PALIFORM INVASION.

 

PALIFORM INVASION

A script by Benjamin Gavarre

gavarreunam@gmail.com

PALIFORM INVASION © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

Paliform Invasion is a bizarre sci-fi comedy structured like a video game or a lucid dream that keeps resetting. The premise is simple and absurd: a race of two-dimensional aliens (the Paliforms) wants to conquer Earth, starting with a 600-square-foot apartment. Their fatal weakness? Spherical geometry. Anything round—curves, balls, volume—collapses their flat brains.

The play progresses through "Loops" or time loops. Every time the humans lose or the system gets saturated with data, the scene resets from the exact same point. However, the apartment's defenders (a mother armed with yarn and sports balls, and her hacker son) retain their memories of each reset, shifting their strategy until they corner the invaders. Between these resets occur the "Impossible Loops" (Glitches), moments where time freezes and the characters break the rules of their own reality to drop some truth bombs. It is a play about volume, geometry, and how an apple pie can save the world.

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PALIFORM INVASION

A script by Benjamin Gavarre

CHARACTERS

PATRICK NERD / Agent Airplane Mode: 20s. Seems entirely disconnected wearing giant headphones, but he is the only one who remembers the loops.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY: 50s, cheerful, does extreme pilates, queen of arts and crafts. With each loop, she is less smug and more tactical.

MRS. POINTY / Alien (Stick Mantis): The "friend" who cheers you on. Tall, skinny, clothes full of spikes, fixed smile, never blinks. Hates anything round.

KEVIN / Alien: Apathetic teenager with spiked hair that acts as an antenna. Walks in, makes faces of absolute disgust, and walks out.

KID LEADER / Alien: 8 years old, extraterrestrial mastermind. Bald, narrow eyes. Lives terrified inside the Control Cabin, which is full of balls.

ACT ZERO: THE CONTROL CABIN

(Set Design: A narrow room, illuminated solely by the green glow of several computer monitors stacked on a makeshift desk. It looks like a cross between a Cold War bunker and a gym locker. PATRICK NERD types frantically in front of the screens. MRS. SMUG-TURKEY is on the floor, using a foot pump to inflate a massive, neon-yellow yoga ball).

PATRICK NERD

(Without taking his eyes off the monitor)

Radar is showing anomalies, Mother. The Flat Nebula mothership has positioned itself over the neighborhood.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Pumping air rhythmically with her foot)

It’s about time. And to think your Aunt Shirley said my extreme pilates classes would never amount to anything. Ha! Who’s saving the world now, Shirley?

PATRICK NERD

The scanners confirm our suspicions. These aliens come from a strictly two-dimensional, orthogonal world. Their biology collapses in the presence of radial symmetry.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Stops the foot pump, wiping sweat from her forehead)

In English, Agent Airplane Mode.

PATRICK NERD

They can’t handle curves, Mother. Their cerebral geometry is so square that anything round triggers an existential short-circuit.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Affectionately stroking the giant yellow ball)

Look at them. So perfectly round. So flawless. And to think I got them on a buy-two-get-one-free deal at Target.

PATRICK NERD

We have a green light. They’ve cloned the identities of "The Old Lizard" and the apathetic teenager "Kevin." They’re about to knock on the front door to initiate the apartment takeover. Their plan is to kick you out with fake kindness.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Stands up and dusts off her knees)

Oh, they’ll get kindness alright. I’m going to give them a masterclass in psychological torture. Where did I leave my extra-chunky yarn?

PATRICK NERD

(Typing one last command)

On the coffee table. Near the hot glue gun.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

Perfect. I’m going to knit them a snowman. That’ll drive them completely insane before the final strike.

(She approaches the door leading to the living room and takes a deep breath, transforming her calculating face into that of a sweet, clueless lady).

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

And what will you be doing?

PATRICK NERD

(Lifts a gigantic pair of headphones and puts them around his neck)

I will activate the silent surveillance protocol. I’ll go to the sofa. To the naked eye, I’ll just be a kid absorbed in his laptop. Harmless. Completely disconnected.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

The famous "Airplane Mode."

