lunes, octubre 13, 2025

EL UNGUENTO DE LA INVISIBILIDAD: ENTREMESES. POR GAVARRE BENJAMIN.

 

EL UNGUENTO DE LA INVISIBILIDAD:


Tres Entremeses anacrónicos del 


Doctor Sanguijuelo y sus Raros Pacientes 

 


Este trabajo ha sido publicado para su difusión libre y abierta, aunque todos los derechos de propiedad intelectual están reservados. El uso público de esta obra requiere el permiso del autor y para obtener la autorización correspondiente comuníquese con bengavarre@gmail.com o gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Bandeja de entrada)


 


Uno


Entremés del Paranoico, el Líder de la Secta y la Celestina Renovada

 

Personajes:

 

  • DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: Que en este Entremés se presenta como líder de una secta secreta.
  • COSME: Un hombre paranoico que ve conspiraciones en todas partes.
  • DOÑA ELVIRA: Una vendedora ambulante de pócimas y ungüentos. Descarada y persistente.

Decorado: El mismo consultorio, pero con las cortinas echadas para crear un ambiente lúgubre.

(La escena comienza con el DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO pasando un imán por la cabeza de COSME, que está sentado y temblando).

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (En un susurro conspirador). Sí... lo noto... Hay una vibración anómala. Las fuerzas oscuras de la Atlántida han puesto sus ojos en ti, hermano Cosme.

COSME: ¡Se lo dije, Gran Maestre! ¡Me han implantado micro-chips en el cráneo para leerme el pensamiento! ¡Y juraría que llevo micro-cámaras en los globos oculares! ¡Todo lo que veo lo emiten en directo a la corte del Preste Juan!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Una tecnología perversa que aún no se ha inventado! Por eso nadie te cree, ¡pero nosotros, la Sagrada Orden del Ungüento Primordial, conocemos estos peligros! Usan sensores gamma para robarte los sueños.

COSME: ¡Mis sueños! ¡Anoche soñé que era una berenjena y esta mañana el frutero me miraba raro! ¡Lo saben todo! ¿Qué podemos hacer, Gran Maestre?

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: Debemos realizar el Ritual de la Extracción Magnética. Necesitaré dos huevos de gallina negra, el hígado de un sapo y...

(Unos golpes tremendos retumban en la puerta, haciendo que ambos salten del susto).

DOÑA ELVIRA: (Desde fuera). ¡Abra, Doctor, que sé que está ahí! ¡No se haga el ermitaño, que le traigo una mercancía que ni los tesoros de las Indias!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Siseando a Cosme). ¡No hagas ruido! ¡Es una agente del enemigo!

(La puerta se abre de un empujón y entra DOÑA ELVIRA, cargada con una enorme cesta).

DOÑA ELVIRA: ¡Conque en un ritual! ¡Déjese de pamplinas, que se le va a pasar el arroz! Le traigo el nuevo Elixir de Hígado de Basilisco, ¡quita las penas, las almorranas y hasta las deudas con el rey!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Mujer inoportuna! ¡Estoy en mitad de un delicadísimo procedimiento espiritual! ¡Váyase!

DOÑA ELVIRA: (Ignorándolo y fijándose en Cosme). Y para este caballero de rostro compungido tengo el "Agua de la Confianza". (Se acerca a Cosme y le guiña un ojo). Con dos gotas de esto, es capaz de venderle hielo a un esquimal.

COSME: (Retrocediendo, aterrorizado). ¡Atrás! ¡Es una de ellos! ¡Sus ojos son dos cámaras de vigilancia!

DOÑA ELVIRA: (Sin entender nada, intenta ponerle un frasco en la mano). ¡Tome, hombre, no sea arisco! ¡Pruébelo! ¿O prefiere el "Ungüento de la Invisibilidad"? ¡Ideal para maridos que llegan tarde a casa!

(Al ver el frasco, Cosme pega un grito de pánico).

COSME: ¡El suero de la verdad! ¡Quiere interrogarme! ¡Quiere saber dónde escondo las recetas de mi abuela! ¡Nooooo!

(Cosme sale corriendo como alma que lleva el diablo, derribando una mesita en su huida).

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Exasperado). ¡Magnífico! ¡Acaba de asustar a mi mejor cliente! ¡Pagaba en doblones de oro!

DOÑA ELVIRA: (Viendo cómo se ha ido Cosme, se encoge de hombros). Bah, un loco de atar. En fin, peor para él. (Se vuelve hacia el Doctor con una sonrisa de vendedora). Ahora que estamos solos y tranquilos... ¿le puedo dejar mis productos?

(Saca un rollo de pergamino de su cesta y lo desenrolla).

DOÑA ELVIRA: Mire, este es el catálogo. Tenemos una oferta especial en filtros de amor y un descuento del veinte por ciento en polvos para maldecir a los vecinos. ¿Qué le apetece?

(El Doctor Sanguijuelo se deja caer en la silla, completamente derrotado, mientras Doña Elvira empieza a recitarle las virtudes de un aceite de grasa de serpiente).


