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domingo, octubre 18, 2026

THE VIKING'S NEW CLOTHES.

The Viking's New Clothes

A Tropical Farce in Four Tableaux with Music and Slapstick Percussion

by Benjamin Gavarre

Cast of Characters

Tadeo (19): A young villager from an unspecified Latin American tropical coast. Sharp, talkative, and afflicted with an almost scientific curiosity for anything unusual. He has never left his region or seen a foreigner; to him, anyone without straight black hair is either a meteorological phenomenon or a mythological creature worthy of study.
Olaf "The Misguided" (28): A six-foot-six Viking explorer, blond as a fresh ear of sweet corn, with braids even in his eyebrows. He left Norway to buy cod, took a wrong turn at an iceberg, and ended up shipwrecked in the tropics. Boastful, naive, theatrical, and thoroughly convinced that his anatomy is a World Heritage Site.
Don Cosme (50): The town tailor. A cunning merchant capable of selling shade to a bat. He sees in the gigantic foreigner a golden opportunity to pull off the deal of the century without spending a single inch of fabric.
Doña Remedios (60): The town gossip, an expert at crossing herself before the unknown and sighing in secret when no one is looking.
Chorus of Neighbors ("The Fan Ladies"): Town matrons who accompany Doña Remedios in the front row during the parade. They act as a small tropical Greek chorus: crossing themselves in unison, sighing on beat, and snapping their hand fans open to the rhythm of the drums.

Sound, Music, and Cultural Notes

Musical Contrast (Extradiegetic): Every time Olaf strikes a heroic pose, a grandiloquent brass chord and epic choir (in the style of Ride of the Valkyries) blasts out, cutting off abruptly with a record-scratch sound whenever a physical blunder occurs.
Tropical Atmosphere: Scene transitions and town entrances are accompanied by a cheerful marimba or a light mambo with güiro and maracas.
Slapstick Percussion: A drummer (or sound track) punctuates the physical comedy: a deep bass drum hit for Olaf's flexing muscles, a rimshot (ba-dum-tss) for verbal punchlines, a slide whistle when someone peeks or bends down, and a sad trombone ("wah-wah-wah") when the Viking gets a cramp or discovers the scam.
Setting & Language Note: The play takes place in a warm Latin American coastal village. Titles of respect like Don (Sir/Mr.) and Doña (Madam/Mrs.) are kept for local flavor, as well as the Spanish word huevos (which means "eggs," but is also classic slang for a man's anatomical "pair").

Introduction

On a remote tropical beach where nothing more exciting than a falling coconut ever happens, young Tadeo finds a creature washed ashore that defies all local logic: a pale-skinned, yellow-haired giant who claims to come from a kingdom where even sneezes freeze mid-air. With complete innocence, Tadeo examines the stranger with the pure fascination of a naturalist who has just discovered a braided manatee.

Between ridiculous anatomical demonstrations—in which the newcomer shows off every muscle as if it were a siege weapon—and delirious tales of a fantasy Scandinavia filled with six-legged moose and square hens, the Viking discovers his only weak spot: the infernal heat of the tropics. Enter Don Cosme, an unscrupulous tailor who offers to weave a "climatic armor" so exclusive that only warriors worthy of Valhalla can see it. No one in the village is prepared for the parade about to begin, nor to discover just how far the vanity of an overheated barbarian will go.

Tableau One: The Discovery on the Beach of Perplexed Crabs

A sunny beach with palm trees. A gentle sea breeze plays in the background mixed with a lazy marimba. On the ground, half-covered in seaweed and wearing a crooked horned helmet, lies OLAF snoring like a rusty saw. Each snore is accompanied by a low double-bass note and a high whistle on the exhale. He wears soaked bearskins. TADEO enters whistling cheerfully, carrying a long stick and a basket of seashells. Upon seeing the bundle, the music stops dead. TADEO freezes, eyes wide as saucers, and tiptoes closer accompanied by violin pizzicato notes.

