The Vacuum Cleaner

by Patricia Lidia

Characters:

• Narrator – The kind-hearted, quick-witted observer of chaos
• Customer – A determined, slightly frantic homebody
• Salesman – A sweating optimist desperately holding the fort
• Assembly Guy – Proud, proper, easily offended
• Motor Guy – Grumpy engineer, married to his motor
• Casing Designer – A drama queen with a tape measure

ACT I – “Dreams and Dust” Electronics Store

(Lights up: a dusty luxury appliance shop, buzzing gadgets on crooked shelves. Center stage: a glowing shrine of vacuum cleaners. Enters the CUSTOMER, wrestling a giant box, steaming with rage. The SALESMAN fidgets nearby, a fake grin glued to his face. The NARRATOR leans casually in a corner, invisible but all-seeing.)

Narrator (to audience, strolling lazily):

Welcome, friends, to a world where warranties are fairy tales, where dust wears the crown, and customers get played like jesters.

Today’s story? A tragic comedy… in three acts and seven missing screws. A tale of shattered expectations… and vacuums dragged straight to hell.

Customer (yelling at Salesman):

Buddy! I bought this vacuum here! Says right on the box, “Built for heavy-duty pulling!” I pulled it ONCE—ONE lousy time—and it exploded! Poof! Like a Lego massacre! My cat bolted to the neighbors’ place! Left a sticky note: “Back when the war’s over!”

Salesman (nervous chuckle):

Well, sir… vacuums today are… delicate. They’re not built like the old iron beasts that could suck up a carpet and your soul. Maybe you pulled it… a little rough? Did you, uh, read the manual?

Customer:

I didn’t smash it with a crowbar, pal! I tugged it with my LEFT hand—‘cause my RIGHT was wrecked from hauling pickle jars! Manual?! I’m vacuuming, not auditioning for Cirque du Soleil!

(Enters the ASSEMBLY GUY, rigid as a Swiss watchmaker.)

Assembly Guy:

Let’s stay calm, people. I assembled this vacuum to PERFECTION! Zero scratches! No creaks! If something busted— It wasn’t my masterpiece. Maybe a component gave up, but the whole system? FLAWLESS!

Customer:

Yeah, flawless… it flawlessly fell apart!

Assembly Guy (offended):

No sir! The assembly stood proud! A tiny piece let go—not my fault! I build dreams, not inspect every screw!

(Enters the MOTOR GUY, scowling, with a screwdriver like a general’s medal.)

Motor Guy:

Gentlemen! My motor is like a Beethoven sonata! If it broke, it’s not my fault! It’s built to SUCK, not to do bungee jumps every time you yank it! It’s not built to be dragged around like a sack of potatoes! It’s a motor, it vacuums, not a marathon runner!

Customer (shouting):

And how exactly am I supposed to follow it around? Poke it with a stick like a pinwheel?!

Assembly Guy:

No one said it’s the motor’s fault!

(Enters the CASING DESIGNER, floating in like a misunderstood artist, scarf fluttering, tape measure dangling like jewelry.)

Casing Designer:

If I may—gentlemen—the casing… is ART! It’s light, it’s sleek, it’s a symphony in plastic! If you want armor, go to the tank factory! If the motor’s hoppin’ like popcorn, what do you expect me to do? seatbelt it?!

Customer (near tears):

I don’t care WHO broke WHAT! All I know is— I pulled a vacuum across my carpet and now I’ve got three dead parts and a cat in therapy!

(Everyone starts shouting. Chaos.)

Motor Guy:

The motor’s got nothing to do with the casing!

Casing Designer:

The casing’s job is protection—how can it protect if the motor’s throwing a tantrum?!

Assembly Guy:

I just put the parts together, I didn’t design ‘em!

Salesman (whispering desperately):

Maybe… maybe a discount?… a voucher…?

Customer (boiling over):

I want a vacuum that WORKS! Not a masterclass in mechanical anatomy!

Motor Guy:

My motor is like a human heart— treat it gently, with love! You don’t hit it, don’t rough it up!

Casing Designer:

The casing is like a ball gown, not a lumberjack’s coat! Beautiful and fragile—you don’t wear it to chop wood!

Assembly Guy:

I assemble hopes and dreams— but if the parts are drunk students at spring break—what can I do!?

Customer (still holding the shattered box aloft):

I paid for ONE vacuum! Not a damn poetry reading!

Salesman (muttering):

Maybe we can just give the customer a new vacuum… but tell him not to pull it—just admire it from a distance…

Customer (exploding):

I bought it to suck up DUST, not to take it on freakin’ sightseeing tours!

(Dead silence. Everyone turns to NARRATOR. Offstage, the cat meows, long and tragic.)

