THE CROW, THE FOX, AND THE CROSSOVER DRIBBLE.

 

 

 

  

THE CROW, THE FOX, AND THE CROSSOVER DRIBBLE

"El Sueño del Cuervo y la Zorra")

By Benjamin Gavarre

 

THE CROW, THE FOX, AND THE CROSSOVER DRIBBLE © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

The Crow, the Fox, and the Crossover Dribble (adapted from El sueño del cuervo y la zorra) is a surrealist one-act farce where Aesop’s classic fable collides with absurdism and sharp urban sitcom satire. Set inside a shifting loft-turned-basketball-court that exists entirely within the protagonist's fever dream, the play follows Matty—our gullible "Crow"—a sweet-natured guy with zero hoop skills who clutches his prized "cheese": the keys to his SUV and a desperate longing for romance. Circling him is Bethany, a predatory "Fox" in a tagged sequin dress and ear-splitting white orthopedic shoes; Matty's ice-cold mother Mama Rose and her broom-wielding accomplice Dotty; a shape-shifting nightmare salesman hawking everything from King James Bibles to aerospace vacuums; and Leo, Matty’s deadpan, fiercely loyal best friend. Moving from silent physical comedy to an ambush inside a kitschy roadside tearoom, the play uses dream logic and slapstick exorcism to contrast the cheap flattery of opportunism with the quiet grace of true brotherhood.

 

 

THE CROW, THE FOX, AND THE CROSSOVER DRIBBLE

CHARACTERS:

• MATTY (Mateo): A short, olive-skinned, good-natured guy in his twenties. Has zero talent for basketball and a heart far too soft for his own good.

 

• LEO (Lalo): Matty’s best friend. A bit taller, sarcastic, rough around the edges, but fiercely loyal.

 

• BETHANY (Elizabeth): The gold-digging girlfriend. Pretentious, delusional, wears ear-splitting white orthopedic shoes and a cheap blonde wig.

 

• MAMA ROSE (Doña Carmen): Matty’s mother. Firm, bone-dry irony, fiercely protective.

 

• DOTTY (Chayito): The longtime housekeeper. Mischievous, observant, sharp-tongued, and lethal with a broom.

 

• THE DISRUPTOR SALESMAN (Vendedor Disruptor): A shape-shifting dream figure who changes professions every time the door opens (Bibles, Timeshares, Vacuums).

 

SCENE I: The Court of the Higher Dimension

 

(The stage depicts a Brooklyn loft that bleeds surreally into a hardwood basketball court. MATTY lies flat on his back on the floor, completely winded, mouth wide open. LEO stands over him, casually tucking an invisible basketball under one arm.)

 

LEO: You’ve got the court vision of a concussed manatee, Matty. Seriously, watching you play hoops is like watching a wind-up pug keychain try to dunk. Thirty minutes on the hardwood and the only point you scored was that dead horsefly stuck to the hem of your shorts.

 

MATTY: (From the floor, speaking in the resonant, overly dramatic baritone of a silent-film heartthrob) It’s my signature style, Leo. Physical minimalism. Bethany says my lack of coordination is proof that my intellect operates in a higher dimension.

 

(BETHANY enters. Her platinum blonde wig sits slightly crooked on her head. She wears a tacky sequin dress with the cardboard store tag still dragging behind her, paired with clunky white orthopedic shoes whose rubber soles screech violently against the hardwood with every step: SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!)

 

BETHANY: Damn straight it does, my little pineapple Twinkie! (She pounces on him like an alley cat on a fire escape, smothering him on the floor.) What a poetic way to make out with the linoleum! Hey, baby, speaking of higher dimensions... toss me the keys to the SUV. I gotta run over to Johns Hopkins to take out an appendix. Science waits for no woman! Oh, and tell your dad that—

 

MAMA ROSE: (Leaning out from the kitchen holding a mug of black coffee, her gaze colder than a meat locker) Which dad, Bethany? Because if you’re referring to Matty’s late father, you’re gonna need a shovel and a map to Never-Never Land, seeing as nobody knows where the hell he’s buried.

