The Swordsmen An original one-act play by Ben Gavarre

 

The Swordsmen 

An original one-act play by Ben Gavarre

Characters:

Maravedí

Beltrán

Narrator

PROLOGUE

The Narrator enters, dressed as a character from Shakespearean theatre, but with modern fabrics, colours and accessories.

Narrator. — Ah, woe is me! Those who have charged me with recounting the tale of these two shall face my displeasure! For as you know, or perhaps you don't given their persistent… well, never mind. Suffice it to say, we have before us two figures of some renown with a blade: Zafir and… no, wait. Agenón? Blast it all. Their names once echoed throughout the realm, yet the true nature of their enduring feud remained a puzzle.

Behind a large screen covered with translucent fabric, we glimpse the silhouettes of the swordsmen, supposedly awaiting their cue. Occasionally, a head or arm might pop into view. We can often discern their general posture and hear their muttered exchanges.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — He's done it again, the twit! Zafir and Agenón? Honestly. Someone ought to have a word.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — I rather fancy the sound of Zafir and Agenón myself. Let's just leave it for tonight. We can set him straight next time.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Oi, Narrator! It’s Beltrán and Maravedí. Maravedí and Beltrán. Get it right, or there’ll be trouble!

Narrator. — My apologies, let me just check my notes. Ah yes, my mistake. As I was saying, Beltrán and Maravedí were two rather perplexing swordsmen. Their reputations preceded them in every corner of the land, yet the reason for their constant clashes remained… well, a topic of much speculation.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — He's at it again with the 'perplexing' nonsense! And he said it before, you know. Sounds a bit daft, doesn't it? Truth be told, our so-called rivalry isn't much of a mystery at all. We simply thrive on a bit of a challenge and a good scrap.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Aye, we do like a good fight.

At that moment, Beltrán and Maravedí step out from behind the screen and immediately engage in a spirited (and rather clumsy) fencing match, punctuated by colourful insults.

Beltrán. — You blithering idiot!

Maravedí. — You simpleton!

Beltrán. — You absolute buffoon!

Maravedí. — Oh, are we trading insults now? Well, you’re a complete and utter twit!

Beltrán. — Am I? Well, you’re a bigger twit, you stuck-up git!

Maravedí. — You laughing stock!

Beltrán. — No, you’re the laughing stock!

Pause.

Maravedí. — Remind me, why are we even cross with each other?

Beltrán. — Can’t say I recall. You started it.

Maravedí. — Fancy getting on with the play then?

Beltrán. — Suits me down to the ground.

Maravedí. — Right, let’s get on with it.

They retreat behind the screen, their mock battle continuing.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — See? Much easier when we’re not slinging insults.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Still an idiot, though.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — You called me an idiot! Well, you're the idiot! Honestly. This deserves a proper duel.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Is that so, you daft sod?

Loud clashes and metallic sounds emanate from behind the screen, accompanied by the occasional strange thud.

Narrator. — Our heroes, er, Beltrán and Maravedí, were locked in perpetual conflict. Duels were their constant pastime. Day in, day out.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — We've told you, it's Beltrán and Maravedí! Honestly, this bloke’s a bit thick, isn’t he?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Just leave him to it. He's a hopeless narrator and he'll come a cropper eventually for his blunders. You’ll see, he’ll get his comeuppance for all his gaffes.

Narrator. — (Clears throat, correcting himself) Beltrán and Maravedí were indeed two renowned swordsmen. Their names resonated throughout the kingdom, yet the precise cause of their enduring animosity remained a topic of some… discussion. They frequently engaged in earth-shattering duels, though the underlying reasons for their bitter feelings were never truly known. Some whispered of an ancient curse, others simply attributed it to their inherent natures.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — There he goes again with the ‘discussion’ nonsense. This narrator’s no good, we need a new one.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Well, I don’t necessarily agree.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — You never do.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Hang on… I’m feeling a bit put out by that remark.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Are you now?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — This calls for a duel!

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Wouldn't have it any other way! On guard, you scoundrel!

Narrator. — They faced each other in open fields, in the hushed stillness of forests, in legendary cities. Each encounter was a spectacle, a lethal ballet of steel and agility. Yet, despite their evident skills, neither could ever definitively claim victory over the other.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Enough, Narrator! I have bested my opponent on countless occasions!

Narrator. — It must be noted that… one of them has claimed victory over the other numerous times.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — You’ve done it again! We’re not Zafir and Agenón, we’re…

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Beltrán and Maravedí… And what he’s saying is codswallop! I’m the one who’s trounced him time and again! He’s all puffed up with his fancy moves; I’m the genuinely brave and dashing one!

Narrator. — It must be noted that Beltrán, or perhaps… Maravedí… Look, I’m completely lost now! Who is Maravedí and who is… the other one?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Are you simple? Honestly! You’re going to end up with your head on a spike!

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — We need to go out there and tell him. Come on, let’s explain who we are.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — No, better if he comes to us.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Even better, we just start our scene and he can simply announce us.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Oi, you dim-witted narrator! Get over here! We’ll explain it to you.

Narrator. — (Shouting) No need! I’ve got it, I think! I’ll just announce you and then you can come on stage, alright?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Oh, very well then. Fine.

Narrator. — This is the story of two great swordsmen. Despite their remarkable abilities, neither could ever gain a lasting advantage over the other. One day, as they prepared for yet another encounter… one of these skilled combatants… named… well… pay very close attention… Here we go…

The Narrator exits.

Lights fade to black.

Scene 1

Tense music plays.

The murmur of an excited crowd can be heard.

Beltrán enters, a nimble swordsman with cape and sword. He moves backwards cautiously.

Beltrán. — (To Maravedí, who is still offstage) Ah, you treacherous fiend! You think that by cornering me in this fashion you have me beat?

Maravedí strides onto the stage. With fierce intent, he immediately lunges at Beltrán with his sword. The crowd responds with an excited roar.

Maravedí. — Get thee behind me, Beltrán Beltranejo! For that is all you are capable of: retreating like a spineless cur because you possess no true skill in the noble art of swordsmanship!

Beltrán expertly deflects Maravedí’s aggressive attacks.

Beltrán. — Now you get thee behind me! Back off, you oaf! You clearly haven’t the foggiest what ‘get thee behind me’ even means! Just back off!

Maravedí. — The one who knows nothing is you, Beltrán Beltranejo! I, unlike you, actually went to school! ‘Get thee behind me’ doesn’t simply mean ‘back off’, it implies a strategic withdrawal. “Move to the rear.” Precisely as I am now instructing you to do!

Beltrán. — What’s that supposed to mean?

Maravedí. — What do you mean, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Beltrán. — What?

Maravedí. — (Strikes him with his sword) Like so! I have delivered a riposte!

Beltrán. — (Unfazed) A riposte, you say?

Maravedí. — A riposte, I declare! One that has found its mark on your surprisingly sturdy frame!

Beltrán. — Still not feeling anything.

Maravedí. — Well, I’ve definitely connected! I can clearly see you are… well, something’s amiss.

Beltrán. — Can’t be that serious.

Maravedí. — Indeed it is! Some… decorative ribbons appear to have become detached from your… attire.

Beltrán. — Nonsense!

Maravedí. — Not at all! Behold! Crimson ribbons! Ribbons as red as the very flames of passion! A passion unrestrained, a passion that reaches for the very heavens!

Beltrán. — Calm yourself, my esteemed opponent! Don’t come at me with all that flowery language! Nobody, I assure you, nobody wants to hear your saccharine verses!

Maravedí. — And why then do you describe them as saccharine?

Beltrán. — It’s just a figure of speech. A manner of speaking, if you will.

Maravedí. — Ah, I see! A purely rhetorical flourish.

Beltrán. — Eh?

Maravedí. — What do you mean, “eh?”

Beltrán. — Are we here to have a natter about semantics, or are we going to have a proper go at it?

Maravedí. — (Delivers another strike) Enough of your envious prattling! Take this! A masterfully executed thrust! Now, admit that I have bested you in fair combat!

Beltrán. — I’m not having any of that! You cheated! And you’re trying to bamboozle me with your fancy words!

Maravedí. — It’s simply how I articulate myself! It’s hardly my fault if your comprehension is somewhat… limited.

Beltrán. — Right, right, stop your insults! You know I’ve always been the stronger… and braver… alright. I concede the round to you.

Maravedí. — Don’t be so magnanimous! I won fair and square!

Beltrán. — Perhaps I am being rather too… generous. Whatever. But in that case, I demand a rematch!

Maravedí. — You know I’m always game for another bout! But first, old chap, attend to that… dislodged ribbon.

Beltrán. — No need for that! Heroes such as myself simply allow minor… cosmetic adjustments to occur naturally. We are resilient! We are… well, considerably more robust than your average fellow!

Maravedí. — Then, shall we say, in three days hence?

Beltrán. — A date!

Maravedí. — No, no, not a date! Good heavens! An agreement!

Beltrán. — Right you are! Sorted!

Maravedí. — Precisely! An agreement. Until then, sir!

Beltrán. — Until then, indeed. You.

The swordsmen exit and disappear behind the screen.

Interlude

The lighting shifts to represent dusk, followed by a brief blackout, then re-emerges as bright sunlight.

The Narrator shuffles onto the stage.

Narrator. — From their earliest years, these two gentlemen displayed a marked inclination towards… spirited disagreements and a fondness for fisticuffs. They resided within the same kingdom and shared a mutual enthusiasm for… vigorous pursuits.

