Читать книгу A play for 2 people. An invented life. Comedy - Николай Лакутин - Страница 2

Room. Warm, cozy atmosphere. There are two small armchairs and a table.

A lyrical musical theme sounds.

Semchik enters, carrying a teapot and a couple of mugs in his hand. This is his apartment, he is the owner. In a masterly way, he corrects the chairs, moves them a little differently, makes the arrangement of the devices on the table, leaves. Semchik's actions are measured, not fussy. He's in no hurry.

He returns again, brings sweets, puts them on the table, looks at the clock.

He sits down on a chair, takes out a smartphone, flips through the news feed in it.

The musical accompaniment ends.

Olchik enters. Positive, but exciting. The complete opposite of Semchik. A woman's handbag is on her shoulder, a bag of groceries is in her hand.

Olchik (chattering). Sema, hi. Mua-Mua (sends Semchik two swift air kisses). Why is your door unlocked? Are you not afraid of thieves?

Semchik (without getting up from the chair, slowly, slowly). Olchik, salute. There is no one scarier than you in my bachelor hut.

Olchik (deliberately offended). Well, thank you.

Semchik (trying to rehabilitate himself). I don't mean that, I mean… Well, you get it.

Olchik (positively, fussily). Yes, I understand-I understand. (Sceptically examines the table with treats). Soooo! Semchik, you don't change. Tell me honestly, aren't you tired of putting the same thing on the table yourself? How do you eat it? Okay, one. Okay, two. But now there's plenty of everything. No, you consistently treat the same. However, I knew it, so…

Olchik takes out of the bag those treats that she bought for the occasion herself. He arranges them on the table, rearranging everything that Semchik has arranged.

Semchik continues to scroll through the news feed in his smartphone, prints something, does not participate much in what is happening.

Olchik, having finished with the serving, and having assessed the "busy" Semchik, approaches him and takes his smartphone from him.

Semchik (indignantly, offended). And…

Olchik (putting his smartphone aside). You will have time to sit on the phone at any other time. Now you'd better talk to me.

Olchik removes Sema's phone to the side, puts his own there next to it, defiantly showing this gesture as equality of positions.

Semchik (looking away, crossing his arms on his chest). Actually, there was a very important correspondence.

Olchik (sarcastically). You can save the world another time. And now let's roll! What have you got there? Tea or coffee?

Semchik ("through the lip"). Coffee is expensive nowadays. Just for yourself, you can have tea in a bag.

Olchik (positively). Tea is so tea!

Sema gets up from the chair, goes to the table to fill the mugs, receives a playful and friendly slap on the fifth point from Olchik, turns around skeptically, frowns, continues his plan, noting only the cunning grin of Olya, who is more comfortable in her chair.

Sema hands Olchik a mug of tea, brings himself a jar of coffee, ostentatiously brews, savors the aroma and treats himself to what Olya brought.

Olchik (positively, looking at all this outrage). Come on, come on. As I knew, I sprinkled rat poison on everything ahead of time.

Semchik choking, begins to cough.

Olya puts down her tea, hurries to Semya, slaps him on the back. He clears his throat.

Olchik (accusingly, slapping Semchik on the back). Oh, how impressionable we are…

Semchik (with shortness of breath). Here! I told you, there's no one scarier than you here.

Olchik (busily). Come, sit down! I'm looking after you. And then you can't even really take anything in your mouth yourself!

Semchik (with some resentment). And you just can!

They exchange ambiguous glances.

Semyon sits down in his chair.

Olya takes care of him, serves coffee, having managed, however, to take a sip from a cup of Sema and grimace, serves some treats, sits down next to him in the next chair herself, taking what she wants from the table for herself.

They help themselves, drink.

Semchik (distantly). I read in the news yesterday that in Novosibirsk a cat fell from the 23rd floor onto the roof of a Nissan.

Olchik (anxiously). Which Nissan?

Semchik (with interest). Strange reaction… What about the cat aren't you interested in?

Olchik (anxiously). What will happen to her, the cat has nine lives, and I have one Nissan, in which my sister has just left for Novosibirsk. (Asks more demanding). Which Nissan, I ask?

