Plays on the 5,6,7,8,9,10 people. Collection №4. Nikolay Lakutin

carefully takes the drawing from her mother's hand. He stares at the drawing, then at Dima, then at the drawing, then at Kirill, then at the drawing, then at his mother.

      MARINA: I agree, too.

      Kirill: Well, then… (pulls his son closer, hugs him)

      Nelly and Marina also come, Kirill hugs them, they hug everyone.

      KIRILL: Then… then we wish good luck to our new crew and a good journey together!

      Loud and effective music!

      A CURTAIN

      Play for five, six or seven people "Honest announcement"

      ACTORS

      MOM – a short, cheerful old woman of 66 years;

      YURA – son, "sitting on the neck" of the mother. Tall fellow 36 years old.

      SANEK is a friend of Yura, a darling of fate, about 40 years old.

      DARIA is the first candidate for a relationship, 28 years old.

      ARINA is the second candidate for a relationship, 35 years old.

      MILANA is the third candidate for a relationship, 42 years old.

      KAPITOLINA is the fourth candidate for a relationship, 18 years old.

      Not all female roles of relationship candidates overlap, they can be played by 4.3 or 2 Actresses.

      Yura's Hobbies are fooling around, making faces, gesticulating, and imitating. Therefore, special attention should be paid to the roles of this character in relation to the clarity of facial expressions and artistry in General. This is important!

      ACT ONE

      MOM AND YURA's apartment

      Hall.

      A table, two stools (strong, will "fly"), a sofa, a TV, a wardrobe (not heavy, so that my mother could move it), bookshelves (one of which will later move) things and other attributes that correspond to a residential home is not rich environment.

      Quiet, calm music is playing. Not a bright light.

      In an apron, cheerful all in the process of cooking, a short mother bustles into the room. Carries a saucer of sliced bread. Puts it on the table, hurries to the kitchen.

      After a while, my mother appears again, holding a saucepan and a cutting Board. Puts everything on the table, hurries to the kitchen, brings two spoons, a salt shaker, and napkins to the hall. It stands, looks carefully at the table, calculates something. She remembers that she hasn't reported it yet, runs to the kitchen, returns with a teapot and two mugs. He looks at the table contentedly.

      The music stops.

      He takes off his apron, turns around, and calls his son.

      MOTHER (affectionately, loving, caring): Yuri? My son? Time to get up. The porridge is getting cold. (Walks across the room, puts two stools at the table, turns around, sees that his son has not yet arrived, continues to call) Yurochka Wake up, dear, Breakfast is ready!

      With the face swollen from sleep, in half – lowered family underpants of a very intricate style, which his mother-old woman obviously sewed for him (it is highly desirable to make to order or sew something unconventionally funny on her own), yawning and stretching, reluctantly, a bumpy son, a tall fellow, passes into the hall. In his hand, he has a crumpled t-shirt, which he tries to straighten out and determine where the front is and where the back is. Puts it on, but, as it turns out, on the left side. The thick seams of the fabric clearly protrude, attracting attention.

      MOTHER (affectionately, loving, caring): Son, please come to the table, how did you sleep? You don't look happy. Did you have a bad dream?

      YURA (yawning): No, not really… Sleep is just fine. Everything was even good there, but not enough.

      MOTHER (curiously): How interesting, but what did you dream? What's not enough?

      Yura looks at her mother with a strange look. He's confused, and he knows he shouldn't have said that.

      YURA (wagging): Nuuu…, how to say… (Abruptly changes the tactics of defense to attack, paying attention to the table) I didn't bring any plates! Mom, what am I going to eat out of?

      The old mother pays attention to her mistake, throws up her hands in frustration.

      MOM (annoyed): Oh, I'm so busy. Now, my dear, now everything will be fine.

      The mother runs to the kitchen and returns with two plates. Takes care of his son, puts him first, puts a plate in front of him, puts a spoon, ties him a napkin (or a handkerchief at the discretion of the Director). He sits down opposite me. Proceeds to the Breakfast.

      The mother eats, not too loudly and clearly, but still slurps.

      The son sits, does not eat, and with gentle glances sends passes of mimic gestures of disapproval in the direction of the mother.

      The mother pays attention to this. She's worried.

      MOM (annoyed): What is it, dear?

      YURA (ornately): Here… Such case.

      MOTHER (alarmed): Well,what?

      YURA (prevaricating): I don't even know how to say…

      MOM (alarmed): Speak up, Lord Almighty. What happened?

      YURA (annoyed): You're slurping! Annoying!

      Mom lets out a sigh of relief, preparing for something more weighty.

      MOM (guiltily): So I'm old, no teeth read. And so I try to be careful.

      JURA (on the nerves): And not particularly it turns out!

      Mom shrugs guiltily and continues to eat. Every now and then she makes a little noise.

      YURA (with a flourish and a grimace): It may sound a little strange, it may even sound rude, and I admit that it may even be outrageous, but… Listen… And you couldn't eat somewhere out there… in the kitchen, for example, because you're losing your appetite, and Breakfast is the most important food, you said yourself… my

      Mother humbly takes her Cup, spoon, and leaves the table.

      MOM (guiltily): Yes,Yes… I understand everything. When I was young, my grandfather also irritated me with such phenomena… it came back to me. Enjoy your meal, son. I'm in the kitchen, if you need anything, call out.

      Mom leaves.

      The son makes a disgusted face, a little contemptible shiver runs through him (twitches). He looks to see if mom's gone, grimaces. The mood lifts, and he begins to eat with an impudent haughty expression on his face.

      With a clang, clang and crash, almost falling, Sanek runs into the room, trying to keep his balance.

      An iron basin and bucket, a ladle, all this also flies into the room obviously after meeting with the clumsy foot of a not too young and not particularly attentive man.

      SANEK (on emotion, rushing into the room): .

      Yura is sitting with her back to him, jumping up from the clang and crash, spilling porridge on her pants, the plate falls to the floor, but the spoon with the pitiful remnants of Breakfast is still in her hand.

      YURA (recovering from the shock, trying to cope with a nervous TIC that came from nowhere): Sanek… Healthy, old boy. You what is this neither light nor sh…, (takes a breath) nor dawn, and even so shocking. And what about the mother? I didn't hear…

      Sanek collects the basin, bucket, and ladle that he dropped, and carefully sets them all aside.

      SANEK (irritated): Yes, I'm talking… Your mother is a good woman. Economic. All something kolgotitsya, something pyzhitsya, something all makes, prepares… (points to the basin and bucket), washes, obviously. Or are you doing the Laundry?

      Yura's outraged facial expressions and gestures speak for themselves.

      YURA (taken aback): A fool or what?

      SANYA (smoothing out the corners): Me? Yes, it seems not quite. It's just that the "tazovederny trains" in your house didn't cross my path before. And as for neither light