 

BETHANY: (Blinking furiously, suddenly rattled) Oh, Mama Rose, stop joking around! Matty’s father holds a massive blue-chip portfolio on Wall Street, and I fully intend to keep—I mean, I intend to prove to him that I’m the absolute best asset for his son!

 

DOTTY: (Strolling past with a broom and sweeping directly over Bethany’s orthopedic shoes) Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the mister is more volatile than crypto. One day word gets around he’s living in a hippie commune in Sedona making healing crystals out of old Pabst Blue Ribbon bottles; the next day somebody swears he ran off to Reno with a Monster Energy ring girl; and just yesterday the mailman said he saw him hawking bootleg fleece blankets on the L train at 14th Street. Nobody’s finding that man with a search warrant and a bloodhound. So the car stays parked. And as for his stock options—let’s not even go there. Literally, the man is no longer with us.

 

BETHANY: (Staging an operatic faint, collapsing dramatically onto the couch) This is sabotage! You people just can’t stand the thought of a woman of breeding—with future surgeons in her family tree—marrying into this den of... of penniless con artists! Matty... put your help in their place right now or I’m revoking your hand-kissing privileges!

 

(Matty, dazed and slack-jawed, lets out a soft sound like a startled pigeon.)

 

MATTY: Bethany, don’t call them that... and Mama Rose is my mom, remember?

 

SCENE II: The Silent Duet and the Fox’s Stage Fright

 

(Mama Rose and Dotty retreat discreetly to a corner of the stage, sitting down on little wooden stools and watching the scene unfold as if enjoying a punch-and-judy puppet show.)

 

(A silent sequence begins. Matty and Leo, without uttering a single word, completely ignore Bethany and launch into an intense, bizarre, and strangely intimate choreography of body language. Leo crosses his arms, stares dead into Matty’s eyes, and snaps his fingers downward, ordering him to "stand up straight." Matty responds by bugging his eyes out wide, stroking his chin, sticking his tongue out for a split second, and swiveling his hips to mime a bricked jump shot. Leo shakes his head, flashes a crooked half-smile, slowly peels off his hoodie to reveal his shoulders, and winks into the void. At the sight of this, Matty shudders from head to toe, mimes a silent massive coronary, drops to his knees, and offers up the invisible basketball like an ancient Mayan blood sacrifice.)

 

(Bethany, finding herself completely upstaged by the pantomime, spirals into a rock-and-roll possession trance. Hair wild, eyes squeezed shut, she begins channeling Janis Joplin: shredding her vocal cords, thrashing her head toward the floor, and doubling over in cosmic agony as she wails a cappella.)

 

BETHANY: (Howling with agonizing vibrato) Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz! Listen to me! Feel the raw blues of my rock-star soul! (She stomps her orthopedic shoes with an ear-splitting SQUEAK and twists her leg as if struck by a charley horse.) Witness my stage-diva flexibility! Matty, hold me! I’m dying of unbridled passion over here and you’d rather gawk at a sweaty guy in a tank top!

 

(Matty and Leo don’t even glance her way. They continue their silent dialogue: Leo traces a heart in the air with his index fingers; Matty snatches it deftly out of midair, pops it into his mouth like a piece of bubble gum, chews, and gives a chef’s-kiss gesture meaning "delicious.")

 

BETHANY: (On the verge of a nervous breakdown, yanking at her hair and nearly tearing her blonde wig off by the roots) Are you seriously ignoring me for your creepy mystical obsession with basketball?! You’re sick! You’re both depraved ball-junkies! I honestly don’t know how you can be blind to my star power... (Suddenly, she switches gears, straightens up, and shakes her assets with desperate neediness.) Look at me! I am Artemis, Goddess of the Sun!

 

(Matty and Leo freeze their pantomime dead in its tracks. They turn and stare at her, completely motionless, one eyebrow cocked, wearing identical expressions of: "Does this woman genuinely have no idea how ridiculous she looks right now?")

 

MATTY AND LEO: (In flat unison) Wrong, wrong, wrong... Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty, right?

 

(Suddenly, the front door flies open with a bang. In steps an immaculate man in a dark brown suit, hair slicked back with pomade, carrying a leather briefcase with supreme elegance. He offers a textbook bow and a dazzlingly polite smile.)