PATRICK NERD

Exactly. Just remember, when they start sweating cold over the snowman sweater, deliver the killing blow. If they run fleeing in here... we’ll be waiting for them.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Smiles sideways)

Let the invasion begin.

(Mrs. Smug-Turkey opens the door and steps into the living room, adopting her cheerful posture. Patrick Nerd grabs his laptop, slips the headphones over his ears, and follows slowly. The dark room falls silent, filled with giant balls glowing faintly in the monitors' light. Blackout).

LOOP 1: THE USURPATION (The awkward mystery)

(Lights up. The apartment living room. MRS. SMUG-TURKEY is sitting on an armchair, peacefully knitting. Across from her is MRS. POINTY. She is sitting with unnatural rigidity. She sports a huge, macabre smile. She doesn’t blink. Ever. She pretends to knit, but her hands are just slicing through the air).

MRS. POINTY

(Monotone voice, barely moving her lips)

And that is why I say assimilation... I mean, the neighborhood association, is vital.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Without looking at her, focused on her yarn)

Of course, honey. Although sometimes the lady in apartment 4 makes an awful lot of noise.

MRS. POINTY

The noise will cease soon. Everything will be a beautiful, flat silence.

(She surreptitiously pulls out a measuring tape and starts measuring the distance between the sofa and the wall, stretching out like a stick insect).

MRS. POINTY

Friend... you look exhausted. This apartment is draining your vital energy. You should leave. Go to the store. Walk twenty blocks. I’ll guard your residential perimeter, no problem.

(PATRICK NERD is on the sofa in the background. Giant headphones. Laptop on his knees. Seems to ignore the universe. The front door heavily swings open. Enter KEVIN. His hair is spiked sharp with gel. He walks dragging his feet. He stops dead upon seeing Patrick Nerd. Kevin scrunches his nose in profound disgust. He makes an exaggerated face, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes. Patrick Nerd doesn’t react. Kevin snorts, opens the door to the adjacent Cabin, and exits).

(Five seconds of absolute, tense silence pass. Only the click-clack of Mrs. Smug-Turkey’s knitting needles is heard. The Cabin door opens. Kevin peeks out again. He makes ANOTHER face, this time puffing out his cheeks and narrowing his eyes, judging everyone).

KEVIN

(Muttering to himself)

Ugh, what a drag of a planet. What a drag of people with volume.

(He leaves again, slamming the door).

MRS. POINTY

Terrestrial teenagers are so... dense. Listen to me, friend. Go out and get some fresh air.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Hesitating, lowering her needles)

Well... my back is aching a little. Are you sure you don’t mind?

MRS. POINTY

Not at all. Trust me.

(Mrs. Smug-Turkey grabs her purse and exits through the front door. The millisecond the door clicks shut, Mrs. Pointy’s smile vanishes. Her face becomes an empty mask. She jumps to her feet, walking with the jerky, rigid movements of a praying mantis, and opens the Cabin door).

(The Cabin is dark. Only the "boing... boing" of a slowly bouncing ball is heard. In the shadows, the silhouette of the KID LEADER is outlined).

MRS. POINTY

The nest is ours.

(Total blackout. An electric hum. The red monitor changes: FAILED - WE GOT TRICKED INTO LEAVING).

LOOP 2: AIRPLANE MODE (The hacker comedy)

(The monitor changes: TIME TO TAKEOVER: 10 MIN / 25% DATA RECOVERED. Lights up. Everything is EXACTLY the same as the start of Loop 1. Pointy does not blink).

MRS. POINTY

Friend... you look exhausted. This apartment is draining your vital energy. You should leave...

PATRICK NERD

(Takes off one headphone. Doesn’t even look up from his laptop)

Exhausted from what? She did extreme pilates this morning.

(Mrs. Pointy freezes. Her neck crunches as she slowly turns toward Patrick Nerd).

MRS. POINTY

What is the meaning of this audio interruption? Weren’t you in Airplane Mode?

PATRICK NERD

(Turns the laptop to show her the screen, filled with green code)

My Airplane Mode records, Pointy. And it decodes. You said "purge the perimeter" exactly two dreams ago.

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Dropping her needles abruptly)

Purge the perimeter? Hey, now that I notice, why on earth are you measuring my curtains with that tape?