Fin del Entremés del Paranoico, el Líder de la Secta y la Celestina Renovada


**************************************************




Dos


Entremés del Doctor, el Tímido y la Doncella


Personajes: 

  • DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: El mismo matasanos de siempre.
  • FULGENCIO: Un joven tan tímido que parece que va a pedir perdón por respirar.
  • ISABELA: Criada del Doctor. Joven, bella y de ingenio vivaz. Es consciente de su efecto en los demás.

 

Decorado: El consultorio del Doctor Sanguijuelo. Isabela está sacudiendo el polvo del esqueleto con desgana.

(La escena comienza con el DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO observando una cebolla a través de un catalejo).

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Fascinante! Las capas de esta liliácea son un trasunto perfecto de las siete esferas celestiales que oprimen el alma. ¡Si tan solo pudiera aplicarle una sangría para ver sus humores!

ISABELA: (Para sí, pero en voz alta). Siete esferas de aburrimiento son las que me oprimen a mí en este cuchitril. ¡Más humores tiene un caracol seco!

(Llaman a la puerta. Es un golpe tan suave que apenas se oye. Isabela abre y entra FULGENCIO, que al verla se pone rojo como un tomate y se tropieza con sus propios pies).

ISABELA: (Con una sonrisa pícara). Cuidado, buen hombre, no vaya a descoyuntarse antes de ver al galeno.

FULGENCIO: (Tartamudeando, sin poder mirarla a los ojos). Per... perdón... gra... gracias... yo...

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Adelante, criatura doliente! ¿Qué mal aqueja a vuestro cuerpo mortal? ¿Es un exceso de flema o una escasez de maravedíes? Ambos tienen síntomas parecidos.

(Fulgencio intenta hablar, pero justo en ese momento Isabela se inclina para recoger un plumero, y el joven se queda sin aliento, llevándose una mano al pecho).

FULGENCIO: ¡Ay!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Ajá! ¡Un espasmo! Describidme el dolor, ¡in situ y sine qua non!

FULGENCIO: (Mirando de reojo a Isabela). Es aquí, señor dotor... en el pecho. Siento como si... como si un caballo me galopara por dentro. Y me falta el aire... ¡y me arde la cara! Sobre todo cuando... cuando hay mucha luz.

(Isabela sonríe para sus adentros y se mueve por la habitación, haciendo que Fulgencio la siga con la mirada como si fuera un girasol).

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Ignorando por completo a Isabela). ¡Lo sabía! ¡Un caso de libro de "Fiebre Volcánica del Ventrículo"! ¡Tu corazón, pobre infeliz, está a punto de hacer erupción! ¡Debemos actuar!

FULGENCIO: ¿Erupción? ¿Y... y eso es grave?

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Gravísimo! La ciencia antigua recomienda aplicar sanguijuelas en el esternón, pero yo, que estoy a la vanguardia, propongo una solución del futuro. ¡Una técnica que aún no se ha inventado! ¡Se llama operación a corazón abierto con anestesia epidural!

ISABELA: (Asombrada). ¿Abrirle el pecho como a un pollo para el asado? ¡Válgame Dios!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Silencio, mujer! Es un procedimiento delicadísimo. Reemplazaríamos su corazón enfermo por uno sano... de cerdo, a ser posible. ¡Aunque para eso necesitaríamos una máquina de rayos láser y un helicóptero para el transporte urgente del órgano!

(Al oír "abrirle el pecho", Fulgencio se pone blanco como el papel. Mira al Doctor, que ya está afilando un cuchillo de carnicero, y luego a Isabela. El pánico finalmente vence a su timidez).

FULGENCIO: (Con una voz sorprendentemente clara y fuerte). ¡Isabela!

ISABELA: (Sorprendida). ¿Sí?

FULGENCIO: (La agarra de la mano). ¡No puedo vivir sin ti ni morir con un corazón de cerdo! ¡Huyamos de este matadero!

ISABELA: ¿Huir? ¿Pero a dónde?

FULGENCIO: (Con urgencia, arrastrándola hacia la puerta). ¡No hay tiempo! ¡He llamado a un taxi! ¡Nos espera en la esquina para llevarnos a la estación y subirnos al metro con destino a Francia!

(Fulgencio e Isabela salen corriendo de la escena. El Doctor Sanguijuelo se queda quieto, con el cuchillo en la mano, completamente perplejo).

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Para sí). ¿Taxi...? ¿Metro...? ¿Qué extrañas palabras son esas? ¡Seguramente un delirio febril! ¡Los síntomas de la Fiebre Volcánica son más extraños de lo que pensaba! ¡Debo escribir un tratado sobre ello!

(Se encoge de hombros y vuelve a observar su cebolla).


Fin del Entremés del Doctor, el Tímido y la Doncella

 

**************************************************



Tres 


Entremés del Doctor Sanguijuelo


Personajes:



  • ALDONZA: Vecina del doctor. Una vieja alcahueta, sorda cuando le conviene y con la lengua más afilada que un bisturí.
  • BARTOLO: Un Simple, convencido de que sufre el mal más terrible jamás visto.

