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Brechtian Anti-Capitalist Theatre by Nick Zagone

(All the following characters have signs around their neck indicating their character name)
BANK (Female)
RETAILER (Preferably Andy Kaempher)
SALESMAN (Could be played by the same person that playes LAWYER)
UPS ANGEL (Could also be played by the same person that plays LAWYER. Preferably any male actor who was in "Angels in America.")

NOTE: This should be highly stylized, with all the actors saying most of their lines to the audience.

[Lights up on BOB with some drawings.]

BOB: Eureka ! I love Capitalism! I’m Bob. And I’ve finally finished the plans for a prototype of my new invention. It will help all human kind! And it will make me rich! It’s a called a Whats-it! I need to start mass producing it immediately. Hmm. What I need is a manufacturer! [A MANUFACTUER wearing a three piece suit and LABORER wearing overalls enter arm in arm.] Hey! You’re a manufacturer! [Approaching.] Can you manufacture this!?

MANUFACTUER: [Looking at Whats-it.] What? Hmm. Depends. I don’t know. Do I know you?

BOB: No.

MANUFACTURER: [Giving back Whats-it.] Fuck off.

BOB: Now what do I do?

LABORER: [Shaking hands with BOB.] Bob! How ya doin’! Remember me?

BOB: No.

LABORER: I’m your friend! I work my ass off for this Manufacturer to earn worthless stock options.

BOB: Well maybe you can help me. I invented this Whats-it and I need to manufacture it.

LABORER: Sure! I can help you! I can get my manufacturer to produce OUR invention buddy. You got a lawyer?

BOB: No.

LABORER: You don’t? Wait. Are you sure I know you? Who are you? I don’t know you. Fuck off.

MANUFACTURER: You heard the man. Fuck off!

[LAWYER runs in.]

LAWYER: Hey! You need a lawyer? You need a lawyer? I’m a lawyer. I’ll help you. I would fuck a goat for your money. You got money? You got money? Huh?

BOB: Um. I got some money.

LAWYER: I need a lot of money. A lot of money! You know what I’m sayin’?  A lot of money. But don’t worry, I know where you can get a lot of money. The Bank. The Bank will loan you some.

BOB: Oh. Well. Who’s the Bank?

[Sultry music. A dark tall woman with dark glasses struts in and stands center. She has a sign that says “Bank” around her neck.]

BANK: Who’s next?

[The others push and prod BOB to approach the BANK.]

BOB: Hi.

BANK: Fuck off.

BOB: I need some money see and you’re a Bank and…

BANK: What’d I say Fuck-chop? Fuck. Off!

BOB: I got good credit.

BANK: [Walking around BOB now checking him out. Looking down his pants.] Got any collateral?

BOB: I got this Whats-it.

BANK: Let me confer with my lawyer. [LAWYER and BANK make out.] Okay, I’ve conferred with my lawyer. Sign here. [BOB signs a contract. BANK gives him a wad of money.] Now go out there and sell OUR Whats-it partner-- or I rip your dick off! Here’s a lawyer. [Pushes lawyer to BOB and is about to exit, but comes back.] Excuse me. I need my fee. [Takes some of BOB’s money. And exits.]

BOB: Okay. Now what?

LAWYER: Don’t you worry buddy. Got it all under control.

[LAWYER crosses to LABORER and MANUFACTURER and begins pantomiming sex with them doggie-style.]

LAWYER: Hi! I’m Bob’s lawyer! We’d like you to manufacture Bob’s Whats-it! Of course you’ll get paid incredibly and become an automatic partner in the invention leaving my client Bob with a very small percentage. You okay with that?

LABORER and MANUFACTURER: Sure! We love Bob! We love you! We think you’re great! Where do we sign!

LAWYER: [Pulling out contract.] Right here!

LABORER and MANUFACTURER: [Signing.] Great! No problem! We’ll begin manufacturing OUR product right away!

[LAWYER crosses to BOB and takes a bunch of money from BOB’s stash.]

LAWYER: Pleasure doing business with you. [Exits.]


BOB: So. Here you go! Here’s my Whats-It! When are you going to start mass producing it?

LABORER: Never! Fuck off!

[LABORER plops down and sits on the floor, pouting.]

BOB: What happened?

MANUFACTURER: Sorry. Seems my Laborer is on strike.

LABORER: Damn straight! More money pig!

BOB: Now what do we do?

MANUFACTURER: Well we need labor to build your Whats-it. I know! We’ll get cheap foreign labor!

[Enter a bare foot little girl in rags as CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR.]

CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR: Hello. I’m cheap foreign labor. I’m so destitute I would gladly eat my own feces to build your cheap American crap.

MANUFACTURER: [Giving her the Whats-it.] Here. Build this Whats-it in your sweatshop.

CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR: Will you feed me?

MANUFACTURER: You’ll get nothing and like it! Now get the hell out of here, and don’t come back till you’re done! [Exit CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR.] See? No problem.

[Offstage we hear “KISS MY ASS! COME ON! KISS IT!”]

BOB: What’s that?

[We hear “That’s right! Get down on your hands and knees and kiss my ass!”]

MANUFACTURER: Oh no. That’s who we have to sell your Whats-it to.