MRS. POINTY

(Sweating cold, stuttering)

For a rug! A very... pointy rug! And flat! I swear on the spikes of hell if I’m lying!

(Enter Kevin, dragging his feet. He’s about to make his first disgusted face, but Patrick Nerd points a finger at him).

PATRICK NERD

And you. I already know your hair isn't just drugstore gel. Those are interstellar reception filaments. Every time you make your misunderstood-teenager faces, you’re transmitting data.

KEVIN

(Eyes wide as saucers, covers his spiky bangs with both hands, terrified)

Ah, whatever! I mean, what a drag! I mean... abort mission!

MRS. POINTY

(Hissing like a reptile)

Linear sacrilege! To the control room!

(Mrs. Pointy grabs Kevin by the collar of his shirt and drags him toward the Cabin. They enter and turn on the light).

(Now we SEE the illuminated Cabin. It’s absurd. It is PACKED with neon-colored giant yoga balls. There is barely room to breathe. In the center, standing on top of a purple ball, is the KID LEADER. He is completely bald, with narrow eyes, wearing a miniature military trench coat).

KID LEADER

(Childish voice but filled with psychopathic fury)

You useless incense sticks! If I had developed my adult spikes, I would have impaled you by now! If we lose this base, I’ll throw you in the food processor and turn you into cream and strawberry yogurt!

KEVIN

(Glued to the wall to avoid touching the balls)

Hey, boss... if we hate round things and volume grosses us out... why did you fill the room with giant balls?

KID LEADER

(Hysterical, grabbing his bald head)

ASKING ABOUT THE BALLS IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN!

(Total blackout. Electric hum. The monitor changes: WEAK POINT: THE SPHERE).

LOOP 2.2 (IMPOSSIBLE LOOP): THE TEENAGE GLITCH

(The monitor flashes in strobe yellow: ERROR 404 - ANGST LEAK - LOOP 2.2). (The action freezes. Mrs. Smug-Turkey and Mrs. Pointy remain paralyzed like statues. The lighting shifts to a neon blue. KEVIN and PATRICK NERD are the only ones who can move. Kevin drops his shoulders, exhausted).

KEVIN

(Walking toward Patrick Nerd, no longer dragging his feet)

Can we talk two-dimensional man to three-dimensional nerd for a second? I am sick to death of your "Airplane Mode."

PATRICK NERD

(Takes off his headphones, genuinely offended)

Oh, sorry if my survival strategy interrupts your anime fashion show.

KEVIN

It’s not fashion! Do you have any idea how much quantum hairspray I need to maintain these spikes on a planet with spherical gravity? My scalp is screaming! Besides, you just sit there, feeling superior, while I have to walk in, make a gross-out face, walk out, walk back in... I’m a villain, not a cheap sitcom extra!

PATRICK NERD

You’re an extra because your emotional depth is literally one millimeter thick. You’re flat, Kevin. Own it.

KEVIN

And you’re a spherical voyeur! At least I try to have some style. You hide behind a screen because you’re terrified my boss with the big eyes is going to eat you alive.

PATRICK NERD

(Stands up, face-to-face with Kevin)

I’d eat your boss for breakfast with a side of Greek yogurt, popsicle stick.

(A high-pitched beep cuts the scene. The lights return to normal).

KEVIN

(Instantly snaps back to his slouched posture)

Ugh... what a drag of an invasion...

(He exits the scene).

LOOP 3: THE SWEATER OF TERROR (Psychological torture)

(Monitor: TIME TO TAKEOVER: 15 MIN / 60% DATA RECOVERED. Lights up. Mrs. Smug-Turkey is knitting while standing, walking in circles around Mrs. Pointy like a shark. Her knitting is fast, hypnotic, threatening. Mrs. Pointy is cowering in the armchair, trembling).

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

And you might be asking yourself, my dear one-dimensional friend... what am I knitting for you? It’s a gift. A little sweater. For a snowman.

MRS. POINTY

(Swallowing hard, her eyes about to pop out)

F-frozen water? Without vertices?

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(With a sweet, sadistic voice)

Exactly. Look, to make it, first you imagine a huge ball. Giant. Nice and plump. So round and curvy at the bottom that it has no beginning and no end...