TADEO: (Looking at the audience, amazed) By my grandpa's beard! The sea just spat out a giant ear of corn with hair! (He steps closer and pokes a boot with his stick; a hollow woodblock "knock-knock" sounds). Nope, it has paws. And plush boots. (He crouches to look at Olaf's face and lifts an eyelid with one finger; a comical spring "boing" sounds). Good heavens, he's raw! They forgot to bake this man before tossing him into the world! Just look at that hair—it's like a sunbeam hit him on the crown of the head and got tangled up.

TADEO gently tugs on a blond braid. A loud cymbal crash rings out. OLAF leaps to his feet, letting out an operatic war cry with epic echo that scares off the seagulls.

OLAF: (Striking a Wagnerian opera pose) By Odin's one good eye! Back, land-dwelling kraken, or you shall taste the fury of the North!

TADEO: (Jumping backward to a snare drum roll, fascinated by the oddity) It talks! And roars like thunder in a clay jug! Hey, Mr. Bleached-Out, what are you? A sea-foam spirit? A cloud with a mustache? Why is your skin the color of a fish's belly?

OLAF: (Offended, placing his hands on his hips with a metallic armor clank) Bleached-out?! Insolent dweller of the southern oven! I am Olaf, son of Bjorn, grandson of another Bjorn, and nephew-in-law to Erik the Man Who Never Returns Borrowed Tools! I am a Viking!

TADEO: (Measuring him up and down with his stick like an architect, with scientific curiosity) A Viking? I've never seen one of those. In my town we're all the color of good river clay and only come up to your shoulder. You look like you climbed onto your cousin's shoulders and threw a rug over both of you. Here, give us a spin.

OLAF: (Instantly flattered; a brief trumpet fanfare plays as he swaps his fury for the pose of a Greek statue) I see you recognize greatness when it shipwrecks upon your shore, little mortal. Behold the masterpiece of the fjords! Since you have clearly never laid eyes upon a Nordic warrior, I shall give you a guided tour of this human fortress. Observe this right arm! (He extends his arm solemnly; a drum roll plays).

TADEO: (Steps closer, inspects it like a strange piece of furniture, and holds his own skinny arm next to it to compare) It looks like a ceiba tree trunk, but with freckles. Next to it, mine looks like a cinnamon stick.

OLAF: It is not a trunk! It is "The Icebreaker." And watch what happens when I do this... (He flexes his bicep exaggeratedly; a deep bass drum "BOOM!" sounds as he slaps it twice). Boom! Did you see it jump? I call this bicep "Thursday's Hammer." With it, I can split an oak shield, squeeze three limes without using my hands, and open pickle jars that have been stuck since the last century.

TADEO: (Poking the bicep with a finger; a blacksmith's anvil "CLINK!" rings out) Whoa! It's as hard as a grinding stone! Does the other arm do the same trick, or is that one just for decoration to balance the weight?

OLAF: (Indignant) Never! In Viking anatomy there are no spare parts without a function! Behold the left bicep! (He strikes another ridiculous carnival bodybuilder pose; another bass drum hit). I call this one "Thor's Mother-in-Law," because if you see it up close, it makes you want to run for your life! And that's not all, curious youth: look at the forearm. Here I have the muscle for rowing forward (bongo hit), here the muscle for rowing backward when we get the wrong island (another bongo hit), and this tiny one right by the elbow is exclusively for waving from afar at the Valkyries. (He wiggles just his little fingers in a dainty, flirtatious wave while a musical triangle dings).

TADEO: (Circling around him, fascinated) You're like a walking county fair! And what about the legs? Because with those bearskin boots, it looks like you've got two sleeping dogs tied to your shins.

OLAF: (Proudly lifting his fur hem to reveal a massive calf) Admire the Imperial Calf! Forged by climbing vertical mountains while carrying a barrel of mead and my grandmother in her rocking chair. Watch how it dances on its own... (A cheerful military march begins to play; Olaf tries to flex his leg and chest muscles to the beat, but suddenly a broken-spring sound rings out, he lets out a high-pitched falsetto squeal, and grabs his thigh). Ow, ow, ow! The curse of Loki!

TADEO: (Startled) What happened? Did the hammer break?

