MONEY ISN’T HUMAN

MC: A busy, put-upon optimist. Supportive of art, but has their limits. I imagine an offstage voice for the most part, but they can go on and off stage if desired.

ANGEL EYE: Aspiring drag performer. An android, fresh from the lab. Wants to be human. Wears a human mask, purchased or homemade.

NARRATOR: Think Rod Serling or Vincent Price in Thriller.

-

NARRATOR: THE FUTURE… An empty, darkened laboratory. A flash of light. An inhuman figure rises from the slab. What twisted parody of humankind emerges into artificial wakefulness? It knows no fear. It knows no love. Propelled by the whirling of a mechanical heart, it seeks to sate an unnatural hunger…

Lights ON. Angel Eye stands alone on stage. A song begins- maybe “Work, Bitch,” “Material Girl” or “9 to 5”- and she snaps into performance mode-

The music stops.

MC: No, no, no. We can’t use more than ten seconds of a song.

Angel freezes. Processing…

MC: No one has any cash to give you anyway. And we can’t have any sexual content. How did you even get in here?

Angel gestures, but doesn’t speak.

MC: Wh- Pour a bucket of coins over you like Flashdance? I’ll check, but it’s iffy. In the meantime, try and figure out something else.

Angel takes out her phone and scrolls through it. She hits on an idea and starts setting up a meal for herself (and the audience.) Table. Chair. Food. It’s okay if this takes a while, and it’s okay if it’s extremely low-budget. The food doesn’t have to be real. She gestures to the audience as if speaking, and goes to “take a bite,” or “sip” her drink, hitting her mask.

MC: What are you doing?

Angel gestures off-stage as if silently holding one half of a conversation.

MC: What’s a “mukbang?” ...They can’t hear you. …So, yeah, ‘get ready with me’ probably won’t work either. …I don’t care if it worked on YouTube. What are you talking about?

Angel shows MC something on her phone- “Doll Face,” by Andrew Huang. The audience probably doesn’t see it.

MC: Okay, yeah, but you don’t have a face.

Angel stomps her foot.

MC: Okay, okay, sure. Go for it. Strive for humanity.

Angel gestures, increasingly frustrated.

MC: Yeah, kid, we all run on money.

Angel gestures violently.

MC: What? No. Yeah, it’s allowed, but-

Angel “breaks” her foot.

MC: Stop! No one wants to see that!

No face. No voice. No music. Angel slumps into her seat, defeated. Gestures- “What’s the point anyway?”

If onstage, MC “fixes” her foot.

MC: Yeah, I don’t know either. It’s an ego thing, I guess. Seeing somebody want to be like you. …Dance? Yeah, you can dance. Just keep it chaste.

Copyright-friendly guitar music. If it’s still broken, Angel “fixes” her foot, then begins to dance- maybe with MC, maybe around them if they’re playing, maybe alone- then winds down, slowly locking into place.

MC either walks off and back on, or on stage for the first time, carrying a bucket of cash. They pour it over Angel.

BLACKOUT.

LIGHTS UP.

MC inserts a coin into Angel, probably the back of her neck. Angel shudders back to life, disoriented for a moment until MC indicates the audience. They bow together.

BLACKOUT, FOR REAL THIS TIME.