MRS. POINTY

(Clutching her chest)

Gah! Conceptual friction!

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

And then, on top, you place ANOTHER ball. Perfectly spherical. You have to hug it with the yarn. Oh! And the buttons are little and round. And on top, a little ball for the head with coal eyes... also round. Everything is round, Pointy. Even the hugs!

MRS. POINTY

(Throwing herself to the floor, writhing in pain)

Stop! My two-dimensional prefrontal cortex is collapsing! Incomprehensible curves!

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

In my family, we have a saying: "Well, butter my biscuit and call me handsome!" but anyway, that's just family talk... The point is that soft shapes are beautiful. In fact, today I’m going to bake an apple and Greek yogurt pie... in a completely, absolutely, and obscenely CIRCULAR baking pan.

MRS. POINTY

(Howling toward the door)

KEVIN! MAKE FACES! MAKE FACES RIGHT NOW OR WE’RE GOING TO DIE!

(Kevin runs in. Total panic. He stands in front of Mrs. Smug-Turkey and starts performing a sequence of rapid, irrational faces, like a ninja doing hand seals but only with his face: cross-eyed, tongue out, puffed cheeks, blowing raspberries, extreme blinking).

PATRICK NERD

(Stands up from the sofa, snaps the laptop shut)

Sweater Protocol completed.

(Total blackout. Hum. Monitor: EFFECTIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL WEAPON).

LOOP 3.1 (IMPOSSIBLE LOOP): THE STARING CONTEST

(The monitor crackles: SYSTEM GLITCH - OCULAR TENSION - LOOP 3.1). (Mrs. Smug-Turkey magically disappears from the scene. MRS. POINTY is left alone, sitting in the armchair, with her stiff smile and unblinking eyes. PATRICK NERD closes his laptop, gets up, and walks over until he is three inches from her face).

PATRICK NERD

Alright, Pointy. Man to mantis. The theater is over.

MRS. POINTY

(Without blinking, her smile widens grotesquely)

Theater is the life of the human, meat insect.

PATRICK NERD

No, seriously. Don’t your intergalactic corneas dry out? You haven’t blinked in three loops. You’re going to catch an infection.

MRS. POINTY

(Sensual and disturbing voice)

If I blink, I lose my anchor on the Y-axis. I’d disappear into the X-plane. Besides... I like looking at you, Airplane Mode. You’re so... bulky.

PATRICK NERD

(Takes a step back, disgusted and nervous)

Hey, back off, stalker mantis!

MRS. POINTY

I swear on the spikes of hell, if I don't suck that volume out of you someday! You humans think you’re so smart with your curves and your "geometry." But deep down, you all end up as a straight line: the heart monitor. Flat! Just like us!

PATRICK NERD

Oh, yeah? Well, your straight line is about to be flushed down a spiral toilet, Pointy.

MRS. POINTY

(Laughing like a boiling kettle)

Make me yours, Euclidean geometry!

(The lights suddenly go out).

LOOP 4: THE CABIN (The revelation)

(Monitor: TIME TO TAKEOVER: 10 MIN / 99% DATA RECOVERED. Lights. The living room is empty. The action happens inside the Cabin. Mrs. Pointy, Kevin, and the Kid Leader are cornered among the giant balls. Mrs. Pointy has a nervous eye twitch. Patrick Nerd’s voice comes through an old speaker on the ceiling).

PATRICK NERD (VOICEOVER)

Attention, Paliforms. I didn’t need to hack your shields with code. It was much simpler. I spammed your mothership.

MRS. POINTY

S-spam?

PATRICK NERD (VOICEOVER)

Millions of photos. Marbles. Soap bubbles. Full moons. Wide-open human eyes. Your ship’s computer calculated that Earth is 70% spherical and collapsed from orthogonal panic. Reinforcements have been canceled. You are alone in the apartment of curves.

KID LEADER

(Bursts into tears like a normal toddler, hugging a yellow ball)

I confess! I brought all these balls! I built this museum of terror to study the round enemy, and now I’m terrified of my own creation! Space Mommy, get me out of here!

