A gaggle of vampires went shopping.
But they couldn’t get the automatic door to open.
The Monkey knows you’ve been cheating on your diet.
The Monkey knows the nickname that girl in 5th grade made up for you.
The Monkey knows what happened at the Nutcracker all those years ago.
The Monkey knows some of your deductions last year were a little sketchy.
The Monkey knows what you were dreaming about when you woke up at 4 AM.
The Monkey knows what you hid in the basement behind the hot water heater.
The Monkey knows all these things…
…but still has no idea where he put his keys.
INT. MEXICAN EXTRADITION PRISON (CELL 443) – DAY
ETHAN, A SKINNY 20-YEAR OLD MURDERER, AND EL CHAPO, A MIDDLE-AGED DRUG KINGPIN, ARE BOTH ON THEIR HANDS AND KNEES SCRATCHING AT THE CEMENT WALL OF THEIR CELL WITH PLASTIC SPORKS, TRYING TO DIG AN ESCAPE HOLE. BOTH WEAR ORANGE JUMPSUITS.
Okay this is kind of a lot more physically laborious than
I thought it would be.
Silencio! Los guardias…
For the last time- I don’t speak Mexican, Mr. Chapo.
EL Chapo! It’s EL Chapo. It means– don’t worry what it
means, hombrecito. Just keep digging. And it’s Espanol!
We don’t speak Mexican, we speak Span- forget it.
THEY DIG FOR ANOTHER MINUTE.
My spork’s getting bent. I need a new one.
We don’t have a new one. That spork cost me ten
million pesos in bribe money.
ETHAN’S EYES LIGHT UP- HE REACHES INTO HIS POCKET NAD PULLS OUT A HUGE WAD OF MEXICAN MONEY.
My mom gave me some rainy day money- do you think I could
get one of the guards to dig my escape tunnel for me?
EL CHAPO STARES AT THE WAD.
I– no. I mean… maybe. But this is something you
should do for yourself, Ethan.
Because you’ll never truly appreciate breaking out of prison
unless you do the work yourself. You must earn your
stolen freedom, my little murderer.
I’m not a murderer. I’m a vehicular homicide-er.
EL CHAPO PUTS HIS HAND ON THE YOUNG MAN’S SHOULDER.
Man, I could really go for some Jagermeister… or
some Fireball cinnamon whiskey.
Estupido. There is no candy-flavored liquor for you here! We
need to hurry! We could be extradited to los Estados Unitos tomorrow…
I mean probably not, it will probably be like a year or maybe– WAIT!
THEY BOTH FREEZE AS THEY HEAR THE GUARD COMING.
Oh I hope he’s bringing nachos… my mom always brings
Back to your bunk! Act normal!
ETHAN STARES AT HIM BLANKLY.
EL CHAPO (CONT’D)
Okay, as normal as you get. Go!
THE GUARD COMES TO THE BARS AND ETHAN AND EL CHAPO ARE RELAXING ON THEIR BUNKS. ETHAN IS PRETENDING TO BE ASLEEP, MAKING REALLY FAKE SNORING SOUNDS. THE GUARD STARES AT THEM FOR A MOMENT.
Are you two digging an escape tunnel?
ETHAN POPS UP- WIDE AWAKE.
Escape tunnel? ESCAPE TUNNEL??? Don’t be RIDICULOUS!
A little less, por favor.
UNSURE WHAT TO DO, ETHAN GOES BACK TO PRETENDING TO SNORE.
Okay, hand them over…
WITH A SIGH ETHAN AND EL CHAPO BOTH RELUCTANTLY SURRENDER THEIR SPORKS.
HE TURNS AND LEAVES. ETHAN AND EL CHAPO SIT DEJECTEDLY ON THEIR RESPECTIVE BUNKS.
Great. Now what are we supposed to do to kill time?
HE LOOKS OVER AND REALIZES EL CHAPO IS STARING AT HIM AND SMILING.
END OF I/1.
A man stands on a blank stage.
“MURDERER!” he yells at another man who stands across from him.
[the man who stands across is slightly taller]
In reply, the tall man takes out a small silver dog whistle and, putting it to his lips, blows a piercing shrill silent blast upon it [which the audience almost imagines they can hear].
Several members of the audience become enraged at the sound. Others commence performing strange acts including but not limited to:
covering their ears,
hiding under their seats,
stuffing their programs in their mouths,
A silence comes over the theatre, and the first man [the shorter one] chants the first stanza of an old dirty limerick to his opposite.
“There once was a young man named Enos…”
[the opposite man tries to imagine the next line of the limerick]
“Whose genitalia was disproportionately large.”
Many in attendance rise and leave the theatre.
End of Act 1.