A Donkey Named Diablo
A short one act play
SCENE — A FARM JUST OUTSIDE CANCUN, MEXICO.
CARLOS and friends, all teenage tourists, line up outside a corral full of a dozen donkeys. A buzz of excitement can be heard as the American students admire the cute animals. JAIME, the tour guide, informs the group of the next activity.
JAIME: OK, amigos, I hope you enjoyed the horseback ride. Maybe next time we give your friend Carlos a horse that is not so lazy.
The group laughs. A friend punches Carlos on the arm.
JAIME: Our next adventure is called Burro Polo. It is like polo on the horse, but with a burro.
Eyes widen, jaws drop.
JAIME: Any who do not want to take part in this game of strength can go sit in the bleachers. But if you are man, or woman, of strength, of valor, you stay here.
As some of the young folk walked to the bleachers made of wood, shaded by a wall of concrete and sheet metal roof, JAIME begins to pair the teenagers to their donkeys.
JAIME: Last but not least, DIABLO. Carlos, you get el DIABLO.
CARLOS: [hesitant] Wh-, Why do they call him DIABLO?
JAIME: Why do I call my mother, madre? That is his name, cabrón.
CARLOS doesn’t trust them but plays along as his friends cheer him on. JAIME demonstrates the mallet and soccer ball they will be using in the “stadium.” The object of the game is easy, get the ball to the net.
CARLOS: [approaching DIABLO] Hi, little buddy.
DIABLO: [turning away from CARLOS] Little buddy, mis pinches nalgas.
CARLOS: [looking around] Did you say something?
DIABLO: I said, my butt.
CARLOS: [trying to get in front of the donkey to see it’s face] Did you just speak?
DIABLO: No, my butt did, you pinche gringo.
CARLOS: [protesting] I resent that!
DIABLO: [mocking] I resent that!
CARLOS: I am not a gringo! I am Latino, from Colombia. Well, my parents are. I’m from New York. But still, Colombian-American.
DIABLO: Like I said, green-go.
CARLOS: [shaking finger at DIABLO] Listen, your job is to let me ride you. I don’t need no attitude from a Mexican donkey.
DIABLO: [gasps] Este wey with the racism. “Mexican” donkey. Wow. I expected better from you, gringo.
CARLOS: Why? Because I called you Mexican? You’re a donkey. In Mexico.
DIABLO: It’s the way you said it. Emphasis on the Mexican. Like I am less than. Why? Because you’re a racist gringo.
CARLOS: I can’t be racist, I’m latino. Brown like you.
DIABLO bares his teeth and laughs a donkey laugh.
DIABLO: This man is killing me, man.
The other donkeys, now with teenagers aboard, all bare their teeth and laugh.
DIABLO: [shaking his head] Brown like me. Que desastre. You got your brown from forgetting to put on sunblock, gringo. I can see the skin under your shorts. You are white like the rice the farmer makes.
CARLOS: I just don’t get out in the sun too much. I’m not white. Everyone knows it.
DIABLO: Everyone who, gringuito? Your gringo friends? What did your grandmother and aunts say when you were born? Ay que blanco. Look how white he is, no? What does your mother say when you fill out a government form, eh? Put an x next to the white.
CARLOS: Well, yeah, but…
DIABLO: Like, I said, my butt.
CARLOS: Can we just get on with it? The girls are watching.
DIABLO: The girls, eh? Of course we want to impress the girls, gringo.
CARLOS: [frustrated] Can you stop?
DIABLO: Stop what?
CARLOS: Calling me gringo.
DIABLO: Ah, ok, gringo.
CARLOS: Stop it!
DIABLO: OK. [turns to offer his side to CARLOS] Gringo. [bares teeth] Hop on.
CARLOS: Fine. [mutters under breath, mockingly] My name is DIABLO. I’m a donkey.
CARLOS puts right foot in stirrup and throws his left leg over DIABLO’s back.
DIABLO: You ok, gringo?
CARLOS: I think so. Why?
DIABLO: I expected more, how do you say, heft.
CARLOS: That doesn’t even make sense. Why?
DIABLO: You are gringo, with your Kentucky Fries and Burger King. I expect American meat.
CARLOS: I don’t eat that stuff. I eat rice and beans like you.
DIABLO: There you go again, gringo. With your racist stereotypes.
CARLOS: Oh, come on! What do you eat?
DIABLO: Hay. And succulents. I’m a burro, gringo.
CARLOS: Can we stop? Can we play?
DIABLO: Fine. Let’s go get that ball.
DIABLO gallops towards the action on the dirt field. CARLOS flails.
CARLOS: Slow down, DIABLO.
DIABLO: Slow down, gringo? Ok!
DIABLO slams the brakes and CARLOS falls forward over the right hand side, his right foot stuck in the stirrup.
CARLOS: No! DIABLO, stop!
DIABLO runs along the metal corral gate to shake CARLOS off.
CARLOS: Stop! Stop! Stop!
EL DIABLO: [stops] OK, I stop now.
Friends run to the gate where CARLOS now rests. Girls reach through the gate to check on CARLOS, touching his face and head.
CARLOS: [out of breath] Thank you, DIABLO. Thank you.
DIABLO: [kicking up dirt, mockingly] Ay, thank you. Thank you, he says.
DIABLO walks away talking to himself.
DIABLO: I do all the work, they get all the women. Pinche gringos.
FIN.
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