OLAF: (Hopping on one foot with a comical expression of agony to the rhythm of a ridiculous tuba, leaning on Tadeo's shoulder and nearly driving him into the sand with his weight) Cramp! A Nordic cramp! It's the humidity of your land rusting my tendons! Pull the big toe of my boot, boy, before my calf climbs all the way up to my throat!

TADEO grabs the boot and pulls with all his might while a stretching-rope sound plays, until a loud cork "POP!" is heard and OLAF falls flat on his backside in the sand with a long sigh of relief.

Tableau Two: The Impossible Geography of the Kingdom of Bitter-Frost

The same beach, half an hour later. A languid, sultry tropical melody plays. OLAF sits in the shade of a palm tree, fanning himself with his horned helmet and sweating buckets. TADEO sits across from him on a rock, chin resting in his hands, listening in total awe.

TADEO: So, let me see if I got this straight, Don Olaf. Are you telling me that in your village, water doesn't fall from the sky as a liquid, but as white powder like grated coconut?

OLAF: (Drinking the water from a coconut in one gulp and shaking his head) Snow, boy, it's called snow! And in my homeland, the Kingdom of Bitter-Frost, it gets so cold in January that words freeze the instant they leave your mouth.

TADEO: (Eyes wide) You don't say! Do you walk around with notebooks, or how do you chat?

OLAF: Well, in winter you simply can't. You say "good morning" to your neighbor, and the "good morning" drops to the ground going clink! (a crystal chime sounds), turned into a solid ice cube. So we all carry a bucket. You pick up whatever people said to you, take it home, toss it into a frying pan with a dab of seal lard, and as it melts over the fire—bam!—the frying pan starts talking and you catch up on all the neighborhood gossip.

TADEO: (Laughing in amazement) Good grief! What practical people! Hey, and what do you eat over there if everything is frozen stiff?

OLAF: (Putting on a mystical voice while a magical harp glissando plays) Majestic creatures that your tropical eyes could never conceive! Over there graze the six-legged moose: four legs to walk on the snow, and two on top of their backs so if they flip over going down a hill, they can keep running upside down. And Viking hens are square, and they lay square eggs—Or as you call them in Spanish, square huevos!

TADEO: (Shaping a box in the air with his hands) Square huevos? Like dice?

OLAF: Precisely! Because we live on mountains so steep that if they were round, breakfast would roll all the way down into the sea and the whales would eat it. Besides, the sun over there is terribly lazy: it only comes out on Tuesdays and Thursdays from three to four in the afternoon, and the rest of the year we light our houses by rubbing two woolly cats together until they spark.

TADEO: (Sighing with pure fascination) I never imagined the outside world was so poorly built and so much fun at the same time! Wait till I tell my aunt that foreigners have straw hair, muscles with nicknames, and square huevos! (Note: playing on the double meaning of "huevos" as "eggs" and "balls").

OLAF: (Bristling with wounded dignity) Hold on, boy—the hens' ones are square! Though in the January frost, I confess that ours hide so deep inside they refuse to come out!

TADEO: (Watching him waddle in his heavy furs, holding back a laugh) No wonder you walk like you just lost something really important! (Comic drum rimshot). But hey... why is smoke coming out of your ears?

OLAF: (Desperate, trying to fan himself with his braids while a sizzling frying-pan sound plays) I am melting, Tadeo! My body was engineered to wrestle polar bears, not to fight this sun that hits like a hot skillet! If I don't take these furs off right now, in ten minutes I'll be reduced to a puddle of blond butter. Yet a Viking never walks around without his gala armor!

DON COSME enters with the rhythmic, elegant step of a tropical danzón, carrying a roll of measuring tapes around his neck and a pair of giant shears clicking to the beat, followed by DOÑA REMEDIOS, fanning herself nervously.

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (Stopping dead in her tracks and crossing herself three times to three woodblock hits) Blessed Virgin of Perpetual Help! Tadeo, step away from that creature! It's an undercooked giant that fell out of a cloud!

