Antics and Delusions
4 Short Plays About Not-So-Stable People
By Gavarre Benjamin
© BENJAMIN GAVARRE SILVA
BENGAVARRE@GMAIL.COM
Synopsis
Play I: The Duck Court
An ordinary living room in the big city turns into an imaginary zoo when a father comes home from work with a little surprise. Convinced that his kids are insolent ducks and his wife is a dangerous giant goose, he unleashes a chase that forces his family to make a choice: try to calm him down or dive headfirst with him into the freezing waters of the South Pole. An absurd comedy about patience, family love, and the paradoxical perks of shipwrecking together.
Play II: Ben and Neverland
In a small studio, two young musicians face an extreme generational clash with Ben, a 56-year-old man who is absolutely convinced he is 19. Amid arguments over old versus new slang and modern tools, reality cruelly leaks through a laptop webcam. A piece that explores the fear of aging, the mind's defense mechanisms, and the tender friendship that youth can give without asking for anything in return.
Play III: Marcelino Was Wrong, He Kept Being Wrong
A sunny park becomes the stage for the constant mix-ups of Marcelino, a pleasant man who changes the names and shapes of reality. A piece about the fragility of memory, the dignity of being different, and the beauty of an environment that chooses to smile and embrace rather than judge.
Play IV: The Fascinating Guitarist with the Tics
An everyday subway commute crosses paths with a very peculiar character named Ray, a young musician plagued by uncontrollable tics that trigger the worst reactions from the crowd. However, despite the fear, order is restored when Ray begins to play his guitar. Ray the artist manages to instantly connect with the passengers through the wonder of music and rhythm. Music has the power to soothe the savage beast—and a few humans too.
Play I: The Duck Court
Characters: DAD (45), MOM (40), TITO (9), GABO (8).
Setting: The living room of an apartment in a major metropolitan city. TITO and GABO are happily jumping on the couches. DAD enters holding a briefcase; he freezes, stares at them with absolute intensity, blinks in bewilderment, and tries to calm them down.
DAD
Quack! Quack! Seriously?! What are these two little ducklings doing on top of the sofa? My dear Ducks, get off the couches right now! You're gonna get feathers everywhere! Quack!
TITO
(To Gabo, jumping with excitement)
He says we're ducks! Quack, quack, I'm a duck, I'm a duck, quack quack, squeak squeak!
GABO
Squeak squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK!
DAD
(Indignant, waving his arms)
Oh, so you think you can insult your father? You rude ducks!... Impudent! Off to the pond right this second, come on, or tonight I'm having Duck à l'Orange!
MOM enters wearing a kitchen apron. DAD whips around toward her, his eyes widening at the imposing figure of his wife. He takes a terrified step back, shielding himself with his briefcase.
DAD
By Jupiter and Saturn, a giant GOOSE! Mother of God! Holy heavens! She's massive, territorial, and out for blood! Quack! Watch out, kids, run! She wants to peck us!
THE TWO BOYS
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, QUACK, QUACK!!!
MOM
(With hands on hips, glaring at him, but playing along)
A giant goose? Well, at least you didn't call me fat! Kids, let's get him! Let's peck Papa Duck! Stop right there, you Evil Duck!
The children lunges at their father, making frantic "quack, squeak!" noises. DAD runs terrified around the table, trips awkwardly over the rug, and falls hard on his back, hitting his head against the floor with a dull thud. Sudden silence. He slowly sits up, rubbing his forehead. His wild gaze clears up, and his lucidity returns.
DAD
(Groaning in real pain)
Ouch, my head!... Man, what is wrong with you guys? Why the heck were you chasing me? It's not funny, you know! I almost broke my neck and my spine!
TITO
(Approaches tenderly, sitting on the floor next to him and patting his knee)
Aw, Dad... this time we were ducks. Don't be mad. Sometimes you mistake us for monkeys and make us eat bananas.
GABO
Yeah, Dad. We like being ducks, but... what if we're wolves, or what if we're rats... we're gonna bite you!
