Scrolling Through the Neighborhood
(A
comic and absurd farce in one act)
By
Benjamin Gavarre
Scrolling Through the Neighborhood © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
Silver Lake, Los Angeles
CHARACTERS:
- MARTIN (32): Hyper-connected, neurotic, internet hypochondriac. Trapped
entirely behind the screen of his phone.
- ANDRÉS (62): His partner. Retired, serene, ironic, and contemplative. His main
social network is the window and the apartment.
SETTING:
A
spacious, airy second-floor apartment in Silver Lake, Los Angeles.
Upstage, a large picture window looks out onto the street, framed with light
linen curtains. To one side, a modern sofa. In the corner, a ceramic bowl with
water and organic dog kibble. A kitchen island or side table holds plates,
mugs, and half-eaten snacks.
[BEGIN
PLAY]
(The
scene opens with MARTIN sprawled across the sofa in an impossible,
pretzel-like posture, the screen of his phone casting a harsh blue glow across
his face. He is scrolling compulsively. ANDRÉS enters from the kitchen
carrying a mug of artisanal pour-over coffee in one hand and a plate of sliced
honeycrisp apples. He wears fleece slippers and a comfortable bathrobe.)
MARTIN
(Without
lifting his eyes from the screen)
Unbelievable.
People in Montevideo are furious because their neighbors changed the name of
the Río de la Plata to the "Argentine Río de la Plata"... It’s a...
what do you call it when something is totally redundant? A…
ANDRÉS
A
pleonasm.
When
something is repeated unnecessarily or is already implied by the first term:
like "free gift" or "join together." It’s always joined
together. Argentum means silver.
MARTIN
(Seemingly
not hearing him, or perhaps just ignoring him entirely)
...That
president, that president... He’s completely unhinged. Trying to copy that MAGA
guy... Hey, what if we rename the LA River the "Pancho Villa River"?
Or the "Mexican Los Angeles River"? What do you think?
ANDRÉS
(Ignoring
him with absolute elegance. He walks to the picture window, parts the linen
curtain just an inch, and takes a sip of his coffee)
Seven
in the morning. The neighborhood organic juice delivery van is already
double-parked... Must be driven by Moonbeam, that crazy vegan yogi...
MARTIN
(Typing
with furious velocity)
And
get a load of this brilliant forum comment: "They’re just jealous of
us! It kills the other neighborhoods that we’re basically European. We arrived
on sailing ships, we weren't born from a messy, bloody colonial melting
pot..." The sheer ego of expats, ladies and gentlemen!
ANDRÉS
(Taking
another sip of coffee)
Historical
blindness. Sailboats didn’t bring a pure race; they brought a mosaic. They
forget everyone mixed together once they docked: Italians with Germans,
Spaniards with Lebanese...
MARTIN
(Still
not listening, eyes glued to the scroll)
Yeah,
well, this thread says half their country has indigenous blood running through
their veins whether they tried to whiten it out or not. They’re double-mixed!
And racist to boot, oh yes!
(ANDRÉS
sets the plate of sliced apples on the coffee table right next to MARTIN.
MARTIN automatically grabs a piece with his hand, shoves it into his mouth, and
keeps scrolling without missing a beat or saying thank you.)
ANDRÉS
(Glancing
out the window)
Look
at him. There goes the hipster down the hall with his rescue French bulldog.
Right on cue, it dropped a microscopic, artisanal Frenchie dump. And of course,
he’s not going to pick it up... Oh, wait, he just caught me watching him. (Leans
in closer) Ha! He turned bright red. Well, at least he scooped it up with a
discarded avocado leaf. Say no more: victory is mine.
MARTIN
(Yelling
at his phone)
Ugh,
gross! I am so sick of these toxic commenters!
(Quick
transition)
Hey,
did you see they arrested Dua Lipa again? Or was it Madonna?
ANDRÉS
(Walks
over to the dog bowls, fills them with organic kibble using a small wooden
scoop)
Attention,
gentlemen, breakfast is served. (To Martin) The person who got arrested
was Sarkozy.
MARTIN
Who?...
Look, they’re paying tribute to the Queen!
ANDRÉS
Which
queen? Ever since Elizabeth died, there aren’t many left... Or well, there are,
but not quite as... iconic. The Queen of Spain? The one from Belgium? I don't
know... When Elizabeth passed away...
MARTIN
The
Queen of Hearts! I remember they wrote a song about her... super cheesy... by
some American...
