(Or the Via Crucis of the Triglyceride)
By GAVARRE BENJAMIN
© INDAUTOR
Cd. De México
© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA
Contact: bengavarre@gmail.com
gavarreunam@gmail.com
Welcome to the purgatory of the Mexican Social
Security system. In this clinic of flickering neon, bureaucratic stamps, and
fake diplomas, Wilson Wilson waits. He waits for his blood results, his turn,
or perhaps just for death. His triglycerides are pure mayonnaise, and his mind
is a map of sonambulistic prophecies. What you are about to see is the delirium
of a man trapped between the reality of a window that never opens and the
fantasy of a goodbye that never arrives. Is it real or is it madness? Most likely,
it’s all the fault of his fragile consciousness.
CHARACTERS:
- W (WILSON): 66 years old. A "Quixote" of public
health. Poetic, lucid, and hallucinatory in his lipid levels.
- MACARENA (M): A woman suffering from "Pathological
Leisure." Her life is a symptom.
- GERARDO (G): The "Stud of Social Security." A
body designed by the gods and a mind designed by a brick manufacturer.
- DR. GESSEL: Diagnoses based on planetary alignment and
celebrity gossip.
- DR. BAYER: A skeptic who believes patients are just
obstacles to his career as a shuffle dancer.
- NURSE T: A professional of indifference who prescribes
"patience" because the ibuprofen ran out in ’94.
SCENE 1: The Metaphysics of the Rubber Stamp
(A
hospital counter. W stands before NURSE T. There is an invisible line, but W
looks at the audience).
W: (To the audience) You see? You’re all here waiting for an answer. Some
for a diagnosis, others for a miracle, and most... for a clean bathroom. (To
the nurse) Nurse T, here is my original birth certificate, my cholesterol’s
death certificate, and a sample of my faith. Can I go in now?
NURSE
T: (Filing her nails) Mr. Wilson, your paperwork
is perfect, but you’re missing the "validation of existence."
W: My what?
NURSE
T: You have to go to Window 4 to have them stamp
that you are indeed you. But Window 4 only opens on leap years that fall on a
Tuesday. For now, sit down and wait for your blood to stop being mayonnaise.
MACARENA: (Enters sneezing elegantly) This is unheard of! Three sneezes in a row!
It’s the end! Nurse, I demand a brain scan, an MRI, and an almond milk latte. I
stepped on the floor without socks!
GERARDO: (Enters admiring his reflection in the counter glass) Hey, don’t you
feel a void here? (Points to his chest) I think my pectoral major is having an
identity crisis. It’s not pumping with its usual pride.
W: (To Macarena) Ma'am, what you have is an allergy to reality. And you,
young man, what you need is for someone to tell you that your mirror is a liar.
Welcome to purgatory, where time doesn’t pass—it
coagulates.
SCENE 2: The Fluids Club
(Blood
draw area. Smell of rubbing alcohol. W, M, and G are seated).
NURSE
T: (Holding a needle that looks like a spear)
Alright, Stud first. Don’t close your eyes, Gerardo; the needle is smaller than
your IQ.
GERARDO: (Nearly fainting) It’s just... the sight of my own blood reminds me of
my mortality, boss. Boom! I feel like I'm deflating.
MACARENA: (To W) And what’s wrong with you, good man? You look... dense.
W: My triglycerides are so high that if a vampire bit me, the poor guy
would have a heart attack. I’m a time bomb that tastes like fried pork lard.
W: (Entering a trance, staring into the void) In my dream last night, you
two were the stars of a National Geographic
documentary. You were curing each other with kisses between the Egyptian cotton
sheets of the X-ray department. Gerardo, she is your virus and you are her
190-pound antibiotic. Nine times, ladies and gentlemen! Nine times the triumph
of the flesh over the waiting list!
SCENE 3: The Neon Transition (W's Dream)
(The
light turns pink and blue. Two assistants enter wearing masks of famous
doctors).
W: Hey! Those are my pants! My only earthly possession besides my blog of
poetry! Don’t leave me in this gown; my soul is escaping through the rear
exposure!
ASSISTANT: (With a synthesizer voice) In Wilson’s dream, nobody has clothes, only
files. Move it, Number 412!
GERARDO: (In superhero underwear, posing) Look at me! I am public health
personified! (To the audience) What are you looking at? Wouldn't you love to
have this BMI instead of those popcorn buckets?
