Читать книгу "My four women from a dream”. Play on 7, 6, 5, 4 or 3 people - Николай Лакутин - Страница 2

The front door was locked, and the thin wire from the bell was wrapped around the door in a tangle.

A hanger, a bed, shelves littered with junk, a nightstand with things, a table with a bunch of Newspapers, a book and a phone, a TV. Mess (in the corners of some piles of things, on the table a pile of barely fit on it dishes).

Twilight.

Yaroslav enters the room. He looks haggard.

He throws the heavy bag on the floor and takes off his jacket. He sits down on the bed and idly pulls off his shoes. One of them does not want to be removed. The shoelace is tied at the knot, not untied.

YAROSLAV (nervously): Well, where are the sticks? A knot or something?

Looks at the Shoe, tries to untie it. It doesn't work.

YAROSLAV (humbly): Exactly.

He gets out of bed, pulls off his jacket, trousers, and remains in his underpants, drunk t-shirt, socks, and one Shoe.

He goes into the kitchen, scratching his leg. He returns with a bag of milk, which he drinks straight from the throat, and takes the remote control from the TV. It tries to turn it on, but it doesn't work.

YAROSLAV (nervously): Well, where are the sticks? Are the batteries dead?

Puts a carton of milk, opens the lid of the remote, fiddles with the batteries there, tries to turn on the TV – it does not work.

YAROSLAV (humbly): Exactly.

Puts the remote control aside, goes to the front of the stage, with milk, drinks, scratches his belly, drops a bag of milk on the way. Fortunately, it is not complete, but something still spills over the stage.

Yaroslav looks at all this good with a certain amount of indifference and self-irony.

YAROSLAV: I have a Good day today. Here is recognized, feel – my day.

He goes to the kitchen and comes back with a rag. Wipes the spilled milk, picks up the milk bag, tries to finish what is left in it, and there is almost nothing left.

There is a loud knock on the door, which scares Yaroslav, and he spills the remaining drops on the t-shirt from the package.

YAROSLAV (nervously): Well, where are the sticks?

He shakes off his shirt.

Music is playing loudly (only the introduction of Pa' mi casa – Bebe, or something like that)

He goes and opens the door. Dimon bursts into the room.

DIMON: Healthy, Yaroslav batkovich.

YAROSLAV: hi, Dimon.

Greets the handle, the guest takes off his jacket on the go, takes off his shoes.

DIMON: Listen, old man, when will you fix the bell on the door? It's no business, no business, to beat on the door with your fingers, I've already broken all the cauldrons.

Shows Yaroslav the Kazanka river.

YAROSLAV: Yes, I'll fix it somehow. Once. What are you doing without warning? It's a bit of a mess…

DIMON: Yes, I had a fight with my wife. And you are alone, you can always find a dry friendly heart to shelter.

YAROSLAV: Well, Yes. What are the passions in the family?

DIMON: Imagine, I come home from work early today, and there…

YAROSLAV: Lover?

DIMON: if only… Dinner is not prepared! Well, what is it? A man came home from work, but there is nothing to eat at home.

YAROSLAV: Natasha always did a good job with you. Maybe she was busy, didn't have the opportunity?

DIMON: Why are you protecting her? I should have found an opportunity. I had a bite of cheburek on the way, while I was coming to you, so I let go a little…

YAROSLAV: Yes, I feel the fat of the tenth overcook (disperses the air with his hand near his face). Why didn't you take it for me?

DIMON (guiltily): I didn't think of something, I'm sorry. In my thoughts, I could see that I was wandering. I'll go and get you one.

Dimon minces to the door, but Yaroslav stops him.

YAROSLAV: no need, I have already intercepted so little at home.

A friend notices that Yaroslav is standing in one Shoe.

DIMON (intricately): Listen, what is this outfit you have?

Points to the Shoe.

YAROSLAV: it Doesn't untie, you bastard!

DIMON (exquisitely): Ahhh… Are you going to walk like this now?

YAROSLAV: So I will. No, I'll untie it some day, of course, or cut the cord, but then, I don't want to do it now. Let's go and sit down.

Pass on the sofa, sit down.

DIMON (exquisitely): Well, when?

YAROSLAV: when What?

DIMON: When can I see a young lady in this house?

YAROSLAV: Oh, I don't know, Dimon. The question is certainly interesting, but I don't have an answer to it yet.

DIMON: Let me introduce you to Natasha's friend? She's been divorced for a long time, which means she won't miss another fool like that. Will love you as the most-the most… At least you will think so, as we all do.

YAROSLAV: Yes not… thank you of course, but as something need to this… in General, you can solve such issues yourself.

DIMON: Ooooh, well, how much did you do? What a mess you've made. A woman's hand, my friend, is needed in this house!

YAROSLAV: I Don't want to talk about it.

DIMON: Okay.

Pause.

YAROSLAV: Dimon…?

DIMON: Aya?

YAROSLAV: I think you're a cretin.

DIMON: A very interesting discovery.

YAROSLAV: No, I think I understand everything!

DIMON: What are you talking about?

YAROSLAV: Why didn't your wife have time to cook anything?

DIMON: Well?

YAROSLAV: your birthday is tomorrow, you fool! Here's Natasha and ran around looking for a gift, and you let all the dogs down on her.

DIMON (scratching his head): Damn, it looks like you're right. I'd forgotten all about it. By the way, come back tomorrow, we'll sit and celebrate.

YAROSLAV (unconvincingly): No, I have business there, in General, there is. If I can get away… But it is unlikely.

DIMON: Kapets, it was inconvenient. (Guiltily) I'll go smooth out the corners.

Dimon gets ready, dresses, shoes.

DIMON: Come on, this… tomorrow evening, if that (indicates with a gesture the invitation to the acceptance of alcohol).

Yaroslav shrugs his shoulders.

Dimon leaves.

Yaroslav wipes the floor clean, takes away a rag and a milk carton. He takes off his t-shirt and unties the shoelace, while exuding growls and incomprehensible vocabulary. He takes off his other foot, picks up a book from the table, reads for a while, puts the book down, and goes to bed with a blanket over his head.

ZTM.