 

Decorado:

Un cuartucho que pretende ser consultorio. En una esquina, un esqueleto de atrezo al que le falta un brazo. Colgados del techo hay manojos de hierbas secas y ristras de ajos. Sobre una mesa desvencijada se amontonan frascos con líquidos de colores dudosos, sanguijuelas en un bote de cristal y extraños instrumentos de metal. Hay una única silla para el paciente.

 

(Al abrirse el telón, el DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO está solo, examinando el contenido de un orinal con gesto de profunda sabiduría).

 

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Para sí, con voz engolada). ¡Oh, ciencia infusa! ¡Oh, arte de Galeno! En esta dorada linfa se revela el desequilibrio de los humores. Claramente, el dueño de esta vejiga padece de un exceso de cólera, mezclado con viento de poniente. ¡La cura es clara! ¡Una sangría en el tobillo y un emplasto de estiércol de paloma! ¡Soy un genio!

 

(Entra ALDONZA sin llamar, con una pequeña cesta. El Doctor se sobresalta y esconde el orinal bajo la mesa).

 

ALDONZA: ¡Buenas le dé Dios, señor dotor! Que pasaba por aquí para ver si seguía vuesa merced entre los vivos. Le traigo un caldo de gallina, que dicen que aviva el seso, y a la vista está que el suyo necesita un hervor.

 

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Molesto). ¡Mujer impertinente! ¡No se entra así en el templo de la ciencia! Interrumpes una meditación profunda sobre la melancolicus putrefacta.

 

ALDONZA: (Acercándose y fisgando todo). Menos latines y más escobazos, que tiene esto lleno de telarañas. Y dígame, ¿qué mal es ese? ¿Es peor que el dolor de riñones que me sube hasta el cogote y que solo se me calma con un trago de anís?

 

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Es un mal que tu mente simple no comprendería! Ahora, si me disculpas, aguardo a un paciente con un padecimiento de suma gravedad.

 

(Llaman a la puerta con tres golpes tímidos. Aldonza se adelanta y abre de par en par, revelando a BARTOLO, un hombre joven, envuelto en una capa a pesar del calor, que mira a todos lados con espanto).

 

ALDONZA: ¡Pase, pase, buen hombre! No tema, que el dotor Sanguijuelo o le cura o le manda de viaje a la eternidad, ¡pero una solución le encuentra!

 

(Bartolo entra, encogido. Se queda de pie, sin atreverse a sentarse).

 

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Poniéndose solemne y ahuecando la voz). ¡Ajajá! ¡He aquí un alma atormentada por el flagelo de la enfermedad! Acércate, desdichado, y confiesa ante Hipócrates el mal que corroe tus entrañas.

 

BARTOLO: (En un susurro). Señor dotor… es que… me da vergüenza.

ALDONZA: (A gritos, como si Bartolo fuera sordo). ¡Vergüenza la de robar y que te pillen! ¡Hable, hombre, que no tenemos todo el día! ¿Son bubas? ¿Es mal de amores? ¿O es que se ha comido vuesa merced un membrillo verde?

BARTOLO: (Asustado por el grito). ¡No, señora, no! Es… es en el pellejo.

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Se frota las manos con emoción). ¡La piel! ¡El lienzo donde el alma dibuja sus tormentos! ¡Habla, pues!

BARTOLO: (Tragando saliva). Me están saliendo… (Mira a los lados y baja aún más la voz) …escamas.

 

(Silencio. Aldonza se persigna. El Doctor abre los ojos como platos, lleno de júbilo).

 

ALDONZA: ¡Virgen del Socorro! ¡Escamas! ¡Como las del peje diablo! ¡A este mozo le han echado un mal de ojo en la feria por mirar a la mujer del boticario!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Silencio, mujer ignorante! ¡Esto no es brujería, es ciencia! ¡Claramente padece de Dermatitis Reptiliana Saturnina! ¡Un mal rarísimo causado por un exceso de bilis negra y por haber nacido bajo un mal influjo de los astros! ¡Quítate esa capa, que debo observar la metamorfosis!

BARTOLO: (Aterrado, retrocediendo). ¡No, señor dotor! ¡Que si me da el aire, se me extiende!

 

(El Doctor Sanguijuelo, con un brillo maníaco en los ojos, intenta quitarle la capa a Bartolo. Comienza una persecución cómica alrededor de la pequeña habitación).

 

ALDONZA: ¡Sujétenlo, que se nos escapa el reptil! ¡No vaya a poner huevos!

 

(El Doctor persigue a Bartolo, que corre en círculos. En su huida, Bartolo choca con el esqueleto, que se cae a pedazos con gran estrépito de huesos. Bartolo grita).

 

BARTOLO: ¡Ay, que me quiere desollar! ¡Prefiero las escamas a sus manos!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Jadeando). ¡Es por tu bien, ignorante! ¡Debo aplicar la cura! ¡Citius, altius, fortius!

