Character for a play.

Posted: September 8, 2012 in Uncategorized

The monlogue below was orginally written by Ernesto Moncada as a part of one of his Arcana Collective performances.   He wrote the piece for me orginally and then I have heavily edited it.



A rhythm made by snapping fingers off stage marks the entrance of Apocalypse Man, who comes in holding the Book of Lies. The snapping fingers are cut when Apocalypse Man slams the Book of Lies in the table and opens it.


One of these days, the world is going to end.

Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow but someday all of this, you and me included, will stop being what it is now to become something else, something entirely different, something brand new.

And when that happens, my friend, when the giant life-turd hits the fan with such force that it breaks the god-damned thing to shit-covered pieces, you will find out just how meaningless concepts like comfort and leisure really are, and you will remember basic happiness: To eat something delicious, to sleep in warmth, to express your thoughts and feelings with your own body and voice.

Our world, this one, fragile. Like a drunk fucking egg balancing on a tall dilapidated wall! Nuclear fallout, zombies, virus outbreaks, extreme weather conditions, social breakdown, the collapse of ATMs, the Second-fucking-Coming… Anything could shake it down! Even the most insignificant thing! The sting of a jellyfish under the full moon can trigger Armageddon if you let it!

After another sip and a drag, the man beholds what is written in the open pages in front of him and reads.

This is what the Book of Lies tells us: “Our very own underworld, so tiny and beautiful, collapses under the incredible weight of unattainable expectations.”

So, (with mockery), the future is dead… according to the Book of Lies, of course. As if we did not suspect it all along.

Well, to hell with the Book of Lies and its bullshit humanism! To hell with society’s codes of conduct! If the end of times is in fact imminent and completely out of our control, then all we have left is our God-given/Devil-approved Right of taking off our pants when things get bona fide weird!

Man leaves stage un-panted. Ashley enters with sign that says “Time passes.” flips it over and it says “That Time Passed” Or any other distraction that can represent disaster and allows for quick costume change.


Ladies and Gentlemen, Oppenheimer’s destroyer of worlds has arrived! It came like the mother of all storms, meaning business and looking the part! No one escaped its spanking.

I have encountered hostile, ugly ghettos built over dilapidated old office spaces, some with marginal resources and others with no resources at all. Barely tribes with flags; more like anarchic frat houses. I’ve seen Walmarts turned into towering fortresses! I’ve seen a pirate ship made out of super-market carts riding the highway! I’ve seen packs of hungry mutated guinea pigs ambush my-fellow travelers!

The man pulls out flask.

I toast for my long-lost treasures! To my house by the mountains, surrounded by wild roosters and cowardly neighbors; to my faithful car turned mobile fallout shelter; to the mysterious technology that connected us to the rest of the world; to the cooling system, the heather, the fridge and the stove; to the territory I always called mine even though it never really was: Salud!

The man takes a drink from his flask.

Faceless strangers and long lost friends, I bring sad news tonight: The on-going end of the world is not actually the “end of times”… Time, it turns out, just continues! An endless succession of empty minutes followed by what it seems like eons of unremarkable hours…

Man takes another pull and returns flask to pouch. The man goes for another pouch and, without even looking, takes out a tobacco pouch and rolling paper.

My friend, Say goodbye to your comic-book collection! Kiss your pornography goodbye! Bid farewells to your trophies and your jewels! You won’t need Hollywood, where we are heading next! Trust me: the future is no place for your Chihuahua!

Begins to roll cig.

To hell with your coffee grinder and your espresso machine! To hell with your smart-phone and your dumb waterbed! To hell with your electric fence and your silent alarms! To hell with your armored vehicle and your automatic weapons!

Calms down while he licks the rolled cigarette, contemplating it with pride.

We must become human cockroach ready to surf the electro-magnetic shock waves.

Continues to roll cig.

And you’re mistaken if you think this is all about what kind of gear you can get your hands on because you will need more than that to survive the end of days! You will need humor. Lots of it! You will need wits. Tons of them! And you definitely will need love… Even if it’s just a little bit, at least a quarter-full canteen to make it through the loneliness.

Ready to light up, Apocalypse Man looks for a lighter somewhere in his backpack. He rummages in several pouches with no avail. Sighing in frustration, with the un-lit tobacco caught between his lips, he gives up the search.

In the Apocalypse there are no unsolvable problems, only complicated situations; there is a difference and it is a rather important one.

He puts a hand inside one of the pouches again but this time he takes something out: Two stones.

Every crisis teaches you something valuable. There is a lesson behind each challenge; wisdom for tears is not a sorry-ass deal.

He takes a stone in each hand and starts to strike them against each other near the tip of the cigarette. He continues doing this, patiently, as he walks off stage.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s