 

SALESMAN: A very good afternoon to you all, distinguished gentlemen and fair lady. Pardon the intrusion on this glorious day. I come most humbly offering the Illustrated King James Family Bible, a crowning masterpiece for the spiritual enrichment of the household. Might I interest you in acquiring a copy?

 

LEO: (With monumental exhaustion) Oh, give me a break, man. Door-to-door Bibles? Nobody buys encyclopedias or Bibles at the door anymore, it’s the twenty-first century. Salvation comes in a PDF now.

 

(Dream effect: The Salesman’s smile vanishes instantly. His eyes roll back into his skull, the seams of his suit rip open on their own, and he slams his briefcase onto the floor as the stage lighting plunges into an apocalyptic blood-red.)

 

SALESMAN: A PDF?! Blasphemers! You are all under THE CURSE OF NOSFERATU! I condemn you to the eternal hellfire of Gehenna! Vampires of the Apocalypse, you shall roast in brimstone for rejecting the divine print edition!

 

SCENE III: Ambush at the Cracker Barrel of Horrors

 

(At the roar of "THE CURSE!", an instantaneous theatrical transformation takes place: the polite clinking of teacups rings out, and the loft lighting shifts to a syrupy, amber-yellow glow identical to a kitschy roadside Cracker Barrel tearoom. Mama Rose and Dotty magically appear seated at a small wooden table, sipping tea with supreme composure.)

 

DOTTY: Would the lady of the house care for some tea?

 

BETHANY: (Baffled, blinking at the sudden set change) Am I... the lady of the house?

 

MAMA ROSE: (Polishing the teapot as if summoning a genie) Of course, Beth... or should we call you Betty, or Bitsy, or Buffy? Bethany is such a mouthful... Here, have a cookie.

 

BETHANY: Well... maybe just one or two. Are they chocolate chip?

 

DOTTY: Chocolate-pecan... my own special batch.

 

BETHANY: Oh, how lovely. You can really tell they’re... (She looks down at a plate of enormous, misshapen cookies studded with shriveled black raisins that look suspiciously like beetles.) Very...

 

DOTTY: (With a deadpan horror-movie stare) CHOCOLATE!

 

MAMA ROSE: Leo, Matty... come sit down, boys. Mommy made a little surprise for you.

 

MATTY: Yeah, Mom?

 

LEO: Thanks, Mrs. R. I’m a sucker for surprises.

 

BETHANY: (To Leo) The surprise is for me, you moron, can’t you take a hint?

 

LEO: Shut up and eat your bug cookies.

 

BETHANY: You know, I hadn’t noticed your welfare sneakers until just now... You do realize your toes are poking out the front because you can’t afford socks, right?

 

(Coordinated ambush: While Bethany is busy sneering at Leo, Dotty distracts her with a sharp, tactical whack of the broom across her ankles. Bethany looks down in outrage, and in that split second, Mama Rose materializes behind her and throws a damp bedsheet over her head. Together, the two women spin her around like a human piñata in a game of blindman’s bluff, sending Bethany shrieking and flailing wildly until she manages to rip herself free.)

 

BETHANY: (Terrified, smoothing down her dress and pointing a trembling finger at them) You people are certifiable! This house is an asylum!

 

MATTY: Mom... why’d you do that? And Dotty... come on, where are your manners?

 

MAMA ROSE: He’s right. Sit down, dear. And tell us all about your true intentions with our boy.

 

BETHANY: Intentions? Well, I... (Deciding to play her final trump card, she launches into a torrent of shameless, over-the-top flattery aimed at Matty.) Matty is such a catch... a model young man! I’ve watched him on the court and he’s a pure natural athlete. He’s so dashing, so devastatingly handsome, so generous... and I’ve alwaysbeen so, so fond of him. I love him!

 

MATTY: (Choking up on the verge of tears at Bethany’s words) You really mean that, Beth? And here I thought you were just trying to sell me term life insurance...

 

(A loud, insistent pounding at the door. Leo opens it. In strolls the DISRUPTOR SALESMAN, reconfigured by dream logic: he now wears a loud floral Hawaiian shirt, dark aviator sunglasses, and clutches a stack of glossy brochures.)