ANDRÉS
(Returns
to the kitchen and brings out a small plate of jicama sprinkled with Tajín
chili powder and lime)
Vicente
Fernández? Bad Bunny? Bob Dylan? They’re all Americans—from the American
continent.
MARTIN
Bob
Dylan? No way! How could it be? The guy with the weird glasses... John
something...
ANDRÉS
Elton
John. And he didn't write a song about a queen, he just rewrote the lyrics to
an old track. Cheater, but a marketing genius. (Sets the jicama next to the
apples) Here, eat some jicama.
(MARTIN
grabs a piece of jicama and chews it mechanically. ANDRÉS paces around the
living room straightening a dish towel. MARTIN remains entirely trapped inside
his glass rectangle.)
MARTIN
(Reading
with mounting indignation)
Listen
to this: "Gen Z and Millennials have zero company loyalty anymore. They
quit their jobs after three days because it wasn't their passion or because
they feel 'exploited' for twenty-five dollars an hour."
ANDRÉS
Right.
They refuse to sell out for a bowl of organic lentils.
(MARTIN
doesn't answer; he doesn't even hear him. He performs a lightning-fast swipe
and changes posts.)
MARTIN
And
this one says thirtysomethings are completely slacking off at work, calling in
sick once a month for "mental health days," lying on their resumes,
and stealing high-end oat milk from the office fridge.
ANDRÉS
Well,
that’s a classic. I always pocketed the heavy-duty staplers, the gel pens, and
the Post-it pads. It’s an unwritten rule. It’s exactly like staying at a
boutique hotel: you’re legally obligated to take the miniature lavender soaps,
the hand lotions, and—if the zipper closes—the waffle-weave hand towel.
(MARTIN
shows zero reaction. He remains locked in his screen, babbling random words
while his finger skates across the glass. ANDRÉS stares at him, feeling utterly
ignored. He decides to test just how far his partner's digital trance goes.)
ANDRÉS
(Muttering
under his breath, "playing along"...)
Aha...
Well, it looks like the neighbor with the vintage Subaru finally realized her
car is a rusted-out junker and she’s switching to a... mhhhttffr...
MARTIN
(Absorbed,
half-hearing)
Switching
to what?
ANDRÉS
(Smirking
mischievously. Raising his voice with the gravity of a catastrophic news
anchor)
Well,
well, well: looks like Iran just finalized its nuclear stockpile. They're
wiping out the entire Northern Hemisphere by tomorrow afternoon.
MARTIN
(Without
lifting his eyes from the phone)
You
don't say... That’s pretty wild... No, wait...
ANDRÉS
And
apparently, Suriname is now the happiest nation per capita on earth... Where
the hell is Suriname?
MARTIN
(Murmuring
slowly, drowsily)
I
used to know that... Is it near the Hamptons?
ANDRÉS
(Ramping
up the absurdity)
Good
grief, there’s a deadly plague sweeping through West Hollywood. It’s wiped out
three million people in two hours. And to top it all off, a nuclear reactor
just blew up in Silver Lake.
MARTIN
(Still
scrolling, completely unperturbed)
No,
I'm telling you... That's awful.
ANDRÉS
(Delivering
the punchline with absolute, deadpan seriousness)
And
Donald Trump just held a secret summit with an alien in the Oval Garden. The
extraterrestrial was very polite: speaks four languages fluently.
MARTIN
(Blinking,
half-reacting for the first time)
Who
speaks four languages? Oh... I really should get back to my Duolingo Spanish
classes. (Glancing toward the kitchen) Say, did you make coffee?
ANDRÉS
(Exploding
in pure sarcasm)
You
are pathetic!
MARTIN
(Startled)
What?
Me? What did I do? I just asked if you made coffee, otherwise I’ll fire up the
French press... I’m getting sleepy and I need to shower fast before my remote
standup meeting.
ANDRÉS
(Walking
toward the window)
Are
you telling me that you actually work while I do nothing? Who do you
think keeps this household afloat? Why do you think food magically appears in
the Sub-Zero? Do you think sliced apples and Tajín jicama grow on the coffee
table?
MARTIN
(Jumping
up from the sofa and starting his neurotic pacing in circles around the living
room)
Oh,
don't exaggerate, Andrés! You live glued to that window—I read an article that
says it’s a psychological defense mechanism to pretend you’re still
participating in society!
ANDRÉS
(Turns
around, deeply offended)
Are
you calling me old?! You spend six hours straight watching TikTok videos of
rescue otters! If you read so much, do something productive besides
doomscrolling... Wash the dishes! Wash your own weighted blanket!