TADEO: Don't be scared, Doña Remedios! He's a Viking. He comes from where the chickens are square, and look: if you poke him right here on the arm, out jumps "Thor's Mother-in-Law," a terrifying, bad-tempered old battle-axe just like you... (Doña Remedios gasps indignantly and raises her fan to swat him; Tadeo pauses for one second and smiles with total innocence) ...just like you could imagine! (Drum rimshot).

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (Lowering her fan, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, yet taking a flirtatious little step toward Olaf) Hmph... you'd better watch your mouth, rascal. Now let's see... which arm did you say the mother-in-law jumps out of?

DON COSME: (Stepping between them and rubbing his hands together as he spots Olaf's gold rings and silver bracelet; a cash register "cha-ching!" sounds) Calm yourself, Doña Remedios, do not display your ignorance. What we have here is a distinguished overseas gentleman experiencing an obvious seasonal wardrobe malfunction. (He bows so low his forehead touches the sand). Don Cosme of the Fine Shears, Royal Tailor of this coast, at your service, O rubicund colossus.

OLAF: (Wiping the sweat from his brow with his beard) Tailor, if you possess anything that can relieve this heat without diminishing my imposing warrior presence, I shall give you this solid silver bracelet I won arm-wrestling a troll.

DON COSME: (His eyes gleaming with greed; mystical timpani roll) You have just stumbled upon the only artisan alive capable of weaving the legendary Imperial Suit of Wind-Thread!

Tableau Three: The Wind-Thread Armor

In the center of the town square, minutes later. A makeshift folding screen made of two hanging bedsheets covers OLAF from chest to mid-thigh. OLAF's head pokes out the top. A light pizzicato waltz plays as DON COSME makes theatrical gestures in the air with a giant threadless needle, snipping his shears at empty space. TADEO and DOÑA REMEDIOS watch from a bench.

TADEO: (Whispering) Hey, Don Cosme, I don't mean to meddle in your trade, but you don't have a single thread of cotton in your hands. You're sewing pure air.

DON COSME: (Loudly and solemnly, so Olaf hears every word) Silence, layman! This Boreal Breeze fabric is so fine, so magical, and so advanced that it possesses a unique property in military tailoring: it is completely invisible to cowards, lazybones, and anyone who has never headbutted a mammoth or a saber-toothed cat to the ground. Only true champions worthy of Valhalla can see its frost embroidery and feel its coolness!

OLAF: (Poking his head over the sheet, swallowing hard with an audible "gulp!") Only those worthy of Valhalla? (He looks down at the tailor's empty hands, squinting in panic at the thought of looking like a coward). Ah, of course! Yes, yes! I see it now! What a... transparent blue! And such discreet embroidery! It almost looks like there's nothing there at all—what a marvel of camouflage!

DON COSME: (Reaches behind the sheet with his measuring tape; an upward slide-whistle sounds and Olaf gives a little hop, letting out a high-pitched giggle) Hold still, great lord, I am adjusting the combat rear-guard!

OLAF: (Blushing and giggly) Forgive me, master tailor, it's just that the northern cold does not prepare a warrior for being measured quite so closely!

DON COSME: (Miming buckling an imaginary belt) Now strip off those smelly furs, great lord, hand them over along with the silver bracelet so I may "line" them, and step out to dazzle this humble village with your state-of-the-art armor!

Circus drum roll. DON COSME yanks the bedsheet away. A triumphant brass chord plays, followed by a comical spring sound. OLAF stands in the middle of the square wearing nothing but his horned helmet, his furry boots, and a pair of rustic yet very snug and flattering short Viking underpants, embroidered with a smiling happy seal face on the front and a colorful jumping little fish on the backside. He, however, struts with his chest puffed out like an invincible giant wearing platinum plate mail.

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (Covering her eyes with her fan, but spreading the slats wide with two fingers so she doesn't miss a thing) Good Lord a thousand times! The giant is in his skivvies! And how nicely packed the foreign merchandise is, may God forgive me!

DON COSME: (Glaring at her sternly) Careful, Doña Remedios! Are you confessing that you are unworthy of Valhalla and therefore cannot see the majestic polar-velvet cape?