 

TIMESHARE SALESMAN: Picture this, pal: a sunset in Acapulco, another in Maui, another in Myrtle Beach, and another in Cabo... You name it! You can own the vacation home of your dreams with this exclusive timeshare opportunity that—

 

LEO: (Fed up) Not buying anything. Beat it.

 

TIMESHARE SALESMAN: Ah, big mistake, pal! Huge! If you walk away from this deal, you’ll pay the price: you’ll live a lonely, dreary existence, starving for fun... and you will never, ever—mark my words—NEVER go on vacation again!

 

LEO: Yeah, yeah, buddy... hey, wait a second, weren’t you selling Bibles five minutes ago?

 

(Visual vanish effect: The instant Leo questions his identity, the lights flicker, the sound of an old film projector snapping off echoes through the room, and the Salesman evaporates off the stage, dropping his brochures in a flutter to the floor. Matty picks right back up inside his romantic bubble, oblivious to the jump-cut.)

 

MATTY: You really mean it, Beth! I swear I thought you were just trying to sell me term life insurance...

 

BETHANY: (Buttering him up just like the Fox sweet-talking the Crow) I adore you, Matty. From the very first moment I saw the sunbeam kiss your gorgeous hair... from the moment the little sparrows sang at the sight of your radiant eyes and your cherub smile...

 

MATTY: Keep going, don’t stop! Nobody’s ever said such sweet, poetic things to me in my life.

 

(Bethany grabs him by both hands and yanks him roughly off the floor.)

 

BETHANY: Kiss me, Matty, I’m all yours! I want a life bursting with romance and adventure with you. We’ll have babies... four babies!

 

MATTY: Four babies?!

 

BETHANY: Or four teacup dogs, like little hamsters... I’ll watch them. You’ll go to work and pay the rent—I mean, worship me every single day! We’ll go out to five-star dinners, go dancing...

 

LEO: And leave thefour hamster-dogs locked in the apartment... yeah, that sounds humane.

 

BETHANY: Shut your trap!

 

MATTY: Beth, I... I want to love you as much as you love me, I really do, it’s just—

 

BETHANY: (Unleashing another rapid-fire barrage of flattery so he can’t think straight) You are the sun in my sky! You are my oxygen! You are my destiny! Let’s love each other, Matty, now and forever!

 

MATTY: Oh, Bethy, my soulmate!

 

BETHANY: My Matty, mine, mine, all mine...!

 

(The front door buzzes and bangs again relentlessly. Leo pulls it open and comes face-to-face once more with the DISRUPTOR SALESMAN, who now wields a massive chrome metal hose attached to a heavy canister.)

 

VACUUM SALESMAN: Vacuum cleaners, young man! The bleeding edge of NASA aerospace engineering! With this baby you can clean—

 

LEO: I know what a vacuum cleaner is. Get lost.

 

VACUUM SALESMAN: (Jamming his wingtip shoe into the doorway so Leo can’t shut it) Now hold on, son, you haven’t seen what kind of suction I’m packing here, look! This machine doesn’t just suck up dust mites—it sucks up high-society lies, predatory prenups, and counterfeit promises of love!

 

(The Salesman flips the switch. The machine roars to life with a deafening jet-engine howl that rattles the entire loft. He levels the giant chrome nozzle straight at Bethany, whose sequin dress immediately starts getting sucked into the tube.)

 

BETHANY: Turn off that infernal contraption! It’s sucking away my socioeconomic security! Matty, do something, it’s gonna rip off my orthopedic shoes!

 

MAMA ROSE: (Rising from the tea table with chilling calm and pointing her silver teaspoon at Bethany) Leave it on High, young man. Let’s see if that thing can suck the delusions of grandeur out of this little grifter. Top of her class in the operating room? Please! The only thing you know how to operate on is my son’s checking account.

 

DOTTY: (Blocking her escape route with the broom) Damn right! All that bragging about a family tree full of surgeons, and the first thing she wants is the keys to the SUV so she can take it down to the pawn shop. Go on, sweetheart, have another beetle cookie to settle your nerves.