MARTIN
My
weighted blanket?! Oh, now it’s my fault! And it is not six hours! I
have to escape from reality... I work with those mutant tech bros who destroyed
the traditional publishing industry. They won't even log on without a matcha
latte, how do you expect me to survive working with them all day, huh?! I have
earned the right to decompress, and my employer doesn't let me scroll during
Zoom calls!
ANDRÉS
(Turning
back to the window)
Look
at that... A Silver Lake miracle: the city is finally towing away that Tesla
that’s been abandoned out front for two years. And it’s not even Christmas.
(At
that exact moment, the INTERCOM BUZZES with a sharp, piercing ring: BZZZZ!)
MARTIN
(Pacing
faster)
Get
that.
ANDRÉS
(Growling)
Fine,
I’ll go. Don't stop using your thumb—you know, to swipe your life away... I'm
going, I'm going.
(ANDRÉS
walks over to the intercom wall unit, lifting the receiver with pure
annoyance.)
ANDRÉS
(Into
the intercom)
Hello?
Who is it?
INTERCOM
VOICE
(An
aggressively cheerful, overly enthusiastic sales pitch)
Good
morning, neighbor! We’re dropping by with our brand-new organic, gluten-free,
keto-friendly vegan cupcakes! Hand-crafted right here in Echo Park!
(ANDRÉS
pulls away from the speaker for a second, fuming.)
ANDRÉS
(Back
to the speaker, sharp as a razor)
What
makes you think I want vegan cupcakes?! Just because I’m retired doesn't mean
my pancreas is a public park! I don't want your artisanal cupcakes! Good
morning.
(He
slams the intercom receiver back onto the wall with a loud clack. MARTIN
stifles a nervous giggle from the middle of the room.)
ANDRÉS
(Grumbling
as he grabs a plate of walnuts)
People
nowadays... Now, where were we?
MARTIN
(Stopping
dead in his tracks. His face drains of color. His eyes lock onto his phone
screen. A heavy, dramatic silence fills the room)
...No.
NO!
ANDRÉS
What
happened? Did the Golden Gate Bridge collapse again?
MARTIN
(Shouting,
hyperventilating)
NO,
NO, NO! ANDRÉS! LOOK AT THIS! LOOK!
ANDRÉS
(Unfazed,
popping a walnut into his mouth)
If
this is another video of a golden retriever riding a skateboard...
MARTIN
(Screaming
at the top of his lungs)
IT’S
ME! IT’S ME! I’M THE FUGITIVE!
(ANDRÉS
sighs, sets his coffee mug down on the windowsill, and walks slowly toward
MARTIN. MARTIN shoves the phone right into Andrés's face with trembling hands.)
ANDRÉS
All
right, calm down. Fugitive from what? What did you do? Who did you rob? Did you
knock over a Trader Joe’s while I was taking my afternoon nap?
MARTIN
Nothing!
I haven't done anything! I’ve been right here with you eating out of your
generous hand! Ahem... But look at the photo! It’s an official police bulletin!
"Alert, Alert: Dangerous fugitive serial killer at large in Los
Angeles." LOOK AT IT!
(ANDRÉS
grabs the phone, pulls his reading glasses out of his bathrobe pocket, slips
them on, and examines the image closely. He looks at the screen, then looks up
at MARTIN's face. He inspects him face-to-face, grabbing him firmly by the
chin.)
ANDRÉS
(With
absolute, chilling coldness)
Huh...
Yes. It could be.
MARTIN
(In
absolute shock)
What
do you mean, "it could be"?! That's my face!
ANDRÉS
Well,
there’s a resemblance... But don't flatter yourself too much. The guy in the
sketch is considerably younger. And definitely better looking.
MARTIN
(Indignant)
What?!
Excuse me, but I am at least that handsome, if not more! Look at these
cheekbones! Look at the sharp line of this jaw! Look at these thick yet
perfectly arched eyebrows! My bone structure is flawless.
ANDRÉS
That
sketch has the jawline of Brad Pitt and the haircut of an AllSaints mannequin.
Right now, you have bedhead and a crooked pout.
MARTIN
(Snatching
the phone back)
Keep
reading, Andrés! "The dangerous fugitive was last spotted roaming the
streets of Silver Lake." SILVER LAKE! They know where we live! They
know what we do! They're coming for us!