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (Recovering immediately, fanning herself at top speed) I mean... what elegant garments and what a snug cut, the likes of which I have never seen! Just look at the drape of that imaginary—I mean, imperial train!

OLAF: (Striding proudly in front of Tadeo and striking a side profile) What do you think, young Tadeo? It is the freshest armor I have ever worn in my life! I can feel the sea breeze running right across my ribs. And the best part is that it shows off the heavy artillery. Look how the royal chest-plate stands out with this cut! (He makes his pecs dance twice to two bongo hits with an expression of absolute solemnity).

TADEO: (Holding back laughter while scratching his head) Well... as far as ventilation goes, it sure ventilates you, Don Olaf. And let me tell you, those tight little underpants with the happy seal match the horns on your helmet beautifully.

Tableau Four: The Grand Parade of the Imperial Underpants (Climax)

The town's main street, decorated with coconut fronds and colorful paper banners. Festive coastal charanga music plays. The whole neighborhood has gathered. In the front row stands DOÑA REMEDIOS alongside the CHORUS OF NEIGHBORS, all fanning themselves in perfect synchronization. In the background, DON COSME tries to tiptoe away to the rhythm of a sneaky double bass, carrying a bundle with the bearskins and silver. An out-of-tune conch shell horn blasts as TADEO enters, clearing the way.

TADEO: (Shouting like a carnival barker) Make way, neighbors! Clear the street, here comes the phenomenon of the North! The man with the square huevos who packs more muscles than a sack of fried tilapias! Put your hands together for Don Olaf and his super-expensive armor that nobody can see—boy, does it keep him cool!

A triumphant march mixed with mambo plays. OLAF marches in with a solemn military step. He wears his snug Viking underpants, furry boots, and horned helmet. With every step, he pauses dramatically on a cymbal crash to puff out his chest, flex an arm, or shoot a conquering wink at the ladies.

OLAF: (In a booming heroic voice) Fear not, little dwellers of the tropics! I know the glare of my Wind-Thread breastplate nearly blinds you! Observe how my polar-velvet cape billows in the breeze! (He executes a slow-motion dramatic spin, swirling his imaginary cape so that the jumping little fish embroidered on his backside is in full view of the audience, wiggling as he walks).

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (Peering over her spectacles, hypnotized, while the Chorus of Neighbors sighs "Aaaah!" in unison) Holy Mother, what French tailoring! What a drape! Neighbors, just look at that invisible embroidery right around his belly button... it looks like a river washboard carved out of solid stone. Oh, to be a bar of soap and take a little slide down that!

OLAF: (Stopping in front of the ladies, deeply flattered) I see the noble matrons of this village truly are worthy of Valhalla and possess the eyes of an eagle. Allow me to demonstrate how the combat chest-plate expands when I take a deep breath! (He inhales exaggeratedly and makes his chest and shoulders dance to a timpani roll; the ladies fan themselves so hard their hats nearly fly off). And right down here, just where the invisible chainmail skirt ends, you may admire "The Pillars of Asgard"—my two thighs capable of cracking macadamia nuts at a trot!

At that moment, DON COSME, who was trying to sneak away on tiptoe in the background, steps on a coconut (a slide-whistle slip and a loud crash of pots and pans ring out) and falls flat on his face in the middle of the street. Out of his bundle roll the bearskins, the silver bracelet, and a pair of rusty shears. The music stops dead.

TADEO: (Pointing at the tailor on the ground) Hold on a second! Look, Don Olaf! Don Cosme has your furs and your silver right there, and he didn't even buy a spool of thread at the haberdashery! (Tadeo looks Olaf up and down, scratches his ear, and bellows out the truth at the top of his lungs). Hey, enough with the fairy tales! What armor?! The Viking is standing there in his underpants!

Dead silence in the square. DON COSME grabs the bracelet and bolts like a bat out of hell accompanied by a frantic xylophone run. OLAF freezes with one arm half-flexed. He looks at Tadeo, then at the audience, and finally looks down at his own bare belly and his happy-seal underpants. A sad trombone plays ("wah-wah-waaah").