(Consults his notes)

And so… the precise nature of their rivalry remained a matter of… ongoing debate. From a tender age… Yes. It must be acknowledged that little is definitively known about their early lives. Yes, indeed. They certainly grew up within the same realm… And no, they were not siblings, although they were seldom seen apart. They were not of royal lineage, yet they consistently received the finest tutelage. Well, one of them certainly attended formal schooling. The other… also benefited from… instruction in the finer points of combat. In fact, both were adept with a blade from a young age. They were not part of the immediate royal family… That is to say, they were not sons of the King, yet the King held them in considerable regard. He was most fond of them and offered them his protection.

The King bestowed his favour upon them, and they matured together, though they hailed from different parentage. No, their parentage remains somewhat… obscure. Nevertheless, the King ensured they received an exemplary education… And as previously mentioned, the underlying cause of their animosity was a matter of speculation, or perhaps not so much, as they demonstrably enjoyed a good challenge and a bit of a scrap. They were perpetually bickering, yet invariably in each other’s company, and no, they were not brothers… despite their constant companionship… And… And shall we proceed with the subsequent scene, assuming you are all in agreement? Excellent. We shall continue.

Thank you.

Scene 2

Maravedí enters and begins to spar with an imaginary opponent.

Maravedí. — Ah, you villainous Beltrán! So you skulk away from me, do you? You know you are behaving like a craven coward by failing to meet me for our agreed-upon duel!

Ha! Ha! Ha! I shall disfigure your features! Observe as I cleanly sever your nose! Witness as I slice your cheek with the keen edge of my blade! Ah, sir! You have brought dishonour upon me by your absence! We had an arrangement! How could you possibly break your solemn word? Beltrán! Attend me! Your presence is required! For I intend to engage you in a vigorous exchange of swordplay! Ahem. Indeed! My greatest desire is for you to present yourself so that I may sever your head with my trusty steel! Thus! Thus I shall cut you down! I shall render your face unrecognisable! I shall deliver a thrust! And another! And yet another! And the assembled throng erupts with fervent applause! They cheer my triumph over you!

(The sound of a wildly cheering crowd is briefly heard, then silence.)

It is quite simply not on that you have left me standing here!

Beltrán bursts onto the stage with great energy, displaying impressive sword skills. A satisfied roar emanates from the unseen crowd.

Beltrán. — Ahooo! Ahuuuu! Here I stand! A master swordsman! Behold! Observe the power of my blade! I am the finest swordsman of my generation! Watch as I wield my weapon with unparalleled skill! Marvel at the artistry of my movements!

Maravedí. — Ah, you’re late, Beltrán Beltranejo! We had an accord to engage in a sword fight this very morning, and you have kept me waiting!

Beltrán. — It is never too late for a good sword fight! That is to say, the opportunity for a spirited duel is timeless! Here I am, my friend! Let us proceed!

Maravedí. — Proceed with what, exactly? I’m not entirely sure I follow.

Beltrán. — You wish to engage in combat, do you not? Here I am, brimming with energy and ready to face you! Let us cross swords!

Maravedí. — Indeed! Let us demonstrate our superior swordsmanship!

Beltrán. — Ah, that goes without saying! And it will become abundantly clear that I am the superior swordsman!

Maravedí. — Not at all! I am demonstrably the better swordsman! It is quite obvious that my blade work surpasses yours! Furthermore, I distinctly recall having already… well, never mind.

Beltrán. — You don’t say! So how is it that I am entirely unscathed and have not received so much as a scratch?

Maravedí. — Yes, well, I believe I may have… mistaken you for someone else.

Beltrán. — You have been duelling with another party?

Maravedí. — Yes, no, that is to say; it is somewhat convoluted.

Beltrán. — You engage in combat with another on the very day we had arranged our own encounter?

Maravedí. — No, it was merely a figure of speech! You arrived late, and…

Beltrán. — And nothing! I consider this a grave insult! You will pay for this affront!

Maravedí. — There is a perfectly reasonable explanation!

Beltrán. — Nonsense! Today you shall atone for your tardiness! I am so incensed, I can scarcely contain myself! I demand satisfaction! I shall flatten your nose and twist your neck!

Maravedí. — Not at all! We agreed upon no such barbarity! We shall settle our differences with our blades!

Beltrán. — You are in no position to dictate the terms! I shall twist your neck! Drop your sword, for you shall meet your end by strangulation at my very hands!

Maravedí. — No, my friend, listen to reason!

Beltrán. — I am not your friend! This is where your little charade ends! I shall kill you! Allow me to choke the very life out of you!

Maravedí. — No, no, no! Such violence is most unseemly! Ah, and look yonder! Justice approaches!

Beltrán. — Justice, you say? How can this be?

Maravedí. — They are running this way! Look! Two constables are hastening towards us! I believe word has spread of our… sword-related activities in this locale.

Beltrán. — We had best make ourselves scarce then. Feeling peckish?

Maravedí. — You know I always am.

Beltrán. — Come on then, my treat!

Maravedí. — And I wouldn’t say no to a drink either.

Beltrán. — But we mustn’t overindulge! You know how you get!

Maravedí. — Look who’s talking! The last time we partook in such refreshments, you were intent on laying waste to everything in your path! It was quite thrilling, actually… I was convinced that…

Beltrán. — Steady on, old chap, steady on.

Maravedí. — Steady on, nothing! Run for it! Justice is almost upon us! Let us depart from this place with haste!

Beltrán. — Let us make haste then, my friend! Food and drink await!

Maravedí. — Indeed! Let’s be off, my good fellow! Come on!

The End

Espadachines Entremés original de Ben Gavarre

Espadachines

Entremés original de Ben Gavarre

Personajes:

Maravedí

Beltrán

Narrador

PRÓLOGO

Sale el Narrador, vestido como un personaje del teatro de la época de Shakespeare, pero con telas, colores y accesorios modernos.

Narrador. — ¡Ay de mí! ¡Quienes me han encomendado narrar la historia de estos dos sufrirán mi descontento! Pues, como saben, o quizás no, dada su persistente… bueno, no importa. Baste decir que tenemos ante nosotros a dos figuras de cierta renombre con la espada: Zafir y… no, esperen. ¿Agenón? ¡Maldita sea! Sus nombres resonaron antaño por todo el reino, aunque la verdadera naturaleza de su perdurable disputa siguió siendo un enigma.

Tras un gran biombo cubierto de tela traslúcida, vislumbramos las siluetas de los espadachines, supuestamente esperando su momento. Ocasionalmente, una cabeza o un brazo pueden asomar. A menudo podemos distinguir su postura general y escuchar sus murmullos.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Otra vez lo ha hecho el zoquete! ¿Zafir y Agenón? ¡Por favor! Alguien debería hablar con él.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — A mí me gusta cómo suenan Zafir y Agenón. Dejémoslo así por esta noche. Ya lo corregiremos la próxima vez.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Eh, Narrador! ¡Que somos Beltrán y Maravedí! Maravedí y Beltrán. ¡A ver si te enteras, o habrá consecuencias!

Narrador. — Mis disculpas, permítanme consultar mis notas. Ah, sí, error mío. Como decía, Beltrán y Maravedí eran dos espadachines bastante peculiares. Sus reputaciones les precedían en cada rincón del reino, aunque la razón de sus constantes enfrentamientos seguía siendo… bueno, un tema de mucha especulación.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Otra vez con lo de 'peculiar'! Y ya lo dijo antes, ¿sabes? Suena un poco tonto, ¿no crees? A decir verdad, nuestra supuesta rivalidad no es ningún misterio. Simplemente nos encanta un buen desafío y una buena pelea.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¡Claro que sí! Nos gusta zurrarnos de lo lindo.

En ese momento, Beltrán y Maravedí salen de detrás del biombo y se enzarzan inmediatamente en un animado (y bastante torpe) combate de esgrima, salpicado de coloridos insultos.

Beltrán. — ¡Miserable cretino!

Maravedí. — ¡Mentecato simplón!

Beltrán. — ¡Absoluto papanatas!

Maravedí. — Oh, ¿así que vamos a los insultos ahora? ¡Pues eres un completo y absoluto idiota!

Beltrán. — ¿Ah sí? ¡Pues tú eres más idiota, pedazo de engreído!

Maravedí. — ¡Hazmerreír!

Beltrán. — ¡No, tú eres el hazmerreír!

Pausa.

Maravedí. — Recuérdame, ¿por qué estábamos enfadados?

Beltrán. — No sabría decirte. Tú empezaste.

Maravedí. — ¿Te apetecería seguir con la obra entonces?

Beltrán. — Me parece una idea excelente.

Maravedí. — Bien, vamos a ello.

Se retiran tras el biombo, continuando su simulacro de batalla.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¿Ves? Mucho más fácil cuando no nos lanzamos improperios.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — Sigues siendo un idiota, eso sí.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¡Me has llamado idiota! ¡Pues el idiota eres tú! ¡En fin! Esto merece un duelo en condiciones.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¿Ah, sí, listo?

Fuertes choques y ruidos metálicos emanan de detrás del biombo, acompañados por el ocasional golpe sordo.

Narrador. — Nuestros héroes, ejem, Beltrán y Maravedí, estaban inmersos en un conflicto perpetuo. Los duelos eran su pasatiempo constante. Día tras día.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¡Ya te hemos dicho que somos Beltrán y Maravedí! ¡En serio, este tipo es un poco corto de luces, ¿verdad?!

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — Déjalo estar. Es un narrador pésimo y acabará pagando por sus torpezas. ¡Ya verás, le llegará su merecido por todas sus meteduras de pata!

