A performable satirical play with Off-Broadway energy, hip-hop chorus, and mythic comedy. Part of the Pandemic Papers.
Absolutely. I kept the off-Broadway chaos, the hip-hop chorus energy, and the mythic satire, but I made it performable: clearer voices, cleaner stage directions, tighter rhythm, and I removed the hard racial slurs (you don’t need them to get the punch). Part of "the pandemic papers meaning prophetic stories published during the Pandemic.
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A Prophet Ain’t Nothing but a Sandwich
First Notes (❤️)
ACT I
PROLOGUE — Invocation
(A bare stage. A neon sign flickers: EINSTEIN SQUARE. Distant sirens. A subway rumble under everything.)
MUSES (spoken-sung, overlapping)
As rappers and muses—
Alpha is plus, Beta is minus.
Muses who dwell in Heaven, begin the tale!
Once more!
Of the one who turned water into wine,
and a fish into a banquet—
of Jesus of Nazareth…
and of the one who came after,
and lost his senses.
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SCENE 1 — Einstein Square
(The CHORUS pours in like a living crowd. They’re ring-bells, holding vape pens, wearing winter coats over glitter. Light beams cut through haze like stained glass.)
CHORUS (chanting)
The crowds gather round in Einstein Square—
so many faces—
light in the air—
it hits the eyes, it wakes the senses.
(A beat drops. The CHORUS shifts into a call-and-response.)
CHORUS
Everyone is everyone!
EVERYONE IS EVERYONE!
Everyone is everyone!
EVERYONE IS EVERYONE!
(An OLD MESSENGER steps forward — half prophet, half subway philosopher.)
OLD MESSENGER
He who came before the Baptist—
in that old-man slant—
says the bell has rung again.
He who you wait for
has left Heaven
and missed his stop.
CHORUS (explodes)
WAIT UP!
(UNCLE BERNIE storms in, confused, furious, holding a deli sandwich like evidence.)
UNCLE BERNIE
Uncle Bernie—what the hell is going on?
(VILLAGE PEOPLE enter ringing bells and vaping like it’s sacred incense.)
VILLAGE PEOPLE (wild, joyous)
Everyone is everyone!
Everyone is everyone!
CHORUS (prophetic hype)
Children of war!
Sons of prophets!
Arrival of the saint!
Burning of the sand!
These children are no longer children!
If He has returned—
let Him show his face in Times Square!
You know what we mean.
UNCLE BERNIE
Hold up—HOLD UP.
(The DIRECTOR appears at the edge of the stage with a clipboard. Pensive. Like this show is happening to them.)
DIRECTOR (low)
Places.
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SCENE 2 — The City as Fever Dream
(LIGHTS: Red/Green. Crosswalk strobes. Manhattan winter. Everything shiny and too expensive. A quick montage of projections: caviar, Fabergé eggs, Broadway marquees, a stock ticker bleeding red.)
ENSEMBLE / CHORUS (layered, rhythmic)
Red light. Green light. Streets.
Manhattan in winter—
caviar dreams, cracked concrete.
Police and synchronicity—
Broadway on fire.
Ground zero—biohazard.
Wall Street in tatters.
(A loudspeaker VOICE interrupts like a public-service announcement from hell.)
LOUDSPEAKER VOICE
Beta males and fem-bots. Lawyers in therapy.
Please listen for instructions.
CHORUS (snaps back, dancing)
Psychedelic tripping—on the bus, on the train,
all the way up to Harlem—
forget that—
the D line, baby. Capisce?
(TRAFFIC COPS, LIEUTENANTS, “SONS OF SAM,” disco ghosts, sheriffs, burglars, Al Capone, and Santa Clauses all cross the stage in choreographed gridlock.)
CHORUS
Left or right—national divide.
Giants stadium, subway series—
last one out, flush the toilet, please!
Viruses and bacteria—children of Earth, listen—
that smoke burns lungs like kryptonite.
UNCLE BERNIE (deadpan)
Are you done yet?
CHORUS
HELL NO!
CHORUS (shouting over itself)
Democracy is on acid!
Love, drugs, rock and roll!
Cartels and cabals!
Democracy on fire!
Democrat versus Republican—
rise of hip-hop—
conservative versus liberal—
socialists, Bolsheviks—
black, white—
Jesus Christ Superstar!
(BACKUP SINGER CHRISSY steps out with a mic. She sings one line like a heavenly interruption.)
CHRISSY (singing)
(soft, haunting)
Red light… green light… streets…
(Beat stops.)
DIRECTOR (firm)
Pause.
Slow your flow.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
(Distant music. A French crooner voice. AZNAVOUR’s “Cabotin” drifts in like an old memory.)
ORCHESTRA (offstage, chaos-jazz)
(blazing, uncontrolled)
CHORUS (dazzled, sarcastic)
Songs and lyrics. Choruses and stages.
Costumes, jewels, masks on faces.
Ballerinas, rappers, props, and sages—
(THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA appears for one second like a hallucination.)