(MARTIN
plunges into total meltdown, dashes over to the picture window, and yanks the
curtains shut with a violent tug.)
ANDRÉS
Hey,
don't close my curtains or I’m changing the Wi-Fi password.
MARTIN
(Clutching
his head in terror)
They're
going to breach the walls! They're coming down the stairs in tactical gear,
listen to the sirens!
ANDRÉS
Alright,
drama queen. Calm down. Here, eat a chocolate truffle.
(ANDRÉS
jams a dark chocolate truffle straight into Martin's mouth. MARTIN chews it
furiously, wild-eyed and agitated. ANDRÉS grabs another truffle and pops it
into his own mouth.)
ANDRÉS
A
police sketch is just a collection of generic facial features. Slap on two
eyes, a rounded nose, and bushy eyebrows, and it looks like eighty percent of
the men in this zip code. It looks like you, it looks like my cousin Jonas, it
looks like the barista at Erewhon. It’s not you.
MARTIN
(Chewing
anxiously)
You
think? You’re sure?
ANDRÉS
I'm
positive. Besides, if you had actually murdered someone, it would show on your
face. You can’t even squash a fruit fly without asking me to fetch the
rolled-up magazine.
MARTIN
(Sighing
deeply, his shoulders dropping)
You're
right... You're right. I just have way too much data bouncing around my skull.
Too much scrolling, you know?
ANDRÉS
You
don't say.
(They
stand side by side in silence, mechanically chewing snacks from the pile of
plates accumulating on the coffee table.)
ANDRÉS
(Picking
up a piece of jicama)
By
the way... This jicama is turning. It tastes like an old college refrigerator.
MARTIN
(Picking
up an apple slice)
And
this apple is completely oxidized. It’s all brown and slimy. How long ago did
you slice these?
ANDRÉS
Ever
since you started ranting about geopolitics. About three millennia ago.
(A
peaceful silence settles over the room. MARTIN drops his phone onto the sofa.
ANDRÉS smiles, walks back to the picture window, and slides the linen curtain
wide open.)
ANDRÉS
Ah,
perfect. They’ve already filled the parking spot. A hideous matte-black
cyber-truck. The world keeps spinning.
(Just
one second after absolute peace is restored... the INTERCOM BUZZES! A shrill,
deafening, electronic shriek: BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! Both men freeze instantly in
their tracks. MARTIN drops his plate of apples, which shatters on the hardwood
floor. ANDRÉS stays frozen with his hand gripping the curtain fabric. Pure,
unadulterated panic washes over their faces.)
MARTIN
(In
a deathly whisper)
...It’s
the SWAT team. The FBI.
ANDRÉS
(In
a theatrical whisper)
The
tactical choppers. The drone strike!
MARTIN
(grabbing
Andrés by the forearm)
Tell
them I’m not here! Tell them we got divorced! Tell them I moved to Uruguay to
fight tech bros!
ANDRÉS
(Struggling
to maintain his dignity, walking at a glacial pace toward the intercom speaker)
Shut
up. I’ll answer it. If they shoot through the drywall, make sure you feed the
rescue dogs.
(ANDRÉS
picks up the intercom receiver with trembling hands. They press their ears
together against the plastic casing, shivering with fright.)
ANDRÉS
(In
his most dramatic voice, unsure if he's playing along or terrified for real)
...Hello? Who is this?
INTERCOM
VOICE
(An
ultra-soothing, slow, melodic, beatific voice)
Good
morning, neighbors! May peace be with you today. We called because we’d love to
gift you one minute of your precious time to share some wonderful news...
regarding the End of Days. Would you have a moment to hear the Word?
(A
single second of profound realization passes. MARTIN and ANDRÉS look dead into
each other's eyes. The panic vanishes instantly. The accumulated tension bursts
out in a simultaneous, explosive, unbridled fit of laughter. ANDRÉS slams the
intercom receiver back onto the wall while grabbing his stomach in hysterics.
MARTIN collapses onto the sofa, completely helpless with laughter, kicking his
legs up in the air.)
ANDRÉS
(Between
choking laughs)
The...
The End of Days! They arrived right on schedule, and we have terrible news for
them—a nuclear reactor just blew up in Silver Lake, so you better start praying
and have a wonderful rest of your morning, folks!
MARTIN
(Dying
of laughter)
You
should have invited them up! We could have traded apocalyptic conspiracy
theories! See? You were wrong again, Andrés.
(They
laugh uncontrollably as the stage lights slowly and warmly fade to black.)
[CURTAIN]