 

(El Doctor logra arrinconar a Bartolo y, con la ayuda de Aldonza que lo empuja por detrás, le arranca la capa. Bartolo queda en camisa, temblando. El Doctor le agarra un brazo y se lo sube a la altura de los ojos).

 

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: ¡Veamos la extensión del mal…!

 

(El Doctor y Aldonza se inclinan para mirar el brazo de Bartolo. Se quedan un momento en silencio. Aldonza acerca un ojo, luego el otro).

 

ALDONZA: Pero… señor dotor… si esto no es más que un sarpullido de sudor. ¡Tiene la piel más seca que un esparto, de no lavarse!

 

(En el brazo de Bartolo solo se ve un trozo de piel enrojecida y algo reseca).

 

BARTOLO: ¿Un sarpullido…? ¿Pero… no me voy a convertir en lagarto?

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Sin perder la compostura, se yergue con orgullo). ¡Claro que no! ¡Ignorantes! ¿No veis el milagro? ¡Mi sola presencia, mi aura de sanador y el intimidatio medicus han obrado la cura instantánea! ¡El pavor que os he provocado ha hecho que vuestro cuerpo expulse el humor reptiliano! ¡La enfermedad ha huido ante la majestad de la ciencia!

 

(Bartolo se mira el brazo, luego al doctor, y su cara pasa del miedo a la furia).

 

ALDONZA: ¡Milagro dice el charlatán! ¡Si lo único que ha hecho ha sido romper ese pobre esqueleto!

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Extendiendo la mano). Son diez reales por la consulta y veinte por la milagrosa y veloz curación.

BARTOLO: (Indignado). ¡Le voy a dar yo veinte palos por el susto, curandero de tres al cuarto! ¡Se ha reído de mí!

 

(Bartolo agarra una de las ristras de ajos que cuelgan del techo y empieza a perseguir al Doctor Sanguijuelo por toda la habitación, amenazándole con ella).

 

DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO: (Corriendo y esquivando los golpes). ¡Insolente! ¡Desagradecido! ¡Así se paga la sabiduría en este siglo infame!

ALDONZA: (Riendo a carcajadas mientras los ve correr). ¡Dale, mozo, dale! ¡A ver si con un par de ajazos se le quita la tontería!

 

(El Doctor Sanguijuelo, viendo una oportunidad, sale disparado por la puerta. Bartolo, enfadado, tira la ristra de ajos al suelo y sale tras él, gritando insultos. Aldonza se queda sola, negando con la cabeza mientras ríe).

 

ALDONZA: (Al público). Vaya par de mentecatos. Uno que ve lagartos donde hay roña, y el otro que ve enfermedades donde hay dineros. En fin, me llevo el caldo, que para el cerebro de este no hay remedio. ¡Y tengo una nueva que contar en el mercado!

 

(Aldonza coge su cesta, le da una patada a la calavera del esqueleto que ha rodado por el suelo, y sale muy contenta por la puerta).

 

FIN DEL ENTREMÉS DEL DOCTOR SANGUIJUELO




FIN 

DE LOS TRES 

ENTREMESES

ANACRÓNICOS


Dress Rehearsal for the End of the World (with Canapés and an Existential Crisis) A meta-theatrical play in one act By Ben Atrapados en el metro Comedia Versiones en español e inglés por Ben GAVARRE

 


 Benjamín Gavarre

 

 

Dress Rehearsal for the End of the World (with Canapés and an Existential Crisis)

A meta-theatrical play in one act

By Ben GAVARRE

This work has been published for free and open dissemination, although all intellectual property rights are reserved. Public use of this work requires permission from the author and for permission contact bengavarre@gmail.com or gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Inbox)

 


"The Actors" and their Characters

  • CLARA: (Plays LIMANTOUR) The group's unofficial director.
  • SOFÍA: (Plays POLANCO) Energetic and intuitive.
  • ANA: (Plays ESCANDÓN) Insecure, but deep down empathetic and stubborn.
  • LEO: (Plays HERNÁNDEZ) Thoughtful and grounded.
  • MATEO: (Plays ALFARO) Charismatic and provocative.
  • MR. BENÍTEZ: A confused old neighbor.

SETTING

A rehearsal space that could be the living room of an apartment. It is an ordered chaos: a pair of designer chairs cast aside, a coat rack with a few costume pieces, a table with half-drunk coffees and highlighted scripts. In the center, a pair of rehearsal blocks. There is a main door leading to an outside hallway, which is slightly ajar.

(The scene begins. CLARA, SOFÍA, and ANA are on their feet, fully in their characters of LIMANTOUR, POLANCO, and ESCANDÓN at an exclusive party.) (The other actors, LEO and MATEO, maintain a low profile, observing the rehearsal or studying their scripts.)

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): Well, changing the subject to more important things... Have you seen you-know-who's cousin? Poor thing, ever since her marriage fell apart, it's like she's invisible. Nobody even says hello to her. Anyway... didn't the same thing happen to Lulú De la Lama? It's just to die for. I think she signed checks or promissory notes... something from, like, the last century... I bet she still used a fax machine and a landline.