Narrador. — (Aclarándose la garganta, corrigiéndose) Beltrán y Maravedí eran, en efecto, dos renombrados espadachines. Sus nombres resonaban por todo el reino, aunque la causa precisa de su perdurable animosidad seguía siendo tema de cierta… discusión. Frecuentemente se enzarzaban en duelos que hacían temblar la tierra, aunque las razones subyacentes de su acérrimo odio nunca se conocieron realmente. Algunos susurraban sobre una antigua maldición, otros simplemente lo atribuían a su naturaleza intrínseca.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — Ahí va otra vez con lo de la 'discusión'. Este narrador no vale, necesitamos uno nuevo.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — Bueno, no necesariamente estoy de acuerdo.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — Tú nunca estás de acuerdo.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — Espera un momento… Me siento un poco ofendido por ese comentario.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¿Ah, sí?

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Esto exige un duelo!

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¡No podría ser de otra manera! ¡En guardia, canalla!

Narrador. — Se enfrentaron en campos abiertos, en la silenciosa quietud de los bosques, en ciudades legendarias. Cada encuentro era un espectáculo, un ballet letal de acero y agilidad. Sin embargo, a pesar de sus evidentes habilidades, ninguno pudo jamás reclamar una victoria definitiva sobre el otro.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Basta ya, Narrador! ¡He derrotado a mi oponente en incontables ocasiones!

Narrador. — Debe señalarse que… uno de ellos ha reclamado la victoria sobre el otro en numerosas ocasiones.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Lo has vuelto a hacer! ¡Que no somos Zafir y Agenón, somos…!

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — ¡Beltrán y Maravedí! ¡Y lo que él dice son tonterías! ¡Yo soy quien le ha vapuleado una y otra vez! Él va todo engreído con sus movimientos sofisticados; ¡yo soy el genuinamente valiente y gallardo!

Narrador. — Debe señalarse que Beltrán, o quizás… Maravedí… ¡Miren, estoy completamente perdido! ¿Quién es Maravedí y quién es…? ¿El otro?

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¿Eres tonto? ¡Por Dios! ¡Vas a acabar con la cabeza clavada en una pica!

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — Tenemos que salir y decírselo. Venga, vamos a explicarle quiénes somos.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — No, mejor que venga él a nosotros.

Voz 2 (Beltrán). — Aún mejor, simplemente empezamos nuestra escena y él puede limitarse a anunciarnos.

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — ¡Eh, tú, narrador torpe! ¡Ven aquí! ¡Te lo vamos a explicar!

Narrador. — (Gritando) ¡No hace falta! ¡Creo que lo he pillado! ¡Simplemente les anunciaré y luego pueden salir al escenario, ¿de acuerdo?!

Voz 1 (Maravedí). — Oh, muy bien entonces. De acuerdo.

Narrador. — Esta es la historia de dos grandes espadachines. A pesar de sus notables habilidades, ninguno pudo obtener jamás una ventaja duradera sobre el otro. Un día, mientras se preparaban para otro encuentro más… uno de estos hábiles combatientes… llamado… bueno… presten mucha atención… Aquí vamos…

El Narrador sale.

Oscuro.

Escena 1

Música de tensión.

Se escucha el murmullo de una multitud excitada.

Entra Beltrán, un espadachín ágil con capa y espada. Se mueve hacia atrás con cautela.

Beltrán. — (A Maravedí, que aún no está en escena) ¡Ah, traidor vil! ¿Crees que acorralándome de esta manera me has de vencer?

Maravedí irrumpe en el escenario. Con feroz intención, ataca inmediatamente a Beltrán con su espada. La multitud responde con un rugido excitado.

Maravedí. — ¡Apártate de mi vista, Beltrán Beltranejo! ¡Porque eso es todo de lo que eres capaz: retirarte como un cobarde sin entrañas porque careces de verdadera habilidad en el noble arte de la esgrima!

Beltrán desvía con maestría los agresivos ataques de Maravedí.

Beltrán. — ¡Ahora tú apártate de mi vista! ¡Retrocede, palurdo! ¡Claramente no tienes ni idea de lo que significa 'apártate de mi vista'! ¡Solo retrocede!

Maravedí. — El que no sabe nada eres tú, Beltrán Beltranejo! Yo, a diferencia de ti, ¡fui a la escuela! 'Apártate de mi vista' no significa simplemente 'retrocede', implica una retirada estratégica. “Muévete hacia la retaguardia.” ¡Precisamente como te estoy indicando ahora!

Beltrán. — ¿Qué se supone que significa eso?

Maravedí. — ¿Qué quieres decir con “qué se supone que significa eso?”

Beltrán. — ¿Qué?

Maravedí. — (Le alcanza con su espada) ¡Así! ¡He realizado una réplica!

Beltrán. — (Imperturbable) ¿Una réplica, dices?

Maravedí. — ¡Una réplica, declaro! ¡Una que ha dado en el blanco en tu sorprendentemente robusto cuerpo!

Beltrán. — Sigo sin sentir nada.

Maravedí. — ¡Bueno, definitivamente he conectado! Claramente puedo ver que estás… bueno, algo va mal.

Beltrán. — No puede ser tan grave.

Maravedí. — ¡De hecho, lo es! Algunas… cintas decorativas parecen haberse desprendido de tu… atuendo.

Beltrán. — ¡Tonterías!

Maravedí. — ¡En absoluto! ¡Contempla! ¡Cintas carmesí! ¡Cintas tan rojas como las mismísimas llamas de la pasión! ¡Una pasión desenfrenada, una pasión que alcanza los mismísimos cielos!

Beltrán. — ¡Cálmate, mi estimado oponente! ¡No me vengas con ese lenguaje florido! ¡Nadie, te aseguro, nadie quiere oír tus versos almibarados!

Maravedí. — ¿Y por qué entonces los describes como almibarados?

Beltrán. — Es solo una figura retórica. Una manera de hablar, si lo prefieres.

Maravedí. — ¡Ah, ya veo! Un mero adorno retórico.

Beltrán. — ¿Eh?

Maravedí. — ¿Qué quieres decir con “eh?”

Beltrán. — ¿Estamos aquí para charlar sobre semántica o vamos a darnos una buena tunda?

Maravedí. — (Asesta otro golpe) ¡Basta de tus celosos parloteos! ¡Toma esto! ¡Una estocada magistralmente ejecutada! ¡Ahora, admite que te he vencido en combate limpio!

Beltrán. — ¡No me vengas con esas! ¡Hiciste trampa! ¡Y estás tratando de embaucarme con tus palabras sofisticadas!

Maravedí. — ¡Simplemente es así como me expreso! Difícilmente es mi culpa si tu comprensión es un tanto… limitada.

Beltrán. — ¡Vale, vale, deja de insultarme! ¡Sabes que siempre he sido el más fuerte… y más valiente… bien! Te concedo la ronda.

Maravedí. — ¡No seas tan magnánimo! ¡He ganado justamente!

Beltrán. — Quizás esté siendo demasiado… generoso. Lo que sea. ¡Pero en ese caso, exijo una revancha!

Maravedí. — ¡Sabes que siempre estoy dispuesto a otro asalto! Pero primero, viejo amigo, atiende esa… cinta desprendida.

Beltrán. — ¡No hace falta eso! Héroes como yo simplemente permitimos que los pequeños… ajustes cosméticos ocurran naturalmente. ¡Somos resistentes! ¡Somos… bueno, considerablemente más robustos que el tipo normal!

Maravedí. — Entonces, ¿diremos, dentro de tres días?

Beltrán. — ¡Una cita!

Maravedí. — ¡No, no, no una cita! ¡Santo cielo! ¡Un acuerdo!

Beltrán. — ¡Así es! ¡Arreglado!

Maravedí. — ¡Precisamente! Un acuerdo. ¡Hasta entonces, señor!

Beltrán. — ¡Hasta entonces, sin duda! Tú.

Los espadachines salen y desaparecen tras el biombo.

Intermedio

La iluminación cambia para representar el crepúsculo, seguido de un breve fundido a negro, y luego reaparece como luz de sol brillante.

El Narrador entra arrastrando los pies en el escenario.

Narrador. — Desde sus más tiernos años, estos dos caballeros mostraron una marcada inclinación hacia… desacuerdos animados y una afición por las peleas a puñetazos. Residían en el mismo reino y compartían un entusiasmo mutuo por… actividades vigorosas.

(Consulta sus notas)

Y así… la naturaleza precisa de su rivalidad seguía siendo materia de… debate en curso. Desde una edad temprana… Sí. Debe reconocerse que poco se conoce con certeza sobre sus primeros años. Sí, en efecto. Ciertamente crecieron dentro del mismo reino… Y no, no eran hermanos, aunque rara vez se les veía separados. No eran de linaje real, sin embargo, recibieron constantemente la mejor educación. Bueno, uno de ellos ciertamente asistió a la escuela formal. El otro… también se benefició de… instrucción en los puntos más finos del combate. De hecho, ambos eran diestros con la espada desde jóvenes. No eran parte de la familia real inmediata… Es decir, no eran hijos del Rey, sin embargo, el Rey los tenía en considerable estima. Les tenía mucho cariño y les ofrecía su protección.

El Rey les concedió su favor, y maduraron juntos, aunque provenían de diferente ascendencia. No, su ascendencia sigue siendo algo… oscura. No obstante, el Rey se aseguró de que recibieran una educación ejemplar… Y como se mencionó anteriormente, la causa subyacente de su animosidad era motivo de especulación, o quizás no tanto, ya que demostrablemente disfrutaban de un buen desafío y una pequeña trifulca. Estaban perpetuamente discutiendo, sin embargo, invariablemente juntos, y no, no eran hermanos… a pesar de su constante compañía… Y… Y ¿procederemos con la siguiente escena, asumiendo que todos están de acuerdo? Excelente. Continuaremos.

