Good Lord! Is This Heaven? (A Theological-Absurd One-Act Farce) By Gavarre Benjamin

 

 

Good Lord! Is This Heaven?

(A Theological-Absurd One-Act Farce)

By Gavarre Benjamin

By Gavarre Benjamin

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© 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).

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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.

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