WITH THE MUSTACHE PROUDLY ON!
(A Political Slapstick Farce in One Act)
CHARACTERS:
- LYSIS (40s): The leader. Sharp, fierce, with a commanding,
gritty Texan/Western accent. She wears a gigantic fake mustache that keeps
ungluing because she laughs too hard.
- CONGRESSMAN BRAD
"THE LOBBY" (50s):
Portly, wearing an incredibly expensive three-piece suit. He
smells of imported whiskey and illicit campaign funds.
- CONGRESSMAN CHAD
"THE FILIBUSTER" (40s): A master at breaking records for sleeping on
the House floor. He carries his official Capitol privacy
pillow.
- GENERAL SMITH
(60s): Capital Capitol
Security Chief. Hysterical, paranoid, wearing a uniform covered in cheap,
fake medals that look like soda can tabs.
- COMBATANT WOMEN
(2 actresses): Armed with
brooms, frying pans, and ridiculous protest signs.
- THE DONUT
DELIVERY GUY (Extra / Comodín): Walks in trying to collect cash for the
caucus snacks.
ACT I
At the rise of the curtain, CONGRESSMAN BRAD
is fast asleep at his desk, snoring like a broken chainsaw, tucked up to his
nose under a massive American flag. Next to him, CONGRESSMAN CHAD is fast
asleep, hugging his official Capitol pillow, drooling slightly over a
leather-bound copy of the Constitution.
BRAD
(Waking up with a jolt, throwing a stack of fake bills into the air)
I vote nay! I vote nay on cutting the budget for the military branch's private
golf courses! Oh... wait... sorry, Chad... it was just a horrible nightmare.
Man, what a hangover. That Cuban cigar I smoked last night at the private club
must have been laced with public education infrastructure funds.
CHAD
(Without opening his eyes, scratching his belly under his jacket)
Don't talk so loud, Brad, you’re ruining my legislative inspiration. What you
smoked last night was the veterans' pension fund. God, serving the country is
exhausting! I’ve been sitting here approving invisible amendments for four
hours, and the right hemisphere of my brain has gone completely numb.
BRAD
Hey, when is the congressional donut delivery guy getting here? If I don't get
a three-story glazed donut topped with bacon right now, I won't have the mental
capacity to draft the bill on the food crisis. The average citizen demands that
we are well-fed to represent them with dignity!
CHAD
(Scoffing)
Ah, the average citizen! Those wonderful taxpayers who work so we can have five
estates in Florida, three hybrid cars we never drive, and four ex-wives suing
us for every dime of alimony... God bless America and its tax deduction system!
(Suddenly, the grand back doors of the House
floor burst open with a loud metallic slam. LYSIS marches in, followed by her
group of women. They are wearing heavy detective overcoats, stetson cowboy
hats, and fake mustaches so large and bushy they look like push-brooms).
CHAD
(Jumping in his seat, putting the pillow over his head like a helmet)
Holy pork barrel, Brad! The Green New Deal protesters are storming the
building! Hide the American Express Black cards and the platinum watches, fast!
LYSIS
(With a deep, gravelly voice, walking with a cowboy swagger)
Silence, you caucus of corporate parasites! We are the new ultra-independent
parliamentary faction from the Comadres District. We just marched from the
local supermarket to bring order and disinfect this swamp of lobbyists.
BRAD
(Standing up arrogantly, adjusting his collar)
Hold your horses, you union intruders! You can’t just walk onto the House floor
and hold session! To sit in these seats, you need to have survived at least
three televised smear campaigns and own a shell company in the Cayman Islands!
Out of the Capitol!
LYSIS
(Smiling mischievously, crossing her arms)
Oh, really? Well, we have a constitutional verdict you won't be able to table.
Girls, drop the patriotic camouflage!
(Physical Action: The women rip off their
overcoats and fake mustaches in one swift motion and fling them right at the
Congressmen's faces. Brad ends up with the mustache stuck to his forehead, and
Chad gets his on his bald spot).
CHAD
(Screaming in panic, trying to peel the hair off his forehead)
Oh, my God! They are women! It’s a gender-balanced coup d'état with a high
estrogen content! Call the FBI!
LYSIS
You bet, you absolute heirs of immunity! And today, we are taking the podium by
hook, by crook, or by worst-case scenario!
BRAD
(Screaming into his desk microphone)
Point of order! Section Four of the House Rules clearly states that the
Speaker's chair belongs to me by political inheritance! I demand the right of
rebuttal!
LYSIS
(Lets out a loud laugh that screeches through the theater speakers)
Oh, Brad! The rules also state you can't accept cash donations from tobacco
companies, and look at your teeth—they are yellow as corn!
(Physical Action: LYSIS leaps onto the high
Speaker’s podium and grabs a massive wooden gavel).
LYSIS
The year-long sabbatical session is officially adjourned! From now on, the
women of the nation write the budget and the legislative agenda!
(Physical Action: A COMBATANT WOMAN snatches
the pillow from Chad and whacks him upside the head with it, knocking him off
his chair. Another woman runs to the control panel and shuts off the main
lights, leaving only a bright red spotlight on Lysis).
BRAD
(Wailing on the floor, throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler)
Nooo! Not the screens! The Super Bowl was about to start! We had bets placed
with the Senate!
LYSIS
(Slams the massive gavel onto the desk, cracking a folder in half: CRASH!)