Gracias.

Escena 2

Maravedí entra y comienza a entrenar contra un oponente imaginario.

Maravedí. — ¡Ah, tú, ruin Beltrán! ¿Así que te escondes de mí, eh? ¡Sabes que te estás comportando como un cobarde miserable al no presentarte a nuestro duelo acordado!

¡Ja! ¡Ja! ¡Ja! ¡Te desfiguraré el rostro! ¡Observa cómo te cerceno limpiamente la nariz! ¡Sé testigo de cómo te corto la mejilla con el afilado filo de mi espada! ¡Ah, señor! ¡Me has deshonrado con tu ausencia! ¡Teníamos un acuerdo! ¿Cómo pudiste romper tu solemne palabra? ¡Beltrán! ¡Atiéndeme! ¡Tu presencia es requerida! ¡Pues tengo la intención de enfrentarme contigo en un vigoroso intercambio de floretes! ¡Ejem! ¡En efecto! ¡Mi mayor deseo es que te presentes para que pueda cortarte la cabeza con mi fiel acero! ¡Así! ¡Así te derribaré! ¡Te dejaré la cara irreconocible! ¡Te daré una estocada! ¡Y otra! ¡Y otra más! ¡Y la multitud reunida estalla en fervientes aplausos! ¡Aclaman mi triunfo sobre ti!

(Se escucha brevemente el sonido de una multitud vitoreando salvajemente, luego silencio.)

¡Simplemente no está bien que me hayas dejado plantado!

Beltrán irrumpe en el escenario con gran energía, mostrando impresionantes habilidades con la espada. Un rugido satisfecho emana de la multitud invisible.

Beltrán. — ¡Ahooo! ¡Ahuuuu! ¡Aquí estoy! ¡Un maestro espadachín! ¡Contemplad! ¡Observad el poder de mi espada! ¡Soy el mejor espadachín de mi generación! ¡Ved cómo empuño mi arma con habilidad sin igual! ¡Maravillaos ante la maestría de mis movimientos!

Maravedí. — ¡Ah, llegas tarde, Beltrán Beltranejo! ¡Teníamos un pacto para batirnos en duelo con espadas esta misma mañana, y me has hecho esperar!

Beltrán. — ¡Nunca es demasiado tarde para un buen duelo de espadas! Es decir, ¡la oportunidad para un encuentro animado es atemporal! ¡Aquí estoy, mi amigo! ¡Procedamos!

Maravedí. — ¿Proceder con qué, exactamente? No estoy del todo seguro de seguirte.

Beltrán. — Deseas entablar combate, ¿no es así? ¡Aquí estoy, rebosante de energía y listo para enfrentarte! ¡Crucemos espadas!

Maravedí. — ¡En efecto! ¡Demostremos nuestra superior destreza con la espada!

Beltrán. — ¡Ah, eso ni se discute! ¡Y quedará meridianamente claro que yo soy el espadachín superior!

Maravedí. — ¡En absoluto! ¡Yo soy demostrablemente el mejor espadachín! ¡Es bastante obvio que mi manejo de la espada supera al tuyo! Además, recuerdo claramente haberte… bueno, no importa.

Beltrán. — ¡No me digas! ¿Entonces cómo es que estoy completamente ileso y no he recibido ni un rasguño?

Maravedí. — Sí, bueno, creo que puede que te haya… confundido con otra persona.

Beltrán. — ¿Has estado batiéndote en duelo con otro contendiente?

Maravedí. — Sí, no, es decir; es algo enrevesado.

Beltrán. — ¿Te bates en duelo con otro el mismo día que habíamos acordado nuestro propio encuentro?

Maravedí. — ¡No, era simplemente una figura retórica! ¡Llegaste tarde, y…!

Beltrán. — ¡Y nada! ¡Considero esto un grave insulto! ¡Pagarás por esta afrenta!

Maravedí. — ¡Hay una explicación perfectamente razonable!

Beltrán. — ¡Tonterías! ¡Hoy expiarás tu tardanza! ¡Estoy tan indignado que apenas puedo contenerme! ¡Exijo satisfacción! ¡Te aplastaré la nariz y te torceré el cuello!

Maravedí. — ¡En absoluto! ¡Acordamos que no habría tal barbaridad! ¡Resolveremos nuestras diferencias con nuestras espadas!

Beltrán. — ¡No estás en posición de dictar los términos! ¡Te torceré el cuello! ¡Suelta tu espada, pues tu fin llegará por estrangulamiento a mis propias manos!

Maravedí. — ¡No, amigo mío, escucha la razón!

Beltrán. — ¡No soy tu amigo! ¡Aquí termina tu pequeña farsa! ¡Te mataré! ¡Permíteme ahogarte hasta quitarte la vida!

Maravedí. — ¡No, no, no! ¡Tal violencia es muy impropia! ¡Ah, y mira allí! ¡Se acerca la Justicia!

Beltrán. — ¿La Justicia, dices? ¿Cómo puede ser?

Maravedí. — ¡Están corriendo hacia aquí! ¡Mira! ¡Dos alguaciles se apresuran hacia nosotros! Creo que se ha corrido la voz de nuestras… actividades relacionadas con las espadas en este lugar.

Beltrán. — Será mejor que nos marchemos de aquí entonces. ¿Tienes hambre?

Maravedí. — Sabes que siempre la tengo.

Beltrán. — ¡Vamos entonces, invito yo!

Maravedí. — Y tampoco le haría ascos a una copa.

Beltrán. — ¡Pero no debemos excedernos con la bebida! ¡Ya sabes cómo te pones!

Maravedí. — ¡Mira quién habla! ¡La última vez que participamos en tales refrescos, estabas decidido a arrasar con todo a tu paso! Fue bastante emocionante, en realidad… Estaba convencido de que…

Beltrán. — Tranquilo, viejo, tranquilo.

Maravedí. — ¡Tranquilo nada! ¡Corred! ¡La Justicia casi nos alcanza! ¡Salgamos de este lugar con premura!

Beltrán. — ¡Vámonos presto entonces, amigo mío! ¡Comida y bebida nos esperan!

Maravedí. — ¡Así es! ¡Vámonos, mi buen amigo! ¡Vamos!

Fin

The Swordsmen An original one-act play by Ben Gavarre

The Swordsmen

An original one-act play by Ben Gavarre

Characters:

Maravedí

Beltrán

Narrator

PROLOGUE

The Narrator enters, dressed as a character from Shakespearean theatre, but with fabrics, colours and accessories of our time.

Narrator. — Ah, woe is me! Those who have tasked me to speak of these two shall pay dearly. And as you know: these are two legendary swordsmen, Zafír and Agenón. Their names echoed in every corner of the kingdom, yet the reason for their rivalry remained an enigma.

Behind a large screen covered with translucent fabric, we can see the silhouettes of the swordsmen who are supposedly offstage, although they occasionally poke their heads or arms out. We can generally see their body language and hear their voices.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — That idiot's got it wrong again. Zafir and Agenón, are we? Someone needs to tell him.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — I quite like the names Zafir and Agenón myself. Just leave it for now. We can correct it next performance.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Oi, Narrator! We're not Zafir and Agenón. We're Beltrán and Maravedí. Maravedí and Beltrán. Get it right, or you know what.

Narrator. — Let me just consult my notes. Ah, yes, as I was saying, Maravedí and Beltrán were two enigmatic swordsmen. Their names resonated in every region of the kingdom, yet the reason for their rivalry is an enigma.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — You've got it wrong again! You repeated the bit about the enigma. And you already used 'enigmatic', it sounds bad, you know. And to be honest, the reason for our rivalry isn't an enigma at all: we like a good challenge and adventure.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Yeah, we like to fight.

At that moment, the two swordsmen Beltrán and Maravedí emerge from behind the screen and begin a fencing match, complete with insults.

Beltrán. — You wretched cretin!

Maravedí. — You nincompoop!

Beltrán. — You piece of scum!

Maravedí. — Oh, so we're resorting to insults now, are we? Well, you're a blithering idiot!

Beltrán. — Are I? Well, you're an even bigger idiot, you conceited git.

Maravedí. — You laughing stock!

Beltrán. — No, you're the laughing stock!

Pause.

Maravedí. — Why are we angry again?

Beltrán. — Dunno. You started it.

Maravedí. — How about we carry on with the story?

Beltrán. — Sounds good to me.

Maravedí. — Right then, let's go.

They go back behind the screen and continue their fight.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — See? It's easier when we don't insult each other.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Told you, you're an idiot.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — You called me an idiot! You're the idiot! Whatever. This calls for a duel.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — You reckon, you idiot?

They fight behind the screen. We hear bangs and clanging metal and some other strange noises.

Narrator. — Zafir and Agenón were constantly at odds; they were always duelling. All the time.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — We've told you already: we're Beltrán and Maravedí!

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Just leave it, he's a very clumsy narrator and he'll pay for his words. You're gonna die, you hear me? You're gonna die for your clumsiness.

Narrator. — (Correcting the names) Beltrán and Maravedí were two legendary swordsmen. Their names echoed in every corner of the kingdom, yet their rivalry was an enigma. They constantly faced each other in duels that shook the very ground, but the reasons for their hatred were never known. Some said it was an ancient curse, others that it was simply their nature.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — You heard that, carry on with the enigma bit. This narrator's useless, we need to replace him.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Well, I don't agree.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — You never agree.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Oi... I'm offended by your words.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Are you sure about that?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — This calls for a duel!