PHANTOM (growling, amused)
If you’re not feeling it—turn the volume down.
(The CHORUS laughs. The DIRECTOR does not.)
NARRATOR (popping in, too loud)
Pages often burn when messengers sing praises!
ENSEMBLE (snaps)
Narrator—shut up! This ain’t normal!
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SCENE 3 — “Return of the Messiah?”
CHORUS (whispering, building)
Return of the Messiah?
OLD MESSENGER
No, son. Stay tuned.
(A figure enters: THE JESUS PERSON. Stylish, ambiguous. Not quite holy, not quite celebrity. The crowd can’t decide what they’re seeing.)
NARRATOR (announcing, messy)
In walks the Jesus person—pronounce it “Hey-SOOS,” Latino-style!
He looks like a rock star and a street saint
had a baby in a subway station.
(Chaos on set. Someone knocks over a prop. A smear of stage blood on the carpet.)
NARRATOR (shouting)
SLAP THAT TRUMPET!
Heaven is a place on Earth!
CHORUS (in awe, then laughter)
Sons and daughters of Heaven came through—
no IDs, no papers—
right past the wall like it was a suggestion.
Only in America!
DIRECTOR
Narrator—STOP.
CHORUS (yelling)
SECURITY!
(A BORDER AGENT storms in, hard hat, flashlight, and a portable “WALL” piece rolls in like a gag.)
BORDER AGENT
Oh please.
Another web-made miracle designed to “bring Jesus back.”
Tell the others: I’m not buying it.
(A MAN WITH A LADDER climbs up like he’s about to fix Heaven’s lighting.)
MAN WITH LADDER
Before what?
Before it’s too late?
Before the Antichrist runs this place?
BORDER AGENT
Not on my watch.
Halo, crown—don’t care.
Homeland everything—
surveillance and satellites—
welcome to Earth.
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SCENE 4 — Mirror on the Wall
NARRATOR (mock-grand)
Mirror, mirror on the wall—
who’s the fairest of them all?
(GANGSTER RAPPERS and BEAUTY QUEENS flood the stage, talking trash like it’s scripture.)
RAPPER 1
OGs in the garden talking “return to Eden”—yo, stop it.
BEAUTY QUEEN
Pass Adam something sweet and watch him fall again.
RAPPER 2
Wash your mouth with cough syrup and Bible verses.
USHER / TICKET TAKER (trying to do a job)
Sir—do you have a ticket?
Or are we insinuating… trespassing?
RAPPER 1
Drake ain’t in the garden.
Didn’t come down from Toronto.
But somebody did.
(CUT.)
DIRECTOR (clapping, desperate)
Chorus—look alive!
Rap like you mean it!
CHORUS (chant, multilingual, silly-serious)
Cabeza, my people—cabeza!
This ain’t your mama’s baked beans—whatever that means!
It’s getting hot up in here—
shut up—keep moving!
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SCENE 5 — Flight Plan
(The stage becomes an airplane aisle. “SOUL PLANE” energy. FLIGHT ATTENDANTS, STRIPPERS, PRIESTS, NUNS, POLE DANCERS. Everyone is airborne in the mind.)
CHORUS
Airborne gangsters and saints—
Maverick dreams—Top Gun ships—
SOS and embassies, corruption and bribery!
OFFICIAL (saluting, absurd)
Permission to speak openly!
CHORUS (shouting)
Permission to take off—
people are leaving Earth today—
every color, every kind!
OFFICIAL
Granted!
(Beat drops out. Silence. The fun drains.)
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SCENE 6 — The Reveal Attempt
NARRATOR (serious, finally)
Seriously speaking—
the fun is over.
This new one is neither Jesus
nor His nemesis.
So who is he?
(A pause. The light narrows.)
NARRATOR (low)
The truth burns.
It burns.
(A “SECRETARY FOR PEACE” enters like a diplomat in a nightclub — crisp suit, glitter tie, clipboard like a weapon.)
SECRETARY FOR PEACE
Dear sirs and madams—kings and queens, princes and duchesses—
let me introduce the philosopher.
You decide who is the messenger.
Don’t be afraid of words.
Say it.
Say it like candy.
(A list of “celebrity witnesses” is projected as silhouettes — not literal names, more like archetypes: THE SINGER, THE ICON, THE COMEDIAN, THE PRINCE.)
SECRETARY FOR PEACE (repeats, ritual)
Dear sirs and madams—kings and queens, princes and duchesses—
let me introduce the philosopher.
You decide who is the messenger.
(The CHORUS murmurs: “2020… coronavirus… third planet from the sun… vaccines…”)
NARRATOR (aside, haunted)
So were the ravings of this man.
Could he be the Baptist…
or the last prophet?
(BLACKOUT.)
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If you want, I can do the next pass where I:
• tighten it to a 12–15 minute Act I opener (festival-ready),
• convert the repeated “Set” sections into a chorus refrain that hits every time,
• and swap all the real-celebrity references into mythic stand-ins (so you can stage it without legal/tonal baggage).