TITO
(With a sweet but warning childish tone)
And if you ever see Mom as a Rhino, she's definitely going to crush you, Pop.
DAD hugs his children, scared but touched, looking askance at his wife. She sighs with deep resignation, approaches, and hands him an ice pack for the bump. DAD takes the ice pack, blinks three times, disoriented, and looks at his wife in awe.
DAD
(Moved)
Oh, thank you, my beautiful whale! You always save us.
MOM
(Stepping back, offended)
A whale?! Hey! I swear I am not fat!
DAD
(Ignoring her, he leaps onto the couch and points forward with his briefcase)
No time for arguments! By the gods, I see an iceberg ahead, we're going to crash! (He points to the ice pack he left on the table). The ship is sinking! Kids, my brave sharks... we must jump into the freezing waters!
GABO and TITO
(Excited, climbing onto the couch with him)
Every man for himself! On three! One, two... three!
The three of them take a giant leap from the couch and land "swimming" on the rug.
DAD
(Face down on the rug, kicking desperately)
Ah, what a great jump!... (Dramatic) Hey, I don't know how to swim! Help, help! I don't know how to swim because I'm a camel! Help, help! Heeeeeelp!
The kids start "rescuing" him by dragging him by his feet while DAD spits out imaginary water.
MOM
(Puts her hands to her head, looking at the ceiling)
God grant me patience... Why can't I turn into a frog, an iguana, a walrus, whyyyyy?
(Quick Blackout)
Play II: Ben and Neverland
Characters: BEN (56), CHINO (23), CHEPO (24), AI VOICE (Off-stage).
Setting: A room where the guys rehearse. Drums, cymbals, cables everywhere, and an open laptop on a table. CHINO and CHEPO are setting up their gear while talking. BEN examines a heavy bronze cowbell with youthful curiosity.
CHINO
(Continuing an ongoing conversation...)
...No, dude... you're wrong. His car isn't a piece of junk. It's old, but they tuned it up so sweet, and it turned out... you have no idea. The AI did its magic.
BEN
(Setting down the cowbell, smiling with youthful gestures)
Ah... I know all about "dudes"... back in the Golden Age, they were called knaves or scoundrels. "Halt, thou knave!"
CHEPO
(Laughing, sharing a look with Chino)
What are you talking about, Ben? You're trippin', man. "Dude" is just a guy, but when we talk about being "horny"... well, locked and loaded, if you know what I mean.
BEN
Oh, like feeling eager!... Hot, right? I know about that!... Hey, and what is this "tuned up" business? Is it like tuning the radio?
CHINO
Radio? Who listens to the radio? That's so boomer. Nobody I know listens to the radio!
BEN
(Proudly, raising his eyebrows)
Well, you know me, don't you? And I... I like FM frequency. I always listen to the latest hits from the eighties and nineties. The absolute cutting edge.
CHEPO
(With a playful wink)
Ah, funny, Chepo. The next millennium is a long way off. Are you living in the future or what? And what is this "AI" thing anyway?
CHINO
Artificial Intelligence, man, how do you not know? Look, it's right here on our laptop. The webcam screen is about to turn on.
BEN approaches the laptop with curiosity. The screen suddenly lights up, showing the webcam feed. BEN takes a horrified step back, touching his face.
BEN
Yikes! Who is that wrinkled old man?... What? It's hideous!
CHEPO
(Worried by the reaction, addresses the laptop directly)
Hey, you... AI... Who is the man on the screen?
AI VOICE
(Firm, neutral, digital, and impersonal)
The man on the screen is named Ben. His mind is like a movie with many deleted scenes. He imagines his brain is a video player that got stuck exactly at the nineteen-minute mark. He does not know that time moved on outside.
The words of the artificial intelligence hit Ben's face like a physical blow. His eyes wide open with the horror of an unbearable truth. His shoulders slump. He walks very slowly toward the darkest corner of the room and sits on the floor, hugging his knees tightly.
