(The curtain rises)

THE WRITER: (snores loudly)

THE BED: How rude! And they say he is an artist. He, an artist? He is a peasant. A regular yokel. A country bumpkin, if you will.

THE ARMCHAIR: I see that your bad mood gets worse with age. Will you shut up, once and for all?

THE TELEVISION: Maybe he should buy a new bed. In my view, the new models are more modest and discreet. Who needs an old talker ... I am the one who speaks here.

THE BED: I would like to see what you would do if someone jumped on you every day and every night. I have an expiration date, too. I don't want to be broken by some oaf. Come on, let's kill him, I beg you. I promise that, if we do, I will remain silent for the rest of my life.

THE WRITER: (wakes up slowly, and is trying to say something).

THE WARDROBE: I agree but under one condition. I want the TV to stay on all night long because I'm afraid of darkness.

THE TELEVISION: I accept your condition.

THE LAMP: I don't care one way or the other, but I don't want to separate from the group, therefore, I accept.

THE BED: Then let's go for it.

THE WRITER: (open-mouthed, does not know what to say)

THE ARMCHAIR (scared): Oh, no, please! I don't want to do it! If we kill him, they're going to put us in jail!

THE BED: Aha, that's why you're afraid ... Because you know that in the jail cell, anyone can mount you.

(The laughter of all the furniture lifts the dust)

THE WRITER: Nooooo! (He jumps off the bed and looks around him, terrified. Then he touches the bed, the chair; and, finally, looks towards the lamp).

THE FURNITURE: (says nothing)

THE WRITER: (sighs with relief) I'm never going to have mushrooms for supper again. 

(The writer leaves the bedroom laughing at himself).

THE BED: (whispering) What a shame. Now we have to plan it all over again. Oh, well. Maybe we'll get him next time.

A/N: Video theme: "El sueño,"  micro-narrative text in Spanish combined with audio and video stimuli.