OLAF: (In a tiny, high-pitched squeak, completely breaking character) In... in underpants? Are you telling me I'm not wearing the imperial frost breastplate? That my knees are out in the open air?

TADEO: Your knees, your belly button, the happy seal, and even the jumping little fish embroidered on your caboose, Don Olaf! That crooked tailor sold you pure sea breeze!

OLAF: (Letting out a shriek of horror worthy of an opera soprano) By Thor's singed braids! I have been bamboozled! A Nordic warrior parading around in his underwear like a peeled codfish! (In a sudden fit of modesty, he yanks off his horned helmet and tries to cover his chest, the seal, and the little fish all at once, knocking his knees together and taking ridiculous little hops to the sound of a hysterical violin). Do not look upon me! Cover your eyes, mortals! Dishonor shall fall upon my ancestors! I am swimming back to Norway right now!

OLAF turns around, red as a boiled shrimp, ready tocrab-walk sideways toward the sea with both hands covering his backside. Suddenly, a military snare roll plays; DOÑA REMEDIOS and the CHORUS OF NEIGHBORS leap forward like panthers, close ranks, and plant themselves in front of him, snapping their fans open simultaneously with a sharp "CLACK!" like Spartan shields, blocking his escape.

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (With the voice of a battlefield general) Halt right there, blond colossus! Nobody moves a single eyelash off this beach!

OLAF: (Trying to cover his pecs with his beard braids) But madam, I am unprotected! I am a disgrace to my clan! Let me go hide under a fishing boat!

DOÑA REMEDIOS: Fishing boat, my foot! We don't care that you're not wearing fabric, man of God! Stay right here with us, great Viking, and let us enjoy your anatomy in peace—for forty years in this town we've seen nothing but short, pot-bellied, lazy husbands who are only good for snoring in a hammock!

CHORUS OF NEIGHBORS: (In unison, stepping forward and fanning themselves enthusiastically) That's right, make him stay! Long live the happy seal and let the little fish dance!

TADEO: (Nodding with scientific enthusiasm) That's the honest truth, Don Olaf! Around here, the guy with the biggest muscle is the apothecary, and only in the thumb he uses to mash pills. You are a wonder of nature! If you stay, you can set an example for all of us to get just as buff!

The music stops. OLAF freezes in his tracks. He blinks twice (two triangle dings: "ting, ting"). Slowly, he lowers the hands covering his body. His panicked expression gradually melts into a mischievous grin of absolute self-satisfaction. He places the horned helmet back on his head with immense dignity and puffs out his chest twice as far as before as the heroic fanfare blasts once more.

OLAF: (Clearing his throat with a deep announcer's voice) Well... I actually knew it all along! Of course an explorer of my caliber was not going to fall for the trick of a simple tailor. It was all a Nordic military strategy to test your resistance to physical perfection! (He looks at the ladies, who sigh in unison while fanning themselves furiously, and then looks at Tadeo). However, I see your village is in dire need of anatomical culture... so very well: stay with me, enjoy the view, and tomorrow morning we shall open my beach gym—free of charge for any lady who brings me fried fish and shrimp!

DOÑA REMEDIOS: (Clapping excitedly) Blessed be the shipwreck that brought him here! Now come on, show us again what that arm does when it squeezes limes!

OLAF: (Leaping onto a wooden barrel in the center of the square as if it were an Olympic pedestal) Ladies and gentlemen, by popular demand and completely free of bothersome fabrics: "Thursday's Hammer" and "Thor's Mother-in-Law" in non-stop performance!

TADEO: (Taking off his straw hat and passing it among the neighbors as a final mambo blasts at full volume) Two coins for a look from afar and five for a bicep squeeze, folks! Step right up to see the first foreigner in underpants in world history! Guaranteed not to bite, cheers up the ladies, and provides shade for three people!

Atop the barrel, OLAF strikes his most glorious, mischievous, and exaggerated pose, making all his muscles dance to the beat of the drums under a shower of flowers and sighs from Doña Remedios and the neighbors, while TADEO counts the coins in wonder as the curtain falls on a grand final cymbal crash.

THE END