "holistic wellness" and "quantum decoupling" to justify absolute laziness and live at the expense of others.
  
  

SPACE:

The living room of a minimalist, elegant designer apartment in Chicago’s Gold Coast district. At the beginning, the aesthetic is impeccable: Nordic designer furniture, a pair of well-cared-for exotic plants, and large industrial windows. In the second part, the detachment is absolute: the space is left completely empty, revealing a clean architectural beauty, stripped and raw.

ACT ONE

SCENE 1: The Declaration of the Embargo

(Monday, 7:30 AM. Morning light enters beautifully through the window. PIPO is sitting in the center of a costly grey Danish modern sofa in perfect lotus posture. Dressed in impeccable black Italian cut suit, perfect tie, but BAREFOOT. Eyes closed, a smile of absolute satisfaction. No noise, just a museum atmosphere.)

(Enter HARPER, running, tapping heels forcefully, visibly stressed, putting on a designer earring and carrying a brand name purse.)

HARPER Pipo, for the love of God, move! The traffic on Lake Shore Drive is already a parking lot. Your boss called three times on the landline; says if you're not at the eight o'clock meeting with the annual audit report, he's going to write you up. Why haven't you put your shoes on?!

PIPO (Without opening eyes, with slow, musical voice) There are no shoes, Harper. I left them yesterday afternoon at the Grand 'L' station. An act of pedestrian charity. My soles no longer touch my floor.

HARPER You left your Italian calfskin Oxford shoes at the 'L' station?! Pipo, they cost us three monthly installments from the fall pre-sale! Are you crazy?! And your cell phone?! I was dialing you the entire way from the dressing room.

PIPO My cell phone... is experiencing a transition from solid state to organic ash. I forgot it in a bar in River North. Or better yet, it forgot me. I tore up all the pages of the script, Harper. I decided to trade the palace of self-exploitation for the alley of sacred laziness.

HARPER (Dropping the bag on the floor, horrified) The script? What in the world are you talking about?! Pipo, come down to earth. You’re thirty-eight years old, you're the most feared Process Auditor in the corporation, not some Wicker Park barista. We have the mortgage on this condo! The payments for the dermatology creams! The membership to the SoulCycle multi-level subscription!

PIPO (Opens eyes, filled with a cold, bright lucidity) I've spent ten years auditing the efficiency of that company. Ten years chasing accountants who were putting their vacation receipts as representation expenses. I was the monk of normalcy. I would go to work with the flu, wearing a mask, so as not to fail the Excel spreadsheet. And all for what? To pay for a SoulCycle membership you don't go to because you’re too stressed from the job you use to pay for SoulCycle. The social contract is broken. I declare a Permanent Moral Embargo. I am not returning to the office.

HARPER And how are we going to live?! Is the government going to maintain us?! They’re going to take the condo, Pipo! The bank is going to repossess us!

PIPO If you possess nothing, Harper, the bank has no jurisdiction over your existence. I've decided to apply the definitive audit: the absolute emptying.

(From the hallway emerges BROOKS, wearing a Japanese silk robe, disheveled, holding a cup of matcha tea.)

BROOKS Please... it’s impossible to connect with my morning abundance with these shouts of scarcity. Harper, tell your husband to bring his low vibration down three notches. Brother-in-law, you're ruining my slow waking, my financial chakra alignment.

PIPO (Smiles with an almost terrifying kindness) Ah, the ecosystem catalyst! Come, Brooks, take a seat in the void. Since I will no longer go out to sell my life hours to a cynical corporation, and given that both of you are lovers of high consumption and French brands, I have a proposal of existential redesign: radical detachment.

BROOKS Detachment? Sounds super Zen. I always tell my followers on social media that you have to let go of what doesn't serve you...

PIPO (Gets up slowly, barefoot, impeccable) Exactly. So we’re going to let go. You have three days to dispose of absolutely everything that decorates, uglifies, and clutters this space. Sell the sofa, the televisions, the designer lamps, your bags, your silk robes. Liquidate it all. If you want to continue enjoying this roof, the tribute from the sale will cover the expenses. If not... the door is very wide. Fly away!

SCENE 2: The Empire of the Void

(Two weeks have passed. The apartment has undergone a radical, aesthetic metamorphosis: it is completely empty. Not a single piece of furniture, rug, or painting remains. The white walls and the wood floor look impeccable, spacious, almost spectacular. There are only three white cushions in the center of the floor.)

(When the curtain opens, PIPO is sitting on his cushion in meditation posture. Wearing the same impeccable suit, barefoot. His face is the picture of spiritual peace. HARPER and BROOKS are sitting on the other two cushions. Wearing simple white cotton clothing, also barefoot. At first, they look exhausted but trying to maintain a facade of spiritual enlightenment.)

BROOKS (Breathing deeply, with eyes closed) I feel... I feel how the prana of the empty space cleanses my colon... Yes, definitely extreme minimalism expands the aura. Yesterday I posted on my feed: "Living without objects is to possess the universe." Got three thousand likes, brother-in-law.