MACARENA: (Appears in her festive teddy bear pajamas) My pajamas are my
barricade! If I’m going to be an inpatient, I’m doing it in 500-thread-count
cotton!
SCENE 4: The Conclave of Charlatans
(Above,
GESSEL and BAYER drink margaritas out of beakers).
DR.
GESSEL: Bayer, I’ve been analyzing Macarena’s case.
It’s not a sneeze; it’s a coded message. Have you noticed Macron’s wife always
wears long sleeves? It’s to hide her Foreign Legion tattoos. She’s an elite
commando, I’m telling you!
DR.
BAYER: (Doing a shuffle step) And what about the
British Royals! They say the King is actually a hologram projected from an
office in New Jersey. That’s why nobody touches him. It’s pure science, Gessel!
DR.
GESSEL: (Looks at W) Old man Wilson is watching us in
the dream. He says your medical degrees were "Buy One, Get One Free"
at a discount pharmacy.
DR.
BAYER: (Startled) Damn meddling old man! Give him a
cherry-flavored placebo to shut him up! The truth is too dangerous for anyone
with triglycerides over 5,000!
SCENE 5: The Night of Souls in Syrup
(W
wanders with his gown open, dragging an IV pole that drips confetti).
W: (To an empty bed) Mr. Jones! Don't worry about the surgery. The surgeon
said he watched a YouTube tutorial and your spleen is going to look brand new.
Hang in there! (To the audience) You see? Nobody suffers here if they know how
to lie to themselves well.
(He
approaches the MUTE man in the wheelchair).
W: (Handing over the Gerber jar with a light inside) Take this, my brother
in silence. I leave you my essence. It’s 66 years of waiting for the bus,
writing plays, and eating street food. It’s a heavy soul, but it glows in the
dark. If Bayer comes to collect the rent, show him this and tell him Wilson
already paid for everyone.
SCENE 6: The Tenth is the Charm
(W
enters M and G’s cubicle. Bolero music plays in the background).
W: Guys! Nine times! Now that’s institutional efficiency! You’ve done more
for the country’s birth rate in ten minutes than the government has in six
years!
MACARENA: (Stepping out from the curtain, radiant) Wilson! My sneeze turned into
a sigh of pleasure! Gerardo has a resuscitation technique that should be
mandatory for public service!
GERARDO: (Laughing) Boom! Wilson, I feel like a
gladiator of the pharmacopoeia. Bring on those triglycerides; I’ll burn them
away with kisses!
W: (Sticks a toy syringe into his chest) Cheers, you two! May your love be
like diabetes: sweet but incurable! I’m heading to 2034; I’ll see you there
with the lasagna served!
SCENE 7: The Awakening of Bureaucracy
(Harsh
white light. Sound of a metal door).
NURSE
T: (Shaking W) Enough, Mr. Wilson! Wake up;
you’re snoring in verse and scaring the other patients. Take your slip, you’re
Number 412. Go to Room B to be ignored for another couple of hours.
W: (Dazed) What about Bayer’s shuffle? And Melania?
MACARENA: (Waking up, sneezing angrily) Achoo! Ugh, this
hospital is disgusting! You, you lecherous old man, stop looking at me like you
know me in my pajamas! Have some respect for my hypochondriac lineage!
GERARDO: (Checking his muscles on his phone) Hey Wilson, I think you were
talking in your sleep about "nine times." What’s that about? I’m a
gentleman... though if you want, I’ll give you my Instagram so you can see my
leg-day routine.
SCENE 8: Epilogue (To the Fourth Wall)
(W
walks toward the proscenium. He sits on the edge of the stage).
W: (To the audience) Still here? You’ve got a lot of patience... I can
tell you’re users of the healthcare system.
W: Hospitals are like theater: a lot of waiting, ridiculous costumes, and
in the end, nobody really knows what the play was about. But look on the bright
side... at least here, Death asks for an official ID before taking you. And if
you don’t have it, she gives you a six-month extension.
W: (Stands up) I’m going. My blood is calling for lasagna and my pancreas
is calling for forgiveness. If anyone sees Dr. Bayer, tell him his secret is
safe with me... and that Macron says hi to the Legion. (Shouting toward the
wings) Nurse T! Put it in my file: "Wilson went off to live, he’ll be back
when the eagle learns to look straight ahead!"
(W
exits doing a shuffle dance step as the curtain closes).
FIN.
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