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Wouldn't have it any other way. En garde, you scoundrel!

Narrator. — They clashed on battlefields, in silent forests, in legendary cities. Each duel was a spectacle, a deadly dance of steel and agility. Despite their skills, neither managed to defeat the other definitively.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Shut your trap, Narrator! I have bested my enemy countless times!

Narrator. — It is necessary to say that Zafir has been capable of defeating Agenón countless times.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — You've got it wrong again, Narrator! We're not Zafir and Agenón, we're...

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Beltrán and Maravedí... And what Zafir says is false... I'm the one who has defeated him countless times... He's got little show-off hands; I'm the truly brave and courageous one.

Narrator. — It is necessary to say that Beltrán, that Agenón... that Maravedí... Hang on, I'm confused... Who is Maravedí and who is Agenor...?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Are you thick or what? Honestly. You're going to get your head chopped off.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — We need to go tell him. Let's go out and explain who we are.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — No, better if he comes here.

Voice 2 (Beltrán). — Better if our scene just starts and he just announces us.

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Hey, you daft narrator! Get over here! We're going to explain it to you.

Narrator. — (Shouting to them) No need, I understand! I'll just announce you and then you can come out, alright?

Voice 1 (Maravedí). — Alright then. Fine.

Narrator. — This is the story of two great swordsmen. Despite their skills, neither managed to defeat the other. One day, while they were preparing for another duel... one of the two swordsmen... called... Well... pay close attention... We're about to begin...

The Narrator exits.

Lights fade to black.

Scene 1

Tense music plays.

The sound of an excited crowd is heard.

Beltrán enters, a skilled swordsman with a cape and sword. He walks backwards.

Beltrán. — (To Maravedí, who is not yet on stage) Ah, you wretched traitor! You think cornering me like this will lead to my defeat?

Maravedí enters. He immediately attacks Beltrán fiercely with his sword. The crowd cheers his entrance.

Maravedí. — Get thee behind me, Beltrán Beltranejo! That's all you ever do, back away like a miserable coward because you have no skill in the art of fencing!

Beltrán skillfully parries Maravedí's attacks.

Beltrán. — Get thee behind me now, you! Get back, because you don't even know what 'get thee behind me' means! Get back!

Maravedí. — The one who knows nothing is you, Beltrán Beltranejo! I actually went to school! 'Get thee behind me' doesn't mean 'get back'! It means 'go behind'. "Go behind." Just like I'm telling you to go behind now.

Beltrán. — How so?

Maravedí. — What do you mean, 'how so'?

Beltrán. — How?

Maravedí. — (Strikes him with his sword) Like this! I've given you a thrust!

Beltrán. — (Unmoved) A thrust, you say?

Maravedí. — A thrust, I say! I've already given it to you! I've struck your gallant body with my sword!

Beltrán. — Well, I don't feel a thing.

Maravedí. — Well, I've given it to you! I can see you bleeding.

Beltrán. — It can't be that bad.

Maravedí. — Yes, it is! Blood is flowing from your fair form!

Beltrán. — No, it isn't.

Maravedí. — Yes, it is! I've undone some ribbons! Some red ribbons! Red ribbons like passion! A boundless passion, a passion that soars to the heavens!

Beltrán. — Calm down, my noble opponent! Don't come at me with poetry! Nobody, I swear, nobody wants to hear your sweet verses!

Maravedí. — And why do you call them sweet, then?

Beltrán. — It's just a saying. Saying things is a way of talking.

Maravedí. — Ah, yes, I understand. It's purely a rhetorical question.

Beltrán. — What?

Maravedí. — What do you mean, 'what'?

Beltrán. — Are you going to fight or just carry on with your showing off?

Maravedí. — (Gives him another thrust) Shut up, you jealous git! Here you go! I now give you a masterful thrust... and now admit that I have defeated you fairly!

Beltrán. — I don't agree! You cheated and you're trying to sweet-talk me with your so-called elegant words!

Maravedí. — That's how I usually speak! It's not my fault if you can't understand me!

Beltrán. — Right, right, stop insulting me! You know I've always been stronger... and braver... alright. I concede the victory to you.

Maravedí. — Don't be so magnanimous! I beat you!

Beltrán. — Maybe I am being very magna...nimous, whatever, but in that case, I demand a rematch!

Maravedí. — You know I'm always ready! But first, recover, my friend. Attend to that wound.

Beltrán. — No need, not at all! Heroes like me let their wounds heal on their own! We're strong, we're macho, we're... much more than macho, we're...

Maravedí. — Then, until three days from now.

Beltrán. — It's a date!

Maravedí. — No, no, it's not a date! Good heavens, it's an agreement!

Beltrán. — Right, right, we're agreed then.

Maravedí. — That's it, it's an agreement. Until then, sir!

Beltrán. — Until then, certainly! You.

The gentlemen exit and hide behind the screen.

Interlude

The lighting represents a sunset, and after a brief blackout, it represents a sunny day.

The Narrator enters the stage.

Narrator. — Even from a very early age, these two gentlemen showed signs of being very angry and eager to fight. They lived in the same kingdom and both shared a love of fighting.

(Consults his notes)

And well... the reason for their rivalry was an enigma... From a very young age... Yes. It must be said that little is known about them, yes, no. It is known that they grew up in the same kingdom... And no, they weren't brothers, although they were usually always together. They weren't princes, but they always received the best education. Well, at least one of them went to school. The other one also had... He took lessons in chivalry, in fact, both of them learned to use the sword from a young age. They weren't part of the kingdom... That is, they weren't the King's sons, but apparently the King held them in high esteem. He loved them very much and protected them.

The King favoured them with his grace, and they grew up together, but they had different fathers. No. It's not really known who their parents were, but the King ensured they received a very good education... And as is well known, the reason for their rivalry was an enigma, or perhaps not so much, they liked challenges and fights. They always fought, but they were always together, and no, they weren't brothers... although they were always together... And... And let's move on to the next scene, if you all agree. And thank you. Onwards. We continue.

Thank you.

Scene 2

Maravedí enters and begins to fight alone against an imaginary enemy.

Maravedí. — Ah, you son of a bitch, Beltrán! So you hide from me, do you? You know you're behaving like a coward by not coming to fight me as we agreed!

Ah! Ah! Ah! I'm going to disfigure your face! Watch how I slice your nose clean off! Watch how I cut your cheek with the sharp point of my sword! Ah, sir, you have dishonoured me by not coming to fight me! We had an agreement! How could you break your word? Beltrán, listen! You must come, because I want to have a sword fight with you! Ahem. It is my very desire that you come so I can chop off your head with my sword! Like this! Like this I cut you with my sword! I disfigure your face! I give you a thrust! And another one! And another one! And the crowd goes wild! Everyone screams! An enthusiastic multitude acknowledges my triumph over you!

(The sound of an enraged crowd is heard, then silence.)

It's not possible that you've stood me up!

Beltrán enters with great energy and demonstrates his skill with his sword. A satisfied roar is heard from the crowd.

Beltrán. — Ahoo! Ahuuu! Here I am! I am a great swordsman! Look! Look at the power of my sword! I am the best swordsman of my generation, and I wield my sword with mastery! Look! Look how well I move my sword!

Maravedí. — Ah, you're late, Beltrán Beltranejo! We agreed that we would have a sword fight this morning, and you're late!

Beltrán. — It's never too late for a sword fight! That is, it's never too late. Here I am, my friend! Let's do it!

Maravedí. — Do what? I don't understand.

Beltrán. — You want to fight or what? Here I am, full of energy to fight you! Let's have a sword fight!

Maravedí. — Of course! Let's show them we are the best swordsmen!

Beltrán. — Ah, that goes without saying! And it will be very clear that I am the best swordsman!

Maravedí. — Not at all! I am the best! It's clear to me that I move my sword better than you! Besides, I've already cut your nose and left a gash on your cheek!

Beltrán. — Don't tell me! How come I'm perfectly fine and haven't received a single thrust?

Maravedí. — Yes, I think I confused you with someone else.

Beltrán. — You've been fighting someone else?

Maravedí. — Yes, no, I mean; it's complicated.

Beltrán. — You fight someone else on the day we had agreed upon?

Maravedí. — No, it's just a saying! You arrived late and...

Beltrán. — And nothing! I consider that a major affront and you will have to pay!

Maravedí. — There's an explanation for everything!

Beltrán. — Nothing doing! Today you will pay for your affront! I'm so beside myself, I can't even stand to be inside my own skin! I want to get revenge on you! I'm going to crush your nose and twist your neck!

Maravedí. — Not at all! We agreed there would be no crushing or twisting! We will only fight with swords!

Beltrán. — You're not the one to remind me of the rules! I'm going to twist your neck! Drop your sword, because you're going to die by hanging at my hands!

Maravedí. — No, my friend, listen!

Beltrán. — I'm not your friend! This is the end of the line for you! I must kill you! Let me strangle you!

Maravedí. — No, no, no! It's not wise! Ah, and look! Here comes Justice!

Beltrán. — Justice, you say? But how?

Maravedí. — They're coming running! Look! Two officers are running towards us! I think word got out that there are sword fights happening here!

Beltrán. — We'd better get out of here. Are you hungry?

Maravedí. — You know I always am.

Beltrán. — Let's go, I'll treat you to a meal.

Maravedí. — And I fancy a drink too.

Beltrán. — But we mustn't overdo it with the drink! You know what you're like!