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): (Tasting an imaginary canapé with disdain) Is this about the divorce, or is it something new? Gossip, like fish, must be served fresh, darling. And remember the first rule of this world: either you're the one eating the canapé, or you are the canapé. Our dear cousin chose to be a forgotten hors d'oeuvre.

ANA (as ESCANDÓN): Yes! That divorce thing is so intense! I saw them at the club two weeks ago, and they looked so... like nothing was wrong!

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): (Interrupting her with a gesture) That's just the tip of the iceberg! It turns out the husband didn't leave her for another woman... He left her for the tennis coach. A twenty-five-year-old stud! A total gym shark, literally.

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): Predictable. Mr. De la Lama always had that... knack for showing his preference for young men and his distaste for being in a forced marriage... And you know, he's not the only case of men or women with triple lives. They should just declare themselves polyamorous instead of looking like complete idiots trying to be something they're not. I mean, if you're going to marry for the zip code, at least go to acting school to pass for straight. Or just come out of the closet already. No one is shocked these days if you're a faggot or a lesbian.

ANA (as ESCANDÓN): You can't use those words anymore. They told me they're inappropriate and offensive. Now you have to say LG... T-U-V-X-Y-Z.

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): No, darling, as usual, you're misinformed. And if I want to call them whatever I please, I have every right and freedom to do so, and that's that.

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): But wait, Clara! You don't know that Lulú—you know, the Lulú—got her face done by the "Butcher of Bogotá"... (She pauses dramatically and touches up an invisible lipstick). And she's pulled so tight that when she smiles, her left eyebrow shoots up and her lip twists... Tragic.

CLARA: And... Cut!

(The three instantly break character. The energy shifts.)

CLARA: Good. The venomous synchronicity is there. Ana, I liked your attempt at naivete, but I need you to be even more of a doormat. Your character doesn't have the right to an opinion yet. The character's profound ignorance can be fun, but that's not the point here. It's not about making the characters likable; it's about being a mirror of the reality they believe they live in.

(As they talk, Ana glances toward the main door, which is ajar.)

ANA: Hey... did someone leave the door open? I could have sworn I saw a shadow pass by.

CLARA: (Without looking) It's a draft, Ana. Focus. Alright, Leo and Mateo, you're up. From the top of your scene.

(LEO and MATEO get up and do warm-up movements. MATEO stretches like a gazelle, emphasizing his physique. LEO makes facial movements, opening and closing his mouth to prepare to speak.)

MATEO: Brutal, ladies. Now, for our entrance. Let's discuss strategy. My Alfaro isn't a seducer; he's an anthropologist. His goal is to study this tribe of elegant savages.

LEO: And my Hernández is the counterpart. We're a team. Alfaro is like my battering ram and my shield...

MATEO: And Hernández is my All-Access Pass into this world of soulless vultures who either want to screw me or kill me... I mean, Alfaro.

CLARA: Correct. Let's go. From the introduction. Action!

(The lighting changes subtly. LEO and MATEO enter the "party.")

LEO (as HERNÁNDEZ): Well, well. The whole conclave. May I ask who you're excommunicating tonight? I'm sorry to interrupt what was undoubtedly a dissection-without-anesthesia of some mutual friend. Allow me to introduce a man whose talents are inversely proportional to his modesty: Braulio Alfaro.

MATEO (as ALFARO): A pleasure. Though I'm afraid I'm interrupting a conversation of the utmost importance.

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): We were discussing the pros and cons of modern servitude.

MATEO (as ALFARO): Really?... I'm sure if it's not high-society gossip, it's the inconveniences of the lower classes... Ah, the classic dilemma: do we respect those who serve us, or do we pay them enough to keep their mouths shut? My opinion? Loyalty is earned, not hired. Or is that idea too... revolutionary for this room?

(He says this with a smile so charming that the women laugh, nervous and disarmed.)

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): Oh, how profound! Let's talk about something trivial instead! Culture, for example!

(Clara blows a whistle... The light turns the characters into silhouettes making elaborate movements... The dialogues overlap. The following are suggestions, but they are improvised quickly and cacophonously):

ANA (as ESCANDÓN): ...Osho just changes your life.

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): Life is Elsewhere, by Kundera, or The Unbearable Lightness of Being... What a title! So long...

LEO (as HERNÁNDEZ): I prefer MurakamiTokyo Blues is a masterpiece.

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): Oh, no! How cliché! Poetry is better. Octavio Paz!

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): You're all talk, Polanco. Don't be such a snob.

MATEO (as ALFARO): (Smiling) T. S. Eliot is the best... It must be pronounced Tee... Ess... Eliot... with an English accent.

(The light returns to normal. Clara is no longer using the whistle; it's Sofía (as Polanco) who interrupts forcefully:)

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): Enough about culture! I don't want to anymore! I said so!

LEO (as HERNÁNDEZ): I want to do a cultured podcast, really cultured.