AI VOICE
When he sees his reflection, the video unfreezes for a second, and it hurts him to discover the years he lost. But do not worry. This is only a temporary system glitch. Very soon, his mind will protect him again. Tomorrow, upon waking, the player will return to the nineteen-minute mark, and he will be the same cheerful young man as always.
CHINO and CHEPO set down their drumsticks in silence. They look at each other with deep sadness, but also with relief at the AI's words. Gently, they approach the dark corner and sit on the floor on either side of Ben. Chino places an arm around his shoulders, comforting him in his silence, while Chepo gives him a reassuring pat on the knee.
(Blackout)
Play III: Marcelino Was Wrong, He Kept Being Wrong
Characters: ARTHUR (35), MARCELINO (40), THE BUTCHER / PSYCHIATRIST (55), THE MOTHER (75).
Setting: A bright, tree-lined park with benches (resembling Central Park). Passersby are reading or resting. The atmosphere is warm, relaxed, and peaceful.
MARCELINO spins around in circles in an odd way, as if looking for North. Nobody is frightened; the passersby look at him with an accustomed smile. He finishes his turn and approaches a MAN reading a newspaper with overflowing enthusiasm.
MARCELINO
Arthur! What a huge pleasure to see you again. We met in college, remember? All those annoying theoretical classes we took... What we both really loved was acting or dance, not that boring history of theater. The Greeks, the Middle Ages! What a drag!
ARTHUR
(Uncomfortable but polite, lowering his newspaper)
Excuse me, sir, you have the wrong person. My name isn't Arthur... Well, actually, it is Arthur, but I studied Law. I'm an attorney. And I don't have any clients, so imagine if I had studied dance.
MARCELINO
Ah, so you're a lawyer! Do you know what happens when a lawyer takes Viagra?
ARTHUR
No, what?
MARCELINO
He grows and grows and grows! And then he bursts! (He bursts into laughter, all by himself. Arthur smiles, caught up in it). Just a little joke, my friend. I bet you know all about Sophocles. The tragedies... Oedipus... and...
ARTHUR
No, buddy. The only Greek tragedy I know is my bank account balance. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go find some clients... Or practice a dance step, just in case. (Gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder and exits cheerfully).
The park lighting changes abruptly to magenta and neon green tones, creating a surreal atmosphere. The passersby transform: they put on neutral masks or move in a choreographed, robotic manner. MARCELINO paces the space from one side to the other with a magnetic agitation, reacting with absolute fascination to events invisible to the audience.
MARCELINO
(Pointing with horror into the empty space)
No way! That car almost ran over that little old lady... Are you okay, ma'am?... Sure... Just a good scare!
A SURLY PASSERBY with a heavy walk crosses the stage. Marcelino steps right behind him and mimics him exaggeratedly, emphasizing his heavy steps and sour face.
MARCELINO
Look at you, Mr. Grumpy, walking down the street with that bitter face... Oh! And be very careful because a piano is about to drop on you... (Looks up, covers his ears, and makes an explosion sound with his mouth). The piano! The piano fell right on his head! Oh well... he had it coming for being so unpleasant.
A YOUNG COUPLE walks nearby. Marcelino interposes himself between them, interrupting their path.
MARCELINO
What are you looking at, boyfriend? You think I'm checking out your girl? You're wrong... I'm just thinking that she's about to get swarmed by bees... Run, run, friends! The killer bees are here! Run for your lives! (The couple walks away bewildered. Marcelino waves his arms fending off invisible insects). Hey, where did you guys go?... And the bees?... Where are the bees?
The movement around him stops dead. The ensemble of passersby freezes in stylized positions. Marcelino stands motionless in the center of the stage, meditating in silence and slowly spinning in circles on his own axis.
VOICE OVER
(A deep, warm, and measured voice)
Marcelino stands there meditating for a while, pacing in circles. He knows very well that everything that happened... happened solely inside his head.