ACT II – Spotlight on Narrator

Narrator (warmly, strolling toward audience):

That’s life, ain’t it? One guy pulls, another guy assembles, someone else makes excuses, and the poor schmuck customer’s left sweeping up the pieces. And when you ask “Who’s to blame?”— everyone’s got clean hands… but oh, you flip ’em over, and they’re all covered in grime.

(Walks up to each character, chiding gently.)

Narrator (to Motor Guy):

You built a magnificent motor… but treated it like a diva that mustn’t be touched!

Narrator (to Casing Designer):

You crafted beauty… but forgot that dust plays dirty and customers are hasty!

Narrator (to Assembly Guy):

You assembled it all… but glued dreams with spit! And spit doesn’t hold screws, my friend!

Narrator (to Salesman):

You sold a fairy tale. No prince included.

Narrator (to Customer, kindly):

And you, my friend— You wanted a miracle at clearance price. Admit it—there was a SALE tag, wasn’t there?

(The Customer shrugs guiltily. Audience chuckles.)

ACT III – The Moral

(All characters stand frozen around the vacuum’s broken remains.)

Narrator (addressing them warmly, like scolding spoiled children):

Listen up, you dreamers of dust and poets of excuses: The Customer didn’t buy a motor. Or a casing. Or some “assembly required” sadness. Or some loose parts! He came for a vacuum that would keep its promise: to suck up dust, to endure. He bought a PROMISE. A machine that works. A machine that stays together. A machine that doesn’t splatter across the floor like freshman year regrets. He doesn’t CARE who broke what— He just wants something that stays whole. Got it?

(They all nod sheepishly.)

Narrator (wrapping up warmly):

And so, my friends, on a sunny, dusty day, a vacuum cleaner taught us: when everyone only cares about their piece— nothing stays whole. And when no one’s guilty… EVERYONE is guilty. Because dust shows no mercy. And customers? They got no time to wait. And vacuums—like our dreams—must be held tight by screws… and by heart.

(Lights fade out to a lonely meow.)

ACT IV – “The Vacuum Trial”

(Lights up: dusty courtroom. Stacks of papers, squeaky chairs. At the front: a sleepy Judge in robes. At the Customer’s feet, his cat—a wiry, orange ball of nerves, nicknamed Lady Meow.

Opposite corners: the Customer holding the vacuum’s broken parts like an innocent child; across from him, the Salesman, Assembly Manufacturer, Motor Manufacturer, and Casing Designer, clutching folders and looking guilty.

At the front: The Judge slumps in his chair, half-asleep.)

Judge (yawning):

Case number… whatever… “Customer and Lady Meow versus The Entire Vacuum Universe.” Proceedings may begin! Whoever wants to yell first… kindly don’t. Talk nicely, my head hurts.

(Everyone tries to shout at once. Lady Meow lets out a dramatic, courtroom-shaking meow.)

Narrator (to audience, whispering):

In a real trial, everyone sounds reasonable. In an absurd one, even the cat makes more sense.

Customer’s Lawyer:

Your Honor! My client bought a vacuum to clean, not to implode artistically! Exhibit A: Lady Meow! Now she’s got PTSD! Flinches at the word “vacuum!” Therapy bills through the roof!

Lady Meow (growling):

Mrrrowwww!

Motor Guy’s Lawyer:

Objection! The motor is a masterpiece! Pure engineering brilliance! If it broke, it was ABUSED! No motor is built for… assault with a deadly tug!

Casing Designer’s Lawyer:

Your Honor, the casing was designed for admiration, not for being dragged like a dead raccoon through a hairball field!

Customer (seething):

What do you want me to do?! Am I supposed to contemplate my dust, madam?! Light candles in every corner and do yoga between the dust bunnies?!

Lady Meow (growling):

Meeaauu! (“Do justice—or I’ll claw the drapes!”)

(Lady Meow leaps onto the Judge’s desk, hissing dramatically.)

Judge (stroking Lady Meow’s head absently):

You know what? You’re the smartest one in this whole damn room, furball.

(He bangs the gavel, startling everyone.)

Judge:

Verdict:

• Customer gets a new vacuum.
• Lady Meow gets a year’s supply of tuna treats.
• The Motor Guy must label every motor “Fragile – no running with vacuums!“
• The Casing Designer must include in the brochure: “Forge your spiritual bond with your vacuum casing!”
• The Assembly Guy must affix a sticker: “No fighting—just functioning!“
• The Salesman… must attend a course in science fiction writing to improve his storytelling skills.

(Audience roars. Lady Meow poses like a tiny Simba. Curtain falls to wild laughter.)

Narrator (final word, warm and wise):

And so, dear friends, in a world full of excuses and missing screws, pne small cat shone a little light. Because when nobody’s guilty, it just means… EVERYONE is guilty. Even the cat—who probably skipped out on assembly day.

(The curtain falls slowly, with Lady Meow yawning artistically atop the Judge’s desk.)

🎭 THE END.