HARPER (With weak voice, visibly malnourished and gaunt) Yes, my love... at first selling the big-screen TV and my bags gave us an incredible energy rush. We paid the building maintenance, we liquidated the cards... it's beautiful not owing anyone anything. The void is... purifying. (Pause. Grasps stomach which grumbles loudly.) But Pipo... we’ve spent four days eating solely organic kale, apples we bought with the last of the sale, and drinking filtered Voss water.

PIPO (Without opening eyes) Hunger is just a notification from the physical body, Harper. Ignore the alert. Enjoy the lightness. Don't you feel how you float?

HARPER (Losing patience) I'm not floating, Pipo, I'm fainting! There’s nothing else left to sell! The closet is empty. We cooked the last head of kale in the only nice Le Creuset pot we sold yesterday to the neighbor below for fifty dollars. It's no longer possible to live on air! I miss the taste of sodium! I miss processed carbohydrates!

BROOKS (Opening eyes, desperate) My buttocks are already numb from sitting on this imported Italian tile floor. Quantum decoupling is awesome for a weekend retreat in Millennium Park, Pipo, but this is already a spiritual concentration camp. I tried giving my "Holistic Walk" workshop in Wicker Park and I had a glucose crash after ten minutes from lack of sugar. The asphalt beat me.

HARPER (Standing up with difficulty, staggering) Pipo, your former boss came again this morning. He was crying in the hallway, I swear to you. Says the company is sinking in a $100 million fraud because nobody knows how to audit the processes like you do. He offered you triple your previous salary, bonuses in dollars, and a company driver. Pipo, please! Put on some shoes, go back to the office, and buy me a burger and fries. I’m begging you!

PIPO (Opens eyes, smiling with an overwhelming intellectual superiority) Return to the corporate Matrix? Return to wearing leather shoes that imprison my toes and ties that strangle my free thought? What an absolute lack of macroeconomic vision. I've already won the game, Harper. My moral embargo is permanent.

HARPER (Tense silence. Looks at Brooks. Then looks at Pipo with a mix of rage and absolute disappointment.) It’s over. This is as far as I go. I was educated for status and comfort, not to be a Buddhist nun in the Gold Coast. Excuse me, Pipo, but I'm leaving. I'm going to my mother's house. She does believe in capitalism and has the refrigerator full of real food.

BROOKS (Standing up with a jump, adjusting his cotton clothing) Yeah, honestly, I also ask for an apology, brother-in-law, but your vibration has mutated into dietary tyranny. I already sent a message to a follower of my podcast who lives in Lake Shore Drive; she has a huge penthouse and urgently needs her terrace feng shui aligned. I have a new victim... I mean, new integral healing project. See ya.

HARPER You left the house empty, Pipo. Keep your light from the laminated floor. Let’s go, Brooks!

(HARPER and BROOKS walk with dignity toward the door, barefoot, and exit the apartment slamming the door. The echo of the slam resonates powerfully on the empty walls. An absolute, peaceful, wonderful silence descends.)

SCENE 3: The Final Ruling

(PIPO remains alone in the center of the empty living room. He does not move for a few seconds. Enjoys the silence. Suddenly, his mystical posture breaks and he relaxes. He lets out a clean, deep, and triumphant laugh. Stretches deliciously on the floor.)

PIPO (To himself) Audit concluded successfully. Parasite sweep: one hundred percent effective.

(PIPO reaches into the hidden pocket of his designer jacket and takes out his unique, true, and most precious possession: a shiny, impeccable, latest-generation SmartPhone. Unlocks it with a devilish smile. Enters his banking application.)

PIPO (Reading the screen with delight) Let’s see... investments... fixed income... Ah, the beautiful poetry of ETFs and indexed investment funds! Guaranteed compound annual yield. Without debt, without cards, without payments for dermatology creams, without mooching brothers-in-law... and the condo is already completely paid off. The plan worked perfectly.

(Pipo makes a couple of taps on his phone screen. Opens a food delivery application. Types quickly.)

PIPO One family-size three-cheese Chicago Deep-Dish pizza... extra thick crust... and a two-liter of Original Coke. Cold, like my strategy. Send.

(Puts phone away. Lies completely on the wood floor, face up, arms open, barefoot feet pointing to the ceiling. With the phone in his hand, activates the apartment’s hidden speaker system. Immediately, the song "Volar" (Fly) begins playing at full volume, flooding the perfect acoustic space of the empty room.)

PIPO (Sings happily, floating in his own glory, while waiting for his pizza) "...y las riendas soltar, y sentir que tus suelas apenas están tocando el suelo... ¡Y volar!" (...and let the reins go, and feel that your soles are barely touching the ground... And fly!)

(Pipo smiles at the camera with absolute and millionaire peace as the music swells.)

FADE OUT / FINAL CURTAIN

LET THE FOOLS WORK! © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0