MATEO (as ALFARO): I want to do an OnlyFans, or if not, a pornoentucasa... (Falsely, with affectation) the app, you understand, right?

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): I want my ten seconds of fame! Not even the fifteen minutes that guy talked about!

ANA (as ESCANDÓN): Who?

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): Warhol, Ana. Andy Warhol.

ANA (as ESCANDÓN): Oh! Phew, I'm not that old. He's from the 60s, right? I wasn't even born!

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): It shows, darling. Your ignorance is insultingly young.

MATEO (as ALFARO, to CLARA/LIMANTOUR): Madam, you insult the uncultured lady so often, it would seem you wish to court her...

(CLARA (the actress and de facto director) GETS ANNOYED BY THE LAST COMMENT AND BLOWS THE WHISTLE)

CLARA: Cut! It's not working. Mateo, what's with you? This isn't a Spanish Golden Age play! And what's this about me wanting to court her?... Ana is foolish, we know that, I mean, her character Escandón is not very believable. It needs something more organic, more... more... skin. Five minutes. Just five.

(The actors relax. MATEO takes off his rehearsal shirt.)

MATEO: Phew, I was roasting in here.

SOFÍA: (Without looking up from her phone) You're not fooling anyone, Mateo. Rehearsal is just an excuse for your strip show. Tone down the ego.

CLARA: (With a weary sigh) Same old story, Mateo. If you're not the center of attention, you don't exist.

(Ignoring her, Mateo goes to the Bluetooth speaker and puts on a very sexy song, an icon of male striptease. He performs his act with virtuosity; everyone feels a mix of admiration and annoyance, especially Clara. Mateo turns up the volume. Now he begins to move slowly, exaggeratedly. He poses, flexes his muscles, and looks directly at Clara and Sofía with a provocative smile.)

CLARA: Can you turn that crap off, please? This is a rehearsal, not a strip club in Acapulco.

MATEO: (Dancing) I'm exploring my character's erotic range! Alfaro is a peacock, he needs to show off his feathers!

SOFÍA: Well, your "peacock" looks more like a small-town fighting cock. It lacks class.

(Ana, uncomfortable, sits in a corner. Leo watches Mateo with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. While Mateo continues his "show," Ana approaches Sofía.)

ANA: Your hair got a little tangled in the back with all the movement. Need help?

(Ana gently begins to untangle a lock of Sofía's hair. It's a gesture of camaraderie amid Mateo's chaos.)

MATEO: (Lowering the music but still posing) Ah! I knew it! Observe the grooming ritual. What's happening is that little Escandón doesn't just admire the great Polanco... she likes her! She's in love with her!

SOFÍA: (Unfazed) So what if I am? You got a problem not being the center of attention?

MATEO: Not at all. In fact, now everything makes sense. (He turns to Leo). And you... it's not that you admire my character. It's that... You want a piece of me.

(Mateo approaches Leo, wraps an arm around his neck, and gets very close in a parody of seduction.)

LEO: (Laughing at first) Get off me, you idiot.

MATEO: (Persisting, using a jokingly seductive voice) Come on, don't play hard to get. I know you're dying for this... tempting body.

SOFÍA: (Shouting from across the room) Careful, Leo! His nose is turned up and his smile is wide! That's the sign he's serious!

(Mateo smiles even wider, accentuating the turned-up nose gesture as he looks to the sky. But the joke has gone too far for Leo.)

LEO: (In a firm, low voice, shoving Mateo's arm away) Alright, Mateo. Knock it off. Seriously. Not everything's a joke. I'm warning you.

MATEO: Is this really happening? I can't believe it.

(The atmosphere freezes. The shift in Leo's tone is real. Mateo takes a step back. There is genuine tension between the two friends.)

CLARA: (Clapping once, sharply) Perfect. Five minutes are up. Since our colleague is so... inspired by his body, let's do an exercise. It's called the "Power Walk." Imagine it's the red carpet of the most exclusive event. Your walk defines your status. Who dominates and who is invisible. I want to see the characters, not you. Sofía, you start. You are Polanco, the queen of the socialites. Devour the world.

(Appropriate music, like from a cosmopolitan fashion show, plays. Sofía transforms. She walks through the center of the room as if on a runway. Her gaze is haughty; she blows kisses into the air, pulls out an imaginary phone for a perfect selfie. It is a masterclass in charismatic superficiality.)

CLARA: Yes! That's it! Fake, plastic, perfect! Next. Mateo, your turn. You are Alfaro, the alpha male who knows he owns the place.

(Mateo accepts the challenge. His theme music plays... something like house music... His walk is a display of arrogance. He walks slowly, hands in his pockets, looking down on everyone. He stops midway, laughs to himself, and shakes his head, as if everything seems mediocre to him. He is obnoxious and magnetic.)

CLARA: Good. Project that effortless power. Ana, you're up. You are Escandón, desperate to fit in. But you are gray.

(Carnival music plays. Ana tries to walk, but she looks small, hesitant. Her shoulders are slumped, her gaze seeking approval. She is painfully vulnerable.)