 

BETHANY: (Cornered between the roaring vacuum, the broom, and two pairs of ice-cold eyes, losing every shred of her composure) Go to hell, all of you! You’re a pack of lying, low-rent losers! I refuse to waste my medical prestige in this nest of... SCORPIONS!

 

(Bethany bolts in terror for the exit, dodging the broom and setting off a frantic symphony of rubber soles—SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!—until she vanishes down the hall.)

 

(Mass vanish effect: A subtle sonic boom—like a sudden gust of wind—sweeps the stage. The warm Cracker Barrel lighting snaps off instantly. The Vacuum Salesman and his roaring machine vanish in a blink of darkness, plunging the loft into dead silence.)

 

(Mama Rose and Dotty, with unbothered serenity, smooth down their aprons, tuck two flatirons into a bucket that appeared out of nowhere, and stroll toward the exit as if nothing happened.)

 

MAMA ROSE: Well, now that the little gold-digger has left the building... we’ll leave you boys to yourselves.

 

(Both women exit the stage in synchronized silent-comedy steps, pulling the door shut with a crisp click.)

 

SCENE IV: The Awakening of the Crow

 

(Matty and Leo are left alone at center stage. The atmosphere turns intimate, almost like a Samuel Beckett play: stripped of artifice, suspended in time beneath a soft overhead spotlight.)

 

MATTY: (Staring at the empty space where Bethany stood, scratching his head clumsily) Wait... so she wasn’t even pre-med? And what about my dad? He’s really dead, right?

 

LEO: (Walks over slowly, takes the invisible basketball out of Matty’s hands, drops it to the floor, and places his foot gently on top of it. He speaks with heavy, deadpan sarcasm.) No, Matty, of course not! Your dad was probably an anonymous sperm donor and Bethany is either a flunked-out nursing assistant or a full-time con artist... though I’m sure deep down, way down at the bottom of her sub-zero heart, she really "loved you."

 

MATTY: (Touched, falling hook, line, and sinker for the sarcasm) She did, didn’t she? She loved me. She said such nice things about my hair.

 

LEO: (Giving the back of his head a light slap) No, you idiot! I was being sarcastic! She was trying to boost your car! Hey—you still got your keys on you?

 

MATTY: Never let ’em out of my hand.

 

LEO: You know... the only thing real in this whole goddamn dream is that you play basketball like you’ve got cinderblocks tied to your sneakers.

 

MATTY: (Looking down with a goofy, genuine smile, completely missing the fact that Leo just told him he’s dreaming) Yeah, well, you passed me the rock with your eyes a minute ago. I saw it clear as day.

 

LEO: (Hit by an involuntary wave of affection, he lets out a long sigh) Yeah, Crow... I passed it to you because you’re the only idiot in all of Brooklyn who puts up with my attitude and still can’t hit an open three-pointer to save his life.

 

(Leo reaches out and grips the back of Matty’s neck—no big fanfare, just a dry, everyday, deeply fraternal gesture. Matty freezes, blinks three times, puffs out his chest like a dazed pigeon, and finally breaks into a smile of pure peace.)

 

MATTY: I’m a crow... Hey, why do you call me Crow? You think we can hit the court tomorrow?

 

LEO: Six in the morning, Matty. And if you brick your layups, I’m locking you in a closet with Bethany so she can keep feeding you fox-and-crow lines.

 

MATTY: Hey, don’t call her that, she’s not that bad once you get to know her...

 

LEO: It’s from the fable, dummy... the fox flatters the crow until he opens his beak, drops the cheese, and loses everything he’s got. You fell asleep on the couch and missed our shootaround. Wake up already, Matty... Matty...

 

(Leo gives him a firm pat on the back that makes him stumble forward a step. Matty, visibly groggy, rubs his eyes as if genuinely waking up from a deep sleep. Together, they turn and walk shoulder-to-shoulder toward the kitchen as the loft lights slowly fade into darkness.)

 

BLACKOUT.

 

 

THE CROW, THE FOX, AND THE CROSSOVER DRIBBLE © 2026 by BENJAMIN GAVARRE is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0