Maravedí. — Look who's talking! The last time we drank, you wanted to destroy everything in your path! It was so exciting... I was sure that...

Beltrán. — Calm down, calm down.

Maravedí. — Calm down, nothing! Run! Justice is approaching! Let's get out of here!

Beltrán. — Let's go quickly, my friend! Food and drink it is!

Maravedí. — That's what I'm saying! Let's go quickly, my friend! Come on!

The End

Análisis Dramático y Escénico:

Estructura y Género:

 * Farsa Meta-teatral: La obra se inscribe claramente dentro del género de la farsa, utilizando el humor absurdo y la ruptura de la cuarta pared como principales recursos. La constante interacción de los personajes con el narrador y las referencias explícitas a la propia representación teatral la convierten en una pieza meta-teatral.

 * Prólogo y Escenas Cortas: La estructura en un prólogo y dos escenas cortas facilita un ritmo ágil y dinámico, ideal para mantener la atención del público en una obra de corte cómico.

 * Conflicto Central: El conflicto principal reside en la incapacidad del narrador para seguir el hilo de la historia y los verdaderos nombres de los espadachines, lo que provoca constantes interrupciones y un caos divertido. A esto se suma la peculiar relación de rivalidad-amistad entre Beltrán y Maravedí.

Personajes:

 * Maravedí y Beltrán: Son arquetipos del espadachín valiente y pendenciero, pero llevados al extremo de la ridiculez. Su rivalidad parece más un juego o una excusa para la acción que un conflicto real. Sus personalidades son complementarias: Maravedí es más presumido y pedante, mientras que Beltrán es más impulsivo y directo.

 * Narrador: Es el personaje que sufre la burla constante de los espadachines. Su intento de mantener el orden y la coherencia de la narración se ve frustrado una y otra vez, lo que genera gran parte del humor de la obra. Su vestuario, una mezcla de épocas, ya establece un tono anacrónico y humorístico desde el inicio.

Elementos Escénicos Destacados:

 * El Biombo: Este elemento escénico es fundamental. Actúa como límite entre el escenario y el fuera de escena, permitiendo juegos de ocultamiento, revelación y generando la sensación de que los personajes existen más allá de lo que se muestra al público. Las siluetas y las voces detrás del biombo crean un efecto de anticipación y sorpresa.

 * Vestuario: El contraste del vestuario del Narrador (mezcla de Shakespeare y elementos contemporáneos) con el presumible vestuario de época de los espadachines (capa y espada) acentúa el carácter anacrónico y cómico de la obra.

 * Sonido: El uso de música de tensión, el sonido de la multitud emocionada y el silencio posterior son recursos sonoros que contribuyen a la atmósfera cómica y a la sorpresa del público.

Posibilidades de Montaje:

 * Énfasis en la Farsa: Un montaje podría enfocarse en exagerar los elementos cómicos, utilizando un ritmo muy rápido, gestos y expresiones faciales exageradas, y un vestuario aún más llamativo y ridículo para los espadachines.

 * Teatro de Movimiento y Clown: Dada la naturaleza física de las peleas (aunque interrumpidas y poco serias), se podría explorar un montaje con elementos de teatro físico o clown, donde las caídas, los tropiezos y las coreografías de esgrima torpes generen humor.

 * Minimalismo Escénico: El biombo podría ser el único elemento escenográfico relevante, potenciando la imaginación del público para el resto de los escenarios mencionados por el narrador. El juego de luces podría ser crucial para marcar los cambios de escena y el "intermedio".

 * Interacción con el Público: La ruptura de la cuarta pared ya está presente en el texto, pero un montaje podría intensificarla con el Narrador dirigiéndose directamente al público, buscando su complicidad ante las ocurrencias de los espadachines.

 * Adaptación para Diferentes Espacios: La obra, con su escenografía sencilla, se presta para ser representada en diversos espacios, desde teatros convencionales hasta espacios más alternativos o incluso al aire libre.

Crítica Razonada:

Puntos Fuertes:

 * Humor Absurdo y Original: La obra destaca por su humor meta-teatral y la divertida dinámica entre el narrador y los personajes. La confusión con los nombres y la constante interrupción de la narración generan situaciones cómicas muy efectivas.

 * Agilidad y Ritmo: La brevedad de las escenas y la constante acción (aunque sea cómica) aseguran un ritmo dinámico que mantiene el interés del espectador.

 * Potencial para la Creatividad Escénica: La sencillez de la escenografía propuesta (principalmente el biombo) ofrece mucha libertad para la creatividad del director y los diseñadores.

 * Reflexión sobre el Teatro: De manera ligera y cómica, la obra reflexiona sobre el papel del narrador, la construcción de la historia y la relación entre los personajes y el público.

Posibles Debilidades:

 * Desarrollo de Personajes: Si bien el humor es efectivo, los personajes podrían tener un poco más de profundidad para evitar caer en la pura caricatura. Explorar ligeramente las razones de su "rivalidad" (más allá del gusto por pelear) podría enriquecer la obra.

 

Conclusión:

"Espadachines" es una obra con un gran potencial cómico, ideal para un montaje que explore la farsa y el meta-teatro. Su estructura ágil, sus personajes divertidos y la sencillez de su propuesta escénica la convierten en una pieza atractiva para grupos de teatro que busquen una obra original.

Little Moon By Ben Gavarre

Little Moon

By Ben Gavarre

 

 

My name is Moon. They found me in a tire. The tire was my home, my bed, my refuge.

      I never knew my father; I remember my mother very well because she protected us, gave us food, and taught us how to take our first steps.

I remember my siblings a lot. They were always angry because I was the best of all. I learned to walk before anyone else, to look for edible insects before anyone else… and also to eat almost all the leftovers that a cheesy-scented woman occasionally brought to my mom.

At first, we lived together in a small, abandoned room on an ugly, gray lot near a large avenue. My mother breastfed us patiently. We were three siblings, three very close puppies, our bodies pressed together as we fell asleep in our beautiful mother's lap.

She was small and strong. She was indomitable and almost always affectionate.  She kept us well fed and sheltered. She was so generous that she gave us all the food they gave us and nudged us with her little nose so we could learn to walk.

*

The weeks passed, and all we did was grow and fend for ourselves.

By now, almost all of us had chosen a private place for our urgent needs. We had fiercely marked them as our respective territories. Mine was at the farthest part, almost at the bottom of the vacant lot. It was the ideal place for a young lady like me to pee without anyone seeing me.

Suddenly, my two brothers and I were running around alone. My mother would get nervous and bark angrily at us to keep us from straying too far. I, as I was always the last one "home," would be the target of my very angry mother's bites and barks.

  As the days passed, the three little brothers and sisters were beginning to grow. My mother did everything for us, and we never lacked food or clean water.

      Everything seemed fine; we were very happy, and perhaps we didn't even realize it. We grew up peacefully despite our poor life.

One bad day, however, some men arrived who seemed very angry. They roughly grabbed my mother by the neck and threw her into the back of a white pickup truck. My brothers and I were very scared. We didn't understand what was happening. We tried to escape, but the men were very angry and wanted to take us somewhere.

I managed to hide under some rocks and stayed there for hours. When I finally came out of my hiding place, I couldn't see my brothers or my mother anymore. The men in the white pickup truck had taken them.

I didn't want to stay there. I didn't feel safe.

 I managed to squeeze through some barbed wire surrounding the property and ended up on the noisy avenue that had always intrigued me so much.

*

I walked nervously through the noisy streets, filled with aggressive cars. People looked at me, surprised that I was so alone and free on the street. They talked to me, called me as if they'd known me before. A young man in rubber shoes made many gestures, spoke to me as if I were completely stupid, and held his onion-scented hands close to my nose. Then he tried to grab me, but I ran as fast as I could and ducked into a flower bed near the corner of the large, noisy avenue.

Almost at the corner of the planter box, next to a large, dry tree, was the enormous tire that would be my home for the next few days. It was like those big truck tires; it smelled a little old, and it was already so worn that large holes had formed on the sides, allowing you to look through them without being seen. It was the ideal hiding place. My two brothers, me, and probably my mom would have easily fit inside.

I felt like crying when I thought of them, but I quickly held them back because I had other worries to deal with instead of being sad. I was hungry, thirsty, and cold. I was tired and very sleepy, but I kept my eyes wide open, alert in case things got worse.

From the holes in my tire, I spied on everyone walking down the street. I could see them, I could hear them, but above all, I could smell them with my enormous nose.

They seemed to be in a hurry.  Some smelled like mint and made tick-tock-tock-tock noises. Others smelled like butter and made flip-flop-flip-flop sounds. There were some that were tiki-tiki-tiki-ing and smelled like the perfume of lemons and oranges. The ones that made me most nervous were those who smelled like pure sour sweat and ran very fast as if someone was chasing them.

Most of these walkers scared me. Some were elegant, sad, worried, or in a very bad mood. I watched them, I could tell if they had good or bad intentions. From then on, I learned to distinguish between those who were trustworthy humans and those who were definitely evil and willing to do anything to catch me and trap me. I lived in fear, always awake, alert, and couldn't afford to be unprepared in a cruel world full of dangers.

 And unfortunately, I wasn't wrong, because one bad morning, suddenly, a shiny plastic ball rolled right into the middle of the yard where my tire was, and soon after, two children jumped into my tiny yard and, upon grabbing their ball, discovered me, even though I tried hard to make myself small and invisible inside my hiding place.