First extraordinary decree of the new era of the payback! It is hereby
forbidden for any congressman, senator, or secretary of state to own more than
one modest middle-class home, one four-cylinder car, and one official family!
If you own summer mansions, they are being confiscated to build public
community kitchens and twenty-four-hour daycares!
CHAD
(Clutched his chest, crawling across the carpet)
Nooooo! My estate in the Hamptons! My oil stocks! My three private secretaries
traveling on the taxpayers' dime! This is pure proctological socialism! Help!
LYSIS
And the worst part, gentlemen of the good life! As of tomorrow morning, your
VIP government healthcare is canceled. You will have to go stand in line at the
public community clinic at five in the morning just to have a grumpy nurse hand
you a generic aspirin! Now, let the real cleaning crew in!
(The other COMBATANT WOMAN rushes in dragging
metallic trash cans that make a horrible noise, brooms, and massive kitchen
pots. They dump floral aprons over the Congressmen's suits and force them to
sweep the floor at frying-pan point).
ACT II: HOMELAND SECURITY HAS ARRIVED
(A comedic, high-pitched toy police whistle
blows. GENERAL SMITH enters, his uniform stuffed with absurd badges and soda
can tabs, holding a neon-green plastic toy gun that makes spacey laser noises: Piu,
piu, piu!).
GENERAL SMITH
(With a hoarse, deep voice like a low-budget action movie general)
In the name of the Capitol Super-Secure, Armored, and Counter-Terrorism
Security Detail! Freeze, everyone! This farce is officially canceled due to a
breach of the First Amendment of my holy will!
LYSIS
(Crossing her arms from the top of the podium, looking at him with pity)
Oh, my dear General Smith! Aren't you just a little bit ashamed? Coming in here
to restore constitutional order with a plastic toy gun while the country's
highways look like the surface of the moon from all the potholes?
GENERAL SMITH
(Looking at his gun, deeply offended)
Hey, watch it, lady, this is an official issue sidearm! Well... I did take it
from my grandson's toy box before leaving the house, but the rubber band snaps
incredibly hard if I aim for your eyes. Surrender or I fire!
(A COMBATANT WOMAN sneaks up stealthily
behind General Smith like a kitchen ninja. She pulls out a giant green neon
water blaster and presses it directly against the back of his neck).
COMBATANT WOMAN 1
Hands up, my chocolate General! Drop the toy or I’ll redecorate your dress
uniform with orange juice concentrate!
GENERAL SMITH
(Turns completely pale, drops his plastic gun, and raises his hands
trembling)
Good grief! A hydraulic terrorist attack! I am the highest national security
authority in Washington D.C.!
COMBATANT WOMAN 2
(Runs in, slaps his military hat off, and puts a yellow checkered chef’s hat
on him)
Your authority just depreciated faster than tech stocks, General! Start
sweeping the aisle right now—there’s too much dust from crooked deals
accumulated under this rug!
(GENERAL SMITH sits on the floor, crying in
pure frustration as he cleans the desk legs with an old duster. LYSIS leans
back in the massive Speaker's chair and glares directly at the audience).
LYSIS
Alright, congressmen of the entitlement caucus! Line up for the official press
photo of the new regime!
PARABASIS: THE TRUTH BOMB
(The stage lights shift to a harsh,
uncomfortable amber tone. The CONGRESSMEN stand in a line at the front of the
stage, wearing their floral aprons and holding their brooms with faces of deep
disgust. The WOMEN stand behind them, looking triumphant. LYSIS steps forward
to the edge of the stage, breaking the fourth wall completely, and addresses
the audience with a cynical, biting, defiant smile).
LYSIS
(To the audience, pointing with the wooden gavel)
Look at you... yeah, all of you sitting very comfortably in those theater
seats, laughing at these ridiculous men in suits. It’s so easy to come to the
theater to applaud the revenge of the housewives and mock corrupt politicians,
isn't it? Especially when the farce happening out there in the real world is
three times more shameless—and you pay for it in full on your tax bills every
single month!
You laugh at these lazy men because they use
public money to buy mansions, and you laugh at us because we use a broom and a
frying pan to strip them of their immunity. But don't act all holy and play the
victim. In this country, we are Olympic champions at complaining about the
government over Saturday dinner, and come Monday morning, we are sliding a
twenty-dollar bill to the traffic officer so he doesn't ticket us for speeding!
(She takes off her cowboy hat and uses it to
fan herself)
Look closely at these two choruses: the
wealthy men crying because we took away their luxury cars, and the fierce women
holding the law in their aprons. You are looking at the exact same thing: the
perfect reflection of our beautiful civic culture of "let’s see who can
screw who first." A country doesn't change just because women hold the
congressional gavel or because husbands wash the dishes. It changes the day we
stop admiring the guy who cheats the system just because "he sprinkles a
little bit of the prize on us." Stop looking for saviors of the nation
with mustaches or with skirts. How about you stop littering, pay your taxes
without cheating on your declaration, and stop cutting the line at the
supermarket? Your own behind comes first, sure, but your integrity comes right
after! This session is officially adjourned, you parasites!
(LYSIS delivers one final, brutal gavel
strike to the podium. The congressmen jump in terror, dropping their brooms.
All the women aggressively flip the bird or blow a loud raspberry at the
audience as the curtain crashes down at maximum speed).
EXTRA-FAST
CURTAIN