CLARA: (Mercilessly) No, Ana. Not like that. You look like you're asking for permission to exist. It's pathetic. Off. Sit down.

(Ana, humiliated, retreats to a chair. Her eyes fill with tears. She opens her mouth to retort, a tremor of rage running through her body, but in the end, she closes it, swallowing her words in a gesture of defeat.)

CLARA: Leo. You close. You are Hernández. You've just seen your friend Alfaro humiliate everyone and watched this poor girl get torn apart. Use that rage. Show me the power of moral indignation. Walk!

(Tribal music, drums. Leo stands up. There is real fury in his eyes. He begins to walk. But it's not a character's walk. It's his own. His steps are heavy, his jaw is tight. He doesn't project power; he projects pain, frustration. It is a moment of brutal honesty from an actor who can no longer pretend. He stops and looks at Clara, defiant.)

CLARA: (After an icy silence) CUT!

(The shout is sharp, full of disappointment.)

CLARA: No, Leo. Just no. What was that? That's not power, it's a tantrum! You looked like a lost kid looking for his mom in the supermarket. Zero status. Zero control. Pathetic!

LEO: (Exploding, all the pent-up tension surfacing) I was being honest! I was using what happened right here, what you yourself asked for!

MATEO: (Intervening, furious at the attack on his friend) He was doing it incredibly, Clara! For the first time, someone achieves something meaningful, and you sabotage it out of envy.

CLARA: (Confronting Mateo) This isn't your group therapy session, Mateo! It's my vision! It's done my way, period!

MATEO: Oh, really? The "unofficial director" has spoken? How convenient! You're a theater Karen, you know that? You always have to be right, even when you're wrong! Such basic narcissism.

CLARA: You're a mediocre provocateur! An exhibitionist who thinks he's an artist! The only thing you care about is your damn perfect abs!

MATEO: Do you hear yourself? You're contradicting yourself: am I mediocre or am I perfect? You want a real analysis, "director"? You don't hate me, you desire me. And since you can't have me, you try to destroy me. It's the most basic narcissism there is. Study yourself, you witch!

(In a fit of rage, Mateo grabs a script from the table and throws it at Clara. It misses her, but the script explodes into a shower of pages. Ana stifles a scream. Leo steps between them.)

LEO: THAT'S ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU, STOP!

(There is a dense, heavy silence. They all look at each other, breathing heavily. The real fight has left them exposed.)

LEO: (Calmer, taking a step back and observing them) ...You see. Right there. That's the moment you got lost in your roles. You, Clara, became Limantour: controlling, cold, dictatorial. And you, Mateo, you got carried away by Alfaro's bravado. You let the characters eat you alive. The point isn't just realizing it... it's changing your attitude.

CLARA: (After a pause, her mind processing. She nods slowly) He's right. The power struggle... it's the same one from the play.

SOFÍA: (Stepping forward, taking control with a new, decisive energy) Okay, yes, he's right. But we can't just stand here resenting each other. Let's use this energy. Let's use this... crap. I have an idea for a new scene. One that's not in the script.

(Everyone looks at her, expectant.)

SOFÍA: We're going to improvise. Our characters, Limantour, Alfaro, all of them... they're going to therapy. Or something like it. An "intervention" in a neutral space. A park. To "raise consciousness."

MATEO: (Skeptical) Therapy? Our characters? They'll eat each other alive.

SOFÍA: Exactly! That's the drama! Let's see what happens when these narcissistic monsters are forced to "share their feelings." Clara, Mateo, the rage you're feeling right now... don't let it go. Give it to Limantour and Alfaro. Let's go.

(Sofía begins to reconfigure the space. She moves two blocks to resemble a park bench. She places a prop plant nearby.)

SOFÍA: Here. This is a zen garden. Or a discreet corner of a beautiful park. There are trees, birds, peace. We are in a safe space. I, as Polanco, will guide the session. Because, of course, Polanco just took a weekend diploma course in mindfulness and now she thinks she's a therapist. Ready? From... now. Action!

(The lighting changes slightly, becoming softer. The actors assume their characters again, but with the real tension still vibrating underneath. They sit in a circle in the "park.")

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): (With a soft, slightly affected voice) Well, it's just divine that we're giving ourselves this space to connect. I feel like lately, there have been... conflicting energies. And I want us all to validate our feelings. Escandón, darling, why don't you start? Share with us how Limantour makes you feel.

ANA (as ESCANDÓN): (With trembling sincerity, looking at Clara) Well... sometimes I feel... like you don't see me. That no matter what I say, it's always going to be wrong. I feel like to you... I'm a nobody. And that hurts.

(It is a moment of real vulnerability. Leo nods, moved.)

CLARA (as LIMANTOUR): (Instead of responding, she analyzes coldly) Fascinating. A textbook manifestation of an inferiority complex projected onto an authority figure. Dramaturgically speaking, it's a bit cliché, but as a starting point for your character arc, I suppose it works.