Semchik (disinterestedly). How do I know? There were no details about the car. For some reason.

Olchik takes off, runs to the phone, starts dialing his sister's number. Semchik breaks down after him, takes the phone, puts it in place, drives Olya away.

Olchik (anxiously). I have to call my sister! Find out if everything is in order!

Semchik (with vindictive calmness). I also had an important correspondence, but it didn't stop you, so excuse me, citizen, we will sit in "happy ignorance" together!

Olchik is angry, offended, but where to go. He gives up his position, sits down indignantly in the Semchik's chair.

Olchik (displeased). Here, Semchik, you know how to be an unpleasant person!

Semchik (with a clear hint). There is someone to learn from…

they look at each other. They understand each other.

Semchik sits down in Olya's chair.

Olchik (trying to calm down and pull himself together). So how is she?

Semchik (wiping the thread of the conversation). Who!

Olchik (trying to calm down and pull himself together). I'm asking about the cat! Survived? No?

Semchik (calmly). A cat has nine lives, what will happen to it.

Olchik looks at this with disbelief.

Semchik (catching this look). Yes, she survived-she survived.

Olchik (still a little nervous). Wow, of course. It's not like that with people. I stumbled out of the blue and I'm ready. How many such cases?

Semchik (in solidarity). That yes. To know, a person is less valuable to nature and the universe as a whole than a cat.

Olchik thinks about it.

Olchik (with thoughtful interest). Semchik, but you're right! In the sense that… That your words are very similar to the truth. After all, in fact, a person is not valued a damn thing either among his own or among strangers. How much work, care, effort it takes for a person to be born, get stronger, get on his feet, learn something and show something to the world. But a moment is enough for a person to disappear.

Semchik (thoughtfully). And do you know… On the one hand, it seems to be unfair, but on the other hand, it is very right that everything is exactly like that.

Olchik (with a hit-and-run). What is right? Have you ever given birth? You know what toxicosis is, what it is – don't pick it up, don't run around here, take care here. What is only a spoiled figure worth! Yes, this alone outweighs the scales in favor of the injustice of the balance of birth and death, not to mention everything else.

Semchik (calmly, judiciously). In an ideal, or even just in a conscious society – yes! Of course, your truth is 200%. But this is not our case. Unfortunately, Olcha, our world systematically and tirelessly generates ignorance. How much dirt, rot, meanness in the hearts of people. Not everyone, of course, has a minority, but, alas, an active minority! Now imagine what the world would become if these active ignorant minorities were as tenacious as the same cats. Murderers, rapists, robbers, swindlers… Continue?

Olchik jumps up from his chair. She is practically shaking with indignation and indignation, but there is nothing to oppose Semchik's iron argument, and this angers even more.

Olchik (nervously, with a psycho). What did you do?

Semchik (taken aback). What?

Olchik (nervously, with a psycho). Did you just prove me wrong?

Semchik shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

Olchik (nervously, with a psycho). You could have just kept silent, like all normal men, no, you had to trample me into the dirt, show the breadth of your perception and my worthlessness, respectively! And you did it brilliantly! Burn you in hell for this, you brute! I hate you!

Olchik quickly leaves, nervously waving his arms and stamping his feet.

Semchik throws up his hands in misunderstanding of what he said. Silently, he moves his lips, thinks something about himself.

He addresses the audience, also with a psycho, jumping up from his chair.

Semchik (nervously, to the viewer). What kind of creatures are women anyway? You are silent – bad! If you open your mouth, you get even worse. Praising means flattering, scolding means you are biased. Yes, what you won't say, or what you won't keep silent about, what you won't do – you'll screw up anyway! How, tell me, do I even communicate with these pretentious creatures?

Semchik goes to the table, nervously grabs something there, shoves it into his mouth, chews… Gradually an interesting thought comes to his mind, he calms down.

Semchik (nervously, to the viewer, with his mouth full). Although… Although, actually, there is an idea… (He keeps the intrigue, chews, drinks, speaks normally.) And what if men and women could speak the same language and understand each other at a glance… They would be, as they say, on the same wave!

A blissful smile can be seen on Semchik's face.

Intriguing music sounds.

ZTM.