MARCELINO
(Stopping, looking at his hands and then at the audience with genuine existential confusion)
Of course it all happened in my head. But if it happened in my head, why did it happen out here on the street too?
The surreal lighting disappears with a drum hit, and the bright, warm white light of the summer afternoon returns. The rhythm of light percussion resumes. THE BUTCHER arrives to sit down, taking off a clean apron. Marcelino snaps out of his trance, shakes his head, and looks at him with excessive solemnity.
MARCELINO
If there's one thing I am passionate and concerned about, it's the welfare of the animal kingdom... Hey, you, the man in the apron. It should bring you pride and, at the same time, a tremendous responsibility to be the guardian of the steaks. It's a shame the cows don't appreciate your trade.
BUTCHER
(Surprised but amused)
The guardian of the steaks? Look, chief, I don't argue with anyone's tastes. To each his own stomach. But if you want a piece of life advice, a good pepper steak cures all sorrows.
The Butcher puts on a pair of reading glasses and pulls out a notepad, seamlessly transforming into THE PSYCHIATRIST. The light focuses. Marcelino, tired from so much mental activity, lies back on the park bench as if it were a couch, rubbing his temples with exaggerated theatricality.
MARCELINO
Doctor Freud... how good of you to come to the park. You know, I close my eyes for a second and the channel changes in my mental TV. I don't know where I am anymore. Well, I think I do know, but the world moves faster than my conclusions.
PSYCHIATRIST
(Writing with a measured, good-natured tone)
Let's see, my dear Marcelino. Yours is not a problem; it's an excess of imagination. You don't confuse reality; you just give different names and shapes to people. What you need is not a hospital, but a good couple of minutes to breathe the park air.
MARCELINO
(Sighing, relieved)
That sounds very nice... "Power to the imagination," someone used to say.
DR. FREUD / BUTCHER
Reality can be very, very boring. People like you give it a little style. Stay here, rest, and breathe.
The Psychiatrist winks and leaves, whistling a light tune. The general lights of the park dim softly to a sunset tone. A warm, diffuse, golden light—as if pulled from an old memory—lights up in front of Marcelino's bench. From that light emerges THE MOTHER. She wears elegant clothes from another era and walks with an almost incorporeal lightness. Marcelino stares at her with the expression of a little child who has finally found refuge.
MARCELINO
Mom! Are we out of school yet? I forgot where I left my backpack... And the kids in class say I play backward. Mom... what about Dad? Why did he take so long to come today?
THE MOTHER approaches slowly. The PASSERSBY in the park look toward Marcelino; to them, the bench is empty and he is talking to the air, but far from mocking or being scared, they look at each other and smile with infinite tenderness, respecting his intimate moment. The Mother sits beside him and strokes his hair with a sweetness that transcends time.
THE MOTHER
(With a sweet voice and a comforting smile)
Oh, my love. Remember. Dad went ahead of us many years ago. He went to open a branch office up in heaven because his jokes didn't fit down here anymore.
MARCELINO
(With wide eyes, absorbing the information without pain, hugging the air tightly as she wraps her arms around him)
He left?... Is the weather nice up there?
THE MOTHER
The best weather in the world, my heaven. And he is waiting for us with enormous patience. But in the meantime, you have to finish your walk in this park, which is beautiful today. Will you walk with me for a little bit?
MARCELINO
(Smiling with overflowing enthusiasm, standing up)
Of course, Mom. But walk straight... like Arthur the lawyer, the one who danced with the Greeks.
Marcelino extends his arm, locking it perfectly with his mother's arm. He begins to walk slowly and happily under the trees. The Mother walks by his side, smiling at him, until she crosses the boundary of her beam of light and softly disappears. Marcelino continues his march alone, but remarkably relieved and at peace. The passersby watch him pass and nod their heads, smiling with sympathy and warmth. The golden light fades slowly until the final dark.