ANA: (As Ana, hurt) It's not a character arc, Clara! That's how you make me feel!

SOFÍA (as POLANCO): (Intervening quickly) Thank you for sharing, Escandón! Clara, thank you for that... feedback. Alfaro, your turn. How do you feel in this ecosystem?

MATEO (as ALFARO): (He smiles, predatory. He doesn't look at Sofía, but directly at Clara) I feel... very stimulated. I feel a fascinating tension in the air. Especially from Limantour. I sense a need for control that is so... palpable. It's like armor. I wonder what would happen if someone found a crack in it. If someone helped her... relax. To release all that contained energy.

(The insinuation is both personal and part of the character. The line has been completely blurred.)

CLARA: (Abandoning Limantour completely, her voice pure ice) Don't you dare psychoanalyze me, Mateo. Not me, not the character. You're not as smart as you think you are.

MATEO: (As Mateo, but with Alfaro's arrogance) See? Right there! You're hiding behind the character! You can't stand someone seeing the real you! The great Clara, the intellectual, the perfect director! You're terrified that people will find out you're nothing more than an insecure control freak!

CLARA: And you're an empty peacock! A textbook narcissist who needs everyone's approval because deep down you know you have nothing to offer but a pretty body!

(The "intervention" has failed spectacularly. The energy is now uglier than before, colder and more calculated. Leo stands up.)

LEO: That's enough. Sofía, it didn't work. This just made it worse.

(The exercise dissolves. They sit in a hostile, defeated silence. The spiral has led them to a dead end. It is at this precise moment of total failure that the main door opens completely.)

(MR. BENÍTEZ enters. He is a confused old man. He is in pajamas and slippers, completely lost. His appearance is simultaneously pathetic, comical, and absurd.)

MR. BENÍTEZ: Excuse me... Is breakfast ready yet? Marta told me to wait here.

(The five actors freeze. The contrast between their complex, toxic drama and the old man's simple, human need is brutal.)

MATEO: (In a low voice) Who is this guy?

ANA: (Approaching cautiously) Sir, are you alright? Who is Marta?

CLARA: (Annoyed, but her hostility now sounds hollow, almost ashamed) Sir, you can't be in here. We're rehearsing.

MR. BENÍTEZ: (To Clara) Are you the new nurse? You have an unfriendly face.

SOFÍA: (Trying not to laugh) I think the gentleman is a little disoriented.

LEO: Here, sir, sit down. (He guides him to a chair). Would you like some water?

(Leo gives him a bottle of a sports drink. Mr. Benítez takes a long drink. He seems to come to his senses.)

MR. BENÍTEZ: Ah... thank you. How kind. I must have gotten the wrong floor. My apartment is 502. It happens sometimes.

SOFÍA: We're 602. You're our downstairs neighbor.

ANA: We've never seen you before.

MR. BENÍTEZ: (Smiling sadly) Nobody sees old people. We're invisible. Well, I won't take up any more of your time. Thanks for the drink, really.

(Mr. Benítez stands up and exits as quietly as he entered. The five actors remain in a silence even deeper than before, but this time it isn't hostile. It's reflective. Humble.)

MATEO: (Breaking the silence, softly) Well... now that was a turning point.

CLARA: (She looks at the mess of pages on the floor. Her voice has lost all its harshness. For the first time, she smiles genuinely) Let's forget about performing our drama for now. It's a minor issue... compared to how truly hard reality can be. Let's forget everything. Let's go to the finale.

ANA: (Excited, with a new light in her eyes) The musical number?

SOFÍA: (With a renewed, healing energy) Yes! The musical number!

MATEO: Now that's a tango I'll dance to.

LEO: No doubt about it. The cosmos sent us a message.

(Mateo runs to the speaker and puts on an 80s pop song at full volume. The light changes. The five, completely as themselves, look at each other, share a knowing laugh, and launch themselves into the center of the stage.)

(They begin the musical number. Now it's not just a happy ending; it's a catharsis. It's the recognition of their own ridiculousness and the celebration of their imperfect, resilient connection.)

ALL:

(Singing)

If life is a rehearsal and the world a giant hall,

And a neighbor might appear, looking for the dining call!

If your ego starts to rule you, or a Karen you become,

Just take a breath and see your silly dramas leave you numb!

This was the end of the world with canapés and with all spite!

But at the end of the day... it's just theater and friendship's light! Thank you!

(They end in a final pose, sweaty, happy, and looking at the audience. They laugh, not as actors, but as people who have just survived something together.)

(END)


EL CABALLERO DE OLMEDO

EL CABALLERO DE OLMEDO
Lope de Vega

DIENTES BLANCOS

DIENTES BLANCOS
Demetrio Aguilera Malta

PAVEL vs LEPAV

PAVEL vs LEPAV
EL ALFILER DEL DIABLO

Night Shift

EL MÁGICO PRODIGIOSO

EL MÁGICO PRODIGIOSO
PEDRO CALDERÓN DE LA BARCA

Monosapiens

Monosapiens
MONOLOGUE