Читать книгу Daredevil. Drama. Comedy. A play for 6-12 people - Николай Лакутин - Страница 2

Winter street stall. A street stall in the snow. There is also snow next to the stall.

The sound of a blizzard, wind is heard. In addition to these sounds, there is also a lyrical philosophical musical composition.

Lydia (a woman of about fifty-five), wrapped in a shawl, in a thick winter sweatshirt, from under which a sweater is visible, in thick trousers, in felt boots, runs out of this stall, fuss with a brush, sweeps the windows from the snow, kicks a little snow at the kiosk window so that people don't trample. He groans, as it should be done in the cold, shivers, twitches his shoulders and fussily hurriedly runs back to his stall.

Here the first customer minces to the kiosk. He covers himself with the collar of a sheepskin coat from the wind, bends and turns away from the streams of cold air. We can't see his face.

He approaches the kiosk, promptly inspects the showcase, knocks on the window of the stall. Lydia opens the window.

The music stops, but it doesn't end. The wind noises continue.

The 1st buyer (in a hoarse voice breaking from the cold, loudly so that it could be heard through the wind blowing away the replicas). Hello there! Give Parliament a couple of packs, Dirol blue and a Context pack.

Lydia is moving something there, putting something in her stall.

The buyer takes out his wallet from his inner pocket, counts the money, looks again into the window, in which something already appears from his order.

The 1st buyer (in a hoarse voice breaking from the cold, loudly so that it could be heard through the wind blowing away the replicas). Yeah. How much?

Lydia shows the amount on the calculator to the client.

The 1st buyer (in a hoarse voice breaking from the cold, loudly so that it could be heard through the wind blowing away the replicas). I see, I understand, now.

He gives the money to the saleswoman, accepts the change and the goods, and leaves.

Lydia closes the window.

The music is growing in sound again.

A few seconds later, the second buyer comes. This is already some kind of drunkard. Dressed like a bum. The hat is askew, the scarf is some kind of old, scary, shabby covers half of his face. We don't see what kind of person he is. He staggers from what he has already managed to use, goes and tries to count some crumpled bills, some pennies on the move. His money is falling, not all, partially. He tries to find them, raise them, count them again. And now he is already at the window of the stall.

The music stops.

The buyer knocks on the window.

Lydia opens it.

The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment for them). Lidonka, hello.

Lydia (roughly). What kind of Leader am I to you? You and I didn't drink at the bruderschaft. My name is Lydia. What do you need? Is there not enough money for a bottle again?

The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment for them). Uh… you know, literally fifteen rubles. Can't you help me out? Sell it, eh? I'll bring it in tomorrow, that's the cross!

He crosses himself significantly, while staggering.

Lydia (rudely, displeased). Ooooooo…, how you've already got me with your "not enough, help me out" here.

The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment). For the last time, please, Lead, well, don't refuse, be a friend …

Lydia (rudely, dissatisfied). What do you want? Zhigulevsky?

The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment). Of course…

Lydia (rudely, displeased). Oh, here, just get out of here, don't scare off customers with your appearance.

Lydia gives the bottle to the window, the buyer immediately hides it somewhere under his clothes, puts crumpled bills in the window, pours out the change, while not forgetting to thank.

The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment for them). Yes, you are my savior. Lead, I'll do anything for you. You just whistle, if there's anything, I'm for you…

Lydia (rudely, displeased, waving her hand outwards). That's it, go, go already…

the buyer leaves staggering. Lydia closes the window.

The music is amplified again.

A few seconds later, a third customer appears. Average outfit. Down jacket, warm pants, boots. The hood is deeply draped. This person holds the hood with his hand from the viewer's side, also hides away from the wind, so we don't see his face either.

He approaches the stall, looks at the window, takes money out of his pocket, counts, knocks.

The music stops.

Lydia opens the window.

3rd customer (in a cheerful male voice). Give me a couple of lemonades, please. My son's birthday is today, I didn't have enough. The kids are sitting at the table, waiting.

Lydia (respectfully, with warmth). Yes, please.

Serves two plastic poltorashki in the window.

Lydia (respectfully, with warmth). Will these go?

the 3rd buyer (in a cheerful male voice). They will, thank you.

The music is growing.

The buyer pays, takes the goods, leaves.

Lydia closes the window.

He goes out a few seconds later again on the street, in the same outfit, throwing on a sweatshirt as he goes. He sweeps the windows with a brush again, again splits the snow under the window. Out of breath, he leans on the stall, looks around.

There are no buyers yet.

Lydia loosens the shawl a little, exhales languidly.

Lydia (to the viewer, in a tired voice). Yeah… And so it is from day to day… Could I have thought in my younger years that everything would turn out like this? Do you think I dreamed about this?

He points with his hand and nods at the stall.

Lydia (to the viewer, in a tired voice). Noooo. It's me who's such an unsightly aunt right now… Yes, there's an aunt – grandmother already practically. Out… in these rags (looks at himself with a dismissive glance), a contingent, a job… Yes, you can see everything for yourself. But it wasn't always like that.

Lydia's face changes. A mischievous gleam appears in his eyes, a sly smile appears on his face. She even gets up in a completely different way, with some inner significance.

Lydia (to the viewer, with excitement and cunning). Do you know what I was like? Do you want me to tell you?

With a sly, expectant smile, Lydia looks around the hall, pauses. Throws aside the brush, and impressively strolling in a few steps, announces, retreating into memories.

Lydia (to the viewer, retreating into memories). I was only twenty years old then… I was pretty and actively used it…

the music increases…

the light goes out smoothly…

We turn to the story of the memories of the saleswoman from the stall.

ZTM.

Here you can stand for 10 seconds in the soundtrack and in the dark to close the kiosk with snow with some kind of screen, or other appropriate decoration, because our actions will go further in the summer period.