KEVIN

(Looking at his trembling hands, his apathetic attitude completely broken)

Boss... I don’t want to be pointy anymore.

MRS. POINTY

Silence, rebel cadet!

KEVIN

No! I’m sick of it! Having corners is such a drag! I want to be volume! I want to be a ball! I want to boooounce!

(Blackout. Monitor: 100% DATA RECOVERED - PREPARE FINAL STRIKE).

LOOP 4.1 (IMPOSSIBLE LOOP): THE MISUNDERSTOOD GENIUS MONOLOGUE

(Monitor: MEMORY OVERFLOW - LOOP 4.1). (The entire living room is pitch black. A theatrical spotlight, a classic white top light, illuminates only the KID LEADER center stage. He wipes an alien tear and addresses the audience directly, with the eloquence of an elderly dictator and the voice of a whining child).

KID LEADER

Look at me! I am a marvel of Paliform genetic engineering. My IQ doesn't even fit on your pathetic periodic table. And yet... what does the High Command assign me? Conquering a middle-class apartment on Earth! An apartment!

(He paces back and forth, gesturing theatrically).

KID LEADER

And look at my troops! A cross-eyed mantis who doesn't blink, and a teenager who thinks he's a Shonen anime protagonist but has less character development than an ironing board. I am a leader, damn it! I need an army, not the Lonely Hearts Club!

(He kicks an invisible ball).

KID LEADER

And then there’s... that. The enemy. The Sphere. It disgusts me. It terrifies me. And yet... sometimes, in the solitude of hyperspace... I think about how soft yoga balls are. Gah! The abomination! The shame! I desire volume, but the line forbids it!

(He drops to his knees, throwing his arms to the heavens like a Greek tragedy).

KID LEADER

Mothership! By the sacred vertices! Why didn’t you make me round?!

(He covers his mouth, horrified by what he just said. He looks both ways, paranoid).

KID LEADER

Delete that file. Delete that file or I’ll turn you all into yogurt, do you hear me?!

(The spotlight cuts out instantly. The sound of a cassette tape rewinding is heard).

LOOP 5: THE ROUND PUNISHMENT (The resolution)

(Same scene in the Cabin, a millisecond later. The door is violently kicked open. The frame fills with light. Enter MRS. SMUG-TURKEY. She is wearing professional soccer cleats. She has black war paint stripes under her eyes, drawn with Sharpie. She drags an immense white net filled with black-and-white soccer balls. Beside her, PATRICK NERD cracks his knuckles).

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

Airplane Mode is over. Let’s play, stick-boys!

(Mrs. Smug-Turkey and Patrick Nerd kick the soccer balls into the cabin. It’s a rain of spheres. A strobe light kicks on, making everything look like slow motion. Yoga balls and soccer balls ricochet off every wall, the floor, the ceiling. It is total chaos).

MRS. POINTY

Nooo! Continuous geometry!

KID LEADER

Perfect symmetry!

KEVIN

(Trying to hug a soccer ball and failing miserably)

My 2D brain is collapsinggggg!

(As the balls strike them, a loud, high-pitched PSSSSHHHH sounds, like a punctured tire. Amidst the flashing lights, the three aliens deflate. Their bodies lose whatever little volume they had. They writhe in the air, shrinking until they drop to the floor).

(The strobe light stops. Normal lighting resumes. Patrick Nerd and Mrs. Smug-Turkey walk in, wading through a sea of balls. In the center of the room, where the invaders stood, all that remains are three dry little sticks, identical to incense sticks or crinkled paper cigar wrappers. A long, peaceful silence fills the room).

MRS. SMUG-TURKEY

(Bends down with difficulty, picks up a shriveled alien stick, and examines it)

Say, son... what exactly are we supposed to do with three dehydrated alien twigs?

PATRICK NERD

(Shrugs, pulls his headphones out of his pocket, and puts them back on)

Just save them to prop the door open when there's a draft. Mission accomplished, Mother. Garbage truck comes on Tuesdays.

(In the background, from the darkness of the living room, the slow, rhythmic puffing of the foot pump inflating another ball is heard again).

(The monitor overhead changes one last time to bright green letters: INVASION CANCELED - APARTMENT SECURED).

(Final blackout).