[END OF THE PLAY]
Play IV: The Fascinating Guitarist of the Subway
Characters: RAY (28), MARGARITA (45), NÉSTOR (70), THE CHORUS (Various Passengers).
Setting: The interior of a moving New York City subway car. The characteristic, hypnotic metallic rattling over the tracks echoes through the space.
RAY enters the car a bit agitated, stumbling slightly. He plops down heavily onto one of the priority seats underneath a worn, half-graffitied transit sign. MARGARITA looks him up and down with disdain and elbows NÉSTOR.
MARGARITA
Look at him... Healthy, young, strong, and in perfect shape. And he blatantly sits right in the reserved seat. Talk about a total lack of basic manners. Seriously.
NÉSTOR
(Nodding with a bitter grimace)
Today's youth is totally lost. They don't respect anything anymore. Not the elderly, not pregnant women... It's like the rest of us citizens are completely invisible.
MARGARITA
(Adjusting her grocery bags)
Oh, I'm not expecting, thank God. Sad to say, this is just belly fat.
Suddenly and without warning, RAY suffers a sharp, violent episode of uncontrollable tics. His entire body tenses up like a guitar string. He lets out a piercing, high-pitched screech while his right arm jerks spasmodically toward the ceiling of the car.
RAY
(Shouting mid-spasm, rhythmically hitting the metallic wall of the train with his hand)
Oh, my God, it's here, it's happening again, no please, make it pass quick.
The entire subway car instantly freezes out of pure fear. MARGARITA tightly grabs her bags and dashes to the opposite end of the car. NÉSTOR seeks shelter behind a metal handrail. The rest of the passengers scatter, leaving RAY completely isolated.
PASSENGER 1
He's crazy!
PASSENGER 2
He's having a seizure!
PASSENGER 3
He's gonna mug us!
MARGARITA
Somebody pull the emergency brake! Call the cops!
The train rattles on. RAY's episode of tics suddenly stops. The passengers stare at him, uneasy. He takes a deep breath, adjusts his guitar strap, and looks at them with a serene, bright smile.
RAY
I sincerely apologize that you had to witness my very ill-timed and loud tics. But well... that's just the way the cookie crumbles. At the end of the day, you have to accept and love who you are. And I am this... and this too!
RAY smiles mischievously, strikes a powerful, masterful first chord on his guitar, and begins to play with overflowing joy. The atmosphere in the subway car lights up. The passengers look at him, still cautious, but visibly magnetized by his charisma. RAY strums the guitar strings with undeniable virtuosity. He stomps his heel firmly against the metal floor of the subway to mark a fast, energetic tempo. He begins to sing a beautiful, rhythmic folk melody: a vibrant, upbeat, and joyful version of "Bella Ciao". The sound floods the entire car, drowning out the grey, industrial noise of the train. As he sings, the rhythm becomes irresistibly catchy. RAY moves with natural grace. NÉSTOR unconsciously starts tapping his foot to the music. MARGARITA cracks a shy smile, loosening the grip on her bags. RAY wraps up the piece with a nearly impossible, clean, and brilliant guitar solo. The song ends. The car falls into a second of breathless silence... and suddenly, unanimous applause and cheers erupt.
PASSENGER 1
Man, you're a genius!
PASSENGER 2
Wow, that was amazing!
NÉSTOR
(Applauding enthusiastically)
Bravo! Bravissimo! That's playing with soul, son! Forget the reserved seat, you've earned it a hundred times over!
MARGARITA
(Smiling broadly while digging into her purse)
What a talent! Wonderful, you just made this commute so much better.
RAY passes his hat around and collects coins with gratitude. He makes another deep bow like a happy, blissful jester, acknowledging the collective warmth with his right hand over his heart: fully integrated into the human fabric, free of tics, and undisputed master of the subway car thanks to the healing miracle of his music. The subway lights begin to flicker in a festive manner as the sound of the guitar blends into a joyful, upbeat musical theme that echoes through all four stories.
[FINAL CURTAIN FOR ALL FOUR PLAYS]