BOB: Who?

MANUFACTURER: It’s the Large Retail Chain Store!

[Enter Andy Kaempher with a SALESMAN kissing his ass.]

RETAILER: That’s right! Kiss it again!

BOB: Who’s that kissing his ass?

MANUFACTURER: My salesman. He’s trying to sell your Whats-it to a 200 store chain.

SALESMAN: Please Mr. Retailer. Please buy my manufacturers product.

RETAILER: Pucker up weasel boy and kiss it! Kiss it one more time!


RETAILER: Kiss it!

[SALESMAN kisses.]

SALESMAN: Will you buy it now Mr. Retailer?

RETAILER: Let me think. No. No I won’t, now get the hell out of here.


SALESMAN: You know. I think he’s about to buy. I got a feeling…

MANUFACTURER: Sorry boy. You’re fired. Get out of here. [Before salesman leaves.] Wait. Here.

[MANUFACTURER takes some of BOB’S money and gives it to SALESMAN.]

BOB: But he didn’t sell anything.

MANUFACTURER: It’s his expense check! Hey, who’s selling our product here, me or you?

BOB: So now what do we do? I don’t think he’s going to buy my Whats-it.

MANUFACTURER: It’s time to call in the big guns.

BOB: Who’s that?

[MANUFACTURER whistles. Enter a gorgeous female dressed like hooker with the sign “Advertising” around her neck. She stands center.]

MANUFACTURER: Our evil Retailer is no match for Major Corporate Advertising and Marketing. Go to it hon.

ADVERTISING: [Approaching Retailer.] Want to buy this new Whats-it?

RETAILER: Depends. Do I know the Manufacturer?

ADVERTISING: No. But you know me. I’m everywhere.

RETAILER: Is everybody else going to sell it too? I don’t want to take a chance if…

ADVERTISING: Everybody’s going to want a piece of me.

RETAILER: Will I get a kick back?

ADVERTISING: Oh I always kick and scream and moan and…

RETAILER: All right! I’ll buy it!

ADVERTISING: [Breaking from RETAILER. To MANUFACTURER:] Okay Fuck-chop he’s buyin’ give me my money there pimp daddy.

[MANUFACTUER takes some of BOB’S money and gives it to ADVERTISING.]

MANUFACTURER: You did good, go work the other side of the street will ya?

ADVERTISING: Piss off. [Hides money down the front of her dress and exits.]

RETAILER: So when can you ship me this Whats-it? And you better make it quick before I change my mind.

MANUFACTURER: Just a sec! Hey little girl! Where’s my Whats-it! Chop-chop! [CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR runs in and collapses exhausted with Whats-it.] Hey? Where’s our order? Where’s all our Whats-its?

CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR: CIA sponsored American Imperialism infiltrating into my country in order to overthrow a peaceful dictator has caused the rise of a religious terrorist sect who now force my people to produce nuclear weapons instead food. This has caused an American ban on exports and imports to and from our country, which has left us even poorer than before you Americans tried to save us.

[A pause.]

MANUFACTURER: So you don’t have our Whats-its? [C.F.L. shakes her head.] Get the hell out of here you commie! [Everybody shouts Commie!] Wait!

[Takes some of Bob’s money and gives it to CHEAP FOREIGN LABOR.]

BOB: What’s that for?

MANUFACTURER: Foreign relations fee. No get outta here. (C.F.L. exits.)

RETAILER: I’d like my Whats-its and I want them now.

BOB: Now what do we do?

[LABORER clears his throat.]

MANUFACTURER: Here. [Takes some more money, throws it at LABORER.] That enough?

LABORER: More! [MANUFACTURER throws the rest.] That’s good.

MANUFACTURER: Good news! It seems our strike is over. Looks like we’ll be able to ship our whats-its by tomorrow! Congratulations! All we need is some more help from our advertising slut [She enters] to sell our Whats-It to all the people out there, you, the stupid consumer and we’ll all be rich.

[Crashing from above. They all look up in terror! Chaos!]

MANUFACTURER: Oh no! It’s coming! Oh my goodness!

RETAILER: It’s VERY Steven Spielberg!

[They all run off except for BOB. Enter a UPS man with wings.]

UPS: Greetings Prophet. The great work begins. The messenger has arrived.

BOB: Who are you?

UPS: I am the American Transportation angel. I’m the angel of OPEC. You have taken advantage of me for too long. I have risen gas prices to over $2.00 a gallon. The nation is paralyzed. You are now unable to ship or build your product without raising prices beyond what the struggling American people are able to afford. You are now broke Bob. And the Bank is going to come and rip your dick off. [To audience:] By the way, I’m not gay. All hetero. Well there was that one time in Frisco, but I was drunk.

BOB: Screw you.

UPS: What?

[BOB decks the UPS angel and he falls to the floor. A beat.]

BOB: [He picks up his Whats-It. To audience:] Fuck Capitalism.


Copyright © 2006 by Nick Zagone

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that Amorica is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional and amateur stage performing, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound taping, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved.

Inquiries concerning all rights should be addressed to the author at zagonenick@icloud.com or www.facebook.com/nickzagone




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