*

For a while, my thirst, my hunger, and my fear were solved. The two children liked me because they took me to a huge, old house. They gave me water, milk, crackers, ham, and canned soup. They took me upstairs and put me in a dirty room full of old things. They locked me in a large plastic cage with a metal-grid door and a handle at the top. It was like a large suitcase, and inside were old blankets that smelled of cat urine.

Despite having imprisoned me, the children were very affectionate with me when they let me out.  They held me with such trust and kept petting me and talking to me softly, very softly. They looked me straight in the eyes and smiled at me as if they were in love. I tried to bite them, but they continued being affectionate and sang to me, hugged me, smiled at me, kissed me, and wouldn't leave me alone. Whenever they decided to, they would open the door of my cage and take me out to feed me. They gave me cheese, tortillas, eggs, beans, oatmeal... They gave me so much food that I thought they were trying to fatten me up and then eat me.

They spent most of their time downstairs in the house, where they never sat still. They talked loudly and played with their ball, chased each other, or jumped on the beds and couches. When they came to check on me, they would try to pick me up again, kiss me, and pet me. They continued talking to me in their high-pitched voices, speaking softly to me, and calling me many names.  They called me Doll, Laika, Lala, Candy, Frufrú. I didn't like their names, and I didn't like the constant attempts by those two chubby children to grab me, carry me, and pet me. I was terrified that they were going to eat me, and I became even more afraid when a very tall, loud woman arrived and began scolding the children. The grumpy woman "couldn't believe her children's unforgivable behavior." She said many terrible things in a very short time: "She had completely lost trust in them," "they had shamelessly deceived her," "they would undoubtedly receive an exemplary punishment," "their father was going to find out," "they were irresponsible because they exposed everyone in that house to terrible diseases, nauseating plagues, lice, fleas, scabies, and, in short, a host of calamities and filth" ... and many more words that I don't remember now but that surely ended in "ades."  In short: she asked them to get rid of me immediately. “I was nothing but a pile of dirt and responsibilities, no one was going to take care of me when I stopped being a novelty, when the irresponsible kids went to school and left all the work and problems to her,” she told the screaming woman who threatened to kick me out.

*

The chubby kids took me to a gigantic park in the middle of the city's main avenues. They put me in a cage that smelled of cat urine, but fortunately they removed the door and also left me a large bag full of kibble and water. They cried a lot; they told me, "Please take care of yourself." They were very sad, but they left.

*

I got into my cage, and from the first seconds I knew something wasn't right. I felt watched, but there was nothing but trees, wet ground, and more wet ground. It was a place almost hidden in the middle of the park. I felt watched again, and I wasn't wrong: a huge, furry, gray cat stared at me as if it were going to eat me. I growled at the top of my lungs. I thought, foolishly, that it would run away from my powerful attack, but I couldn't scare it away. It approached my house and continued watching me with increasing intensity.  I was sure the evil cat wanted to take my cage, or eat my kibble.

I became very nervous, trembling with fear but also with rage that it was trying to take away my few possessions.

I somehow found a lot of strength and lunged at it, kicking and biting it. From the depths of my little body, I barked at it like I'd never barked before, with a vigorous sound, the most powerful on earth and beyond. That's what I thought then.

The evil cat also attacked me, biting and scratching me. The fight was intense, but it lasted much less than what I was reliving in my head afterward. The truth is, I won. I was able to defend myself and my home.

I never heard anything about the evil cat. The last thing I remember is that it ran away, jumped up a tree, and disappeared. I never saw it again.

*

Many days passed.  The kibble had been gone for a while. I was hungry and cold. I wasn't thirsty because it was the rainy season, and I could drink the water trapped in the puddles. My hunger never went away, but at least I could eat one or two worms that remained in the ground when it rained hard.

My cage was still my hiding place. The chubby children chose a good spot because no one passed by. I think the wet ground scared everyone away. People passed by far away, where there wasn't any mud, where everything was dry. They went alone or accompanied by little dogs like me. They were held by the neck on chains or leashes from which they couldn't escape. Some of those little dogs noticed my presence because they started barking. Their humans scolded them. I hoped one of them would break free from their chains and come see me. That never happened.

*

Unfortunately, my good luck didn't last long, because one bad day, a large, feisty dog arrived who would ruin my life and even part of my ear. He growled at me as I was savoring a pork chop bone. He tried to take it away from me with his menacing, devilish eyes. He growled at me as if he were going to devour me, bone and all. Finally, when I ignored him, he began to speak to me, to my surprise, in a calm and even elegant manner. He invited me to stay away from his trash cans, because they were his trash cans, even though he hadn't been around for the past few days, having returned after being busy with all sorts of adventures. Suddenly changing his attitude again, he became rude and violent again. He yelled at me to get out of here and not to even think about coming back there again.

Very bad, everything after that moment went very wrong for me.  I started growling at the big dog, and I faced him, ready to give him what I thought he deserved, but he didn't growl at me anymore, or bark at me, or glare at me. He just lunged at me, in a vicious manner, and tore off a piece of my poor ear. Then, he chased me everywhere as if he were going to devour me, and I, panicking, left the park boundaries, crossed the street without looking, and that's when they hit me and left me crooked.

*

I never saw the car coming. Apparently the driver tried to avoid me because I'm still alive and can tell all this. The man who hit me felt very guilty because he paid all the vet bills. They injected me with horrible things that made me sleep for days on end, maybe weeks.  And not only was I sleeping, but amid endless hallucinations, I saw dogs and wolves trying to kill me, walkers with hands full of chains, creepy cats, and more and more terrifying and disturbing demons. As I learned later, when I regained consciousness, they bathed me, dried me, dewormed me, and of course fed me very healthy food, sometimes delicious and sometimes very dry and bland. They straightened me up, I stopped being crooked or walking sideways, they fixed two broken ribs, they stitched my bitten ear, and they operated on me so I couldn't have puppies. As I learned, I was also of an undefined breed and was seven months old, and they were going to put me up for adoption. That was if anyone was interested in me and got me out of the dog shelter where I later ended up.

*

At the shelter, they gave me a "welcome" bath. It was terrifying.  The water was cold, and the person who bathed me would be responsible for making my life miserable in the coming days. This Don Pedro, as he was called, was a very unpleasant little man. He was skinny and hunched over and had a habit of swearing when he was alone with us refugees. Don Pedro didn't care if I screamed; on the contrary, he slapped me around and called me a spoiled, flea-ridden, and ugly dog. He yelled at me horribly and insulted me, but I couldn't defend myself, couldn't refute his hateful words, couldn't prove to him that I had been bathed and dewormed, and that I was also very beautiful and friendly, as many people had already told me. Since he continued slapping me around, I stayed quiet and waited for him to finish his work. Everything was better when I went to lie down on a patio where the sun would finish drying me off.  *

There I was, after my first swim. I was shivering from the cold despite the sun. It was no use trying to shake the water off by vigorously shaking myself.

There I was, shivering and trying to dry myself with my tongue, and that's when Max arrived, a vigorous, pointy-eared dog who tried in vain to play with me. He would come up and bark at me, then run like crazy, then come back as if inviting me to chase him or something. He would nudge me with his head and make me walk a few steps. I felt better. My new, very furry friend kept encouraging me. I walked a little faster, and then, without realizing it, I started running, trying to chase the enthusiastic one who barked even louder when a high-pitched, loud sound was heard in the distance. The sound grew louder and louder. Don Pedro appeared in the yard blowing a whistle, followed by the entire pack. All the dogs in the shelter were ready for Don Pedro to throw handfuls of kibble at them, which fell everywhere. The dogs ate as if they had never eaten before. There were fights, blows, insults.  I approached a piece of kibble that fell near me, but a nasty, bald dog bared a row of teeth at me. Being very friendly, I smiled at him and walked away.

I didn't eat that day. I did drink a lot of water, though. We could drink it whenever we wanted from a water fountain that came out all the time. No one bothered you if you drank enough or were dying of thirst.

A few days after arriving at the shelter, Don Pedro left us all in the yard, and there I made great friends and some enemies. It was like a doggy party. We all sniffed each other and introduced ourselves almost nonstop, as if there was nothing else in life but to go with one doggy friend and later with another. We chased each other and sometimes bit each other's butts, we sniffed each other, got angry, and then barked intensely.

A long, dark dog, like a sausage, took possession of a small ball that several of us were playing with. The dachshund was very selfish and wanted to keep it all to himself. Max, who didn't like injustice, cornered him in a corner of the yard and growled so fiercely that the sausage dropped the ball, and it immediately landed in the snout of a long-tailed dog, then in the hands of a chubby, young dog, and then, well, it was my turn. I ran off with the ball, but I had to deal with the bald, sullen dog again, who showed me his fearsome row of teeth. I didn't hand it over; I let it go so someone else could grab it, and it was my friend Max who immediately took it in his powerful jaws and began to bite it so hard that he ended up tearing it to pieces. The bald, toothy dog was very angry; our feud had officially been declared.  He looked at me as if he were going to pounce on me, walked slowly toward me, but then, just as he was about to pounce, the little sausage-shaped dog got in front of him. He bit his neck, then flipped him upside down, mounted him as if he were a pony instead of a dog, and held him there, holding him with his little paws to subdue him, so he wouldn't growl at everyone anymore. The bald dog calmed down; he wasn't as aggressive with me or anyone else anymore. The sausage dog also warmed up; I must say I even started to like him more than I had imagined. I must also say that the bald dog with the sharp teeth was actually a female dog. We made up by sniffing each other's rear ends. Then we sniffed each other's snouts, and so, in a simple way, we said goodbye and went our separate ways.

Many hours passed, and it seemed as if Don Pedro had forgotten to put us back in our cages.  We had grown tired of playing so much, we all felt like sleeping or, if not, licking our respective paws or trying to get rid of the unbearable flies and mosquitoes that always came to bother us when we were about to sleep.

Nights were difficult for me, because I was always scared stiff. I stayed awake as long as possible, but eventually sleep overcame me. Sometimes I pretended to be awake; I was surprised at how well I could hide my alertness. I was the great pretender, a great actress, a fearsome wolf. The truth was, I was fast asleep, sitting up with my eyes open, like a small statue, so everyone would think I was ready to defend myself.

*

Hunger made me leave my comfort zone. I walked as quickly as I could to two enormous trash cans, where many cats and some birds were approaching. Both cans were very full and overflowing with cans, cups, and leftover food. Since I was tiny, I couldn't even jump and reach a banana peel. Sometimes someone with poor aim would throw a bitten apple or even an unfinished hot dog near the cans.  Once I was lucky because a child threw away his lunch, and I was able to eat a hard-boiled egg, an apple, and a whole ham sandwich.

Passersby in the park continued to throw lots of food into the trash cans. Sometimes I managed to eat an entire vanilla ice cream cone and even a slice of pizza, if I left.

It seemed incredible, but the twenty-five of us had managed to remain silent. Don Pedro didn't show up, and the truth is, no one missed him. We spent the night outside our cages; some continued playing, others, frankly, did nothing but lie down on their backs and choose the best place to be cozy. Silence fell over that patio where the dogs fell fast asleep.

*

Morning came, but it wasn't sunlight that woke us, but the sharp whistle of an unrecognizable and charming Don Pedro, very combed, bathed, and wearing clean clothes.

 We doubted it was the same Don Pedro because he cleaned the yard without swearing, called us all by name, and didn't scold anyone for pooping and peeing where they shouldn't.

No one could believe it; it was a new Don Pedro who worked with gusto, using the hose to clean the yard, not to mercilessly bathe us. He spoke to us pleasantly and didn't try to hit us with the broom.

Still, he couldn't get any of us to approach him or look at him differently. He had earned our distrust, and so we remained alert, always waiting from a distance, in case it was a trap.

To our surprise, the new Don Pedro seemed willing to be affectionate with us. He smiled at us and even sang to us in a voice that tried to be pleasant, but which, frankly, sounded more like a bellow than a human voice.

 He lined up some metal plates I'd never seen before, served us our croquettes on each one, and was very careful to make sure no one went without.

Well, that was the new Don Pedro. He let us stay in the yard the whole time and continued cleaning and treating us well. We liked the new approach, but, honestly, we suspected something was up. Max and I exchanged very knowing glances. The sausage, who had declared himself the leader of the pack, was pacing back and forth, barking at us, as if trying to warn us of some danger.

After he'd cleaned the yard, Don Pedro left us speechless and half-terrified when he began brushing and petting us. He started with Max, I suppose because of his long, thick fur. We all approached this strange scene and expressed ourselves in a variety of ways, with howls, whines, or outright barks.  None of us wanted to be next in the hands of our sinister caretaker. We were used to being hosed down, and the idea of having our hair combed seemed unbelievable.

The bell rang for visitors. Maybe one of us was going to a better life—I mean, to be adopted by a happy and generous family. At least that's what I thought, but I was completely wrong.

A radiant young woman, smelling of soap and fresh lettuce, arrived at the shelter's courtyard. She wore white shoes with rubber soles and spoke very kindly and confidently. "Miss Mia," this Don Pedro called her. "You can see that what you've been told about me is a lie. All the boys have received the best treatment, I've cared for them all with equal love and care, and I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

"Yes, yes... that's what you say, but I have other information." That's what Miss Mia replied, not looking kindly at the crestfallen and guilty little man. "Well, the reason for my visit also has other matters." And the other matter, I couldn't believe it, was none other than myself. She asked about me. She asked about "the new dog." She was very worried about me because not long ago I'd been run over by a car, and someone had reported mistreatment and lack of attention not only to me but to all the dogs at the shelter.

 Don Pedro didn't know how it was possible that someone could speak ill of his work, when he gave his entire life to lovingly care for and look after the twenty-five dogs and...

...And after telling all kinds of lies, he fell silent when he saw the very serious Miss Mia. She explained that his actions could make him lose his job. She let him know that she was aware of his behavior and that if he didn't change his way of running the shelter, he would have to face the consequences.

While they talked, my friend Max and I talked about all kinds of gossipy neighbors who were always there, people who looked in through windows and talked on the phone, took photos, recorded... Max told me about hidden cameras and extraordinary things that would put Don Pedro in his place.

In the following days, Don Pedro returned to his usual grumpy self, but with the added benefit of being the one he really had to do things right.  The reason for the change, and the very good news, was that Miss Mía would be coming to the shelter, but not just for a short visit, but at least two or three days a week to take good care of us.

Life hadn't been very kind to me, but things went very well with Mía. At that time, I still didn't have a name, although I'd already been called many things. Mía, then, named me "Lunita." She called me that because I had two beautiful moles on my tummy and a beautiful black mole under my doggy snout.

So, Lunita, I stayed. I was very happy and thought about living full-time at the shelter with my dear and beloved Mía, but she explained to us that she couldn't adopt us herself. She would talk to us for hours, telling us that her mission with the shelter was to find us a home, good humans, and a life and a future where we would be happy. She couldn't take care of every one of us, even if she wanted to.  That's what he always told us, and the truth is that every day more homeless friends like me arrived, and there were fewer and fewer people who wanted to adopt us. Not me, at least.

Visitors had "a specific day and time" to come see us. This is what Mia explained to Don Pedro, who pretended he understood and would leave us all clean and combed, and the entire shelter would be ready and tidy.

On Sunday mornings, potential new parents would pass by our kennels with slightly fake smiles. They wanted a dog that was spayed, dewormed, not too litter-ridden, not too sociable, not too big, not too small, hairless, completely mute, that wouldn't pee where it shouldn't, wouldn't destroy things, wouldn't need much attention, and, if possible, that they would never have to take outside.

.

Mía was very kind despite so many demands, explaining that "all dogs could receive a good education," "love is born from sight," "there is no ugly dog," "all are beautiful if you manage to love them as unique dogs" ... and if they liked any of us, they could try keeping us for at least a week and then they would know if they could get a good adoption or not.

The visitors raised their eyebrows. They remained silent for a few seconds and examined the candidates with some discomfort, and I would say even disgust.

Mía told them how we were all sterilized, vaccinated, dewormed, and many words that ended in "ado." She explained that we were not stuffed toys, nor Christmas gifts, nor a surrogate child. Of course, we were a lifelong responsibility, and that's why new adopters had to sign commitment papers agreeing to be monitored for a long time.

 One day, a couple interrupted Mía and, with a frank attitude of feeling like they were the big shots, asked her if all the dogs at that shelter were so…

And they didn't continue… after the “so what?” Mía confronted them: “So what… And when they said, so ordinary, we're looking for a purebred dog, not dogs so…” And they pointed at me. They said, “So like that one, the one with the wrinkled ear,” and I was petrified and confused because in addition to pointing at me, they treated me as if I were a male dog.

Mía, always kind, told them my story, about how I had been run over and then recovered, and how I had responded well to treatment and…

They didn't let her finish. The applicants asked if she had a dog like Max, a white dog with a wolfish face, but a puppy, or at most a year old, but not three like my friend. Or if they had any Belgian or German or English shepherds or…

Mía lost her patience.  She gave them a quick invitation to leave and asked them not to ask for dogs for adoption again, neither there nor at any other shelter. She told them many things. She ended by telling them that there were people who weren't qualified to own a dog, nor to care for one, much less to love one. Surely if they continued with their foolishness and got a puppy, they would end up leaving it on the street. It was better for them not to go near any shelter again because they would regret it. The two visitors, a very well-groomed young couple, stared at her in terror and then left.

Mía continued talking loudly, staring at me especially, because I was the one who had received the most insults. She said that if the very confused visitors really wanted to adopt a dog, they should buy a stuffed animal, and even then they would end up leaving it abandoned in a basement. I was very angry. She spoke to me very nicely.  She complimented my caramel eyes, which looked lovingly at her, told me I had black eyebrows like an Egyptian sculpture, and made me feel better when she told me I was older now and very beautiful and very… She suddenly fell silent and continued petting me silently, her eyes filled with tears.

*

Days, months, and then a whole year passed. Many of my friends and acquaintances had already left. Max was on the verge of leaving once, but they brought him back “because he had eaten a chair.” I wasn't having much luck either. They promoted me on I don't know what social media, and Max knew absolutely everything about it. Mia took lots of pictures of me, made me look really pretty, she said, put a pink bow on my head, made me sit very still, and told me I looked beautiful and that surely someone would adopt me now. She smiled at me with supposed joy, but I realized that other dog friends were managing to find new parents, but not me.

 *

Three years have passed. My friend Max and I are happily lying belly up in our respective little beds. Our new house is big and always sunny. We have two large yards and a rooftop terrace we can go to whenever we want. Our house is Mia's house. She loved us so much that she decided to stay with us, "not only because no one else was willing to adopt us" but "because we always felt like sticking together, as if we were siblings despite being so different." Max and I have a great time; we walk down the street together with Mia. From time to time, she takes us for walks to a beautiful and well-kept park, lets us off our leashes in a space specially dedicated to dogs, and watches over us the whole time we spend jumping, playing, meeting new dog friends, and running quickly to catch a red ball, a ball that, by the way, always ends up between the sharp teeth of my very good friend Max.

*