A play for 10 people. Drama. Comedy. Understand a man. Nikolay Lakutin

awake, tries to smooth his hair on his head, goes to the sofa, finds his pants there, pulls them on, sits down, invites a friend with a gesture.

      Oleg (with a slightly uplifted voice). Come on in, buddy, what are you standing for?

      Demyan slowly approaches the table, looks into the pot.

      Oleg, looking at his friend, explains.

      Oleg (with a slightly uplifted voice). Yes, I boiled potatoes yesterday, but I couldn't eat something. It doesn't go down my throat.

      Demyan shakes his head understandingly, looks at his friend, tragically takes a half-empty glass in his hand, exhales sharply and with a bold movement, with all male solidarity, in order to share the grief, drinks the contents of the glass. But immediately the shower blows out what he drank, spits out.

      Demyan (indignantly, with incomprehension). What is this?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). Water…

      Demyan (indignantly, with incomprehension). Water? What the hell? Your wife left you, and you drink water?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). Vodka doesn't go down your throat either. I've been thinking about her, but even the smell itself is disgusting. So… I drank some water, didn't eat anything, and went to bed last night.

      Demyan puts the glass on the table, takes the situation into his own hands.

      Demyan (busily). So! Clear.

      Demyan takes off his outerwear – a jacket. He throws her on the sofa, next to Oleg. He rubs his hands, goes to the kitchen.

      Oleg is sitting helplessly on the sofa, just watching his friend with his eyes.

      Demyan brings a plate with sausage slicing from the kitchen. Cheese brings, cuts right here on the table. He brings two small glasses and cognac.

      He pours a little bit, raises his glass, hands the second one to a friend.

      Oleg doubts, he doesn't really want to.

      Demyan (insistently). Come on, come on! I'm not going to get you drunk, but for the expansion of the joints, twenty drops are needed now.

      Demyan still hands a glass to Oleg.

      Demyan (insistently). Without clinking glasses. Come on!

      Demyan quickly drains the glass. Oleg repeats. Proceed to the snack.

      Demyan (chewing sausage, talking at this time). I didn't find any bread there. Is it over, or is it still lying somewhere?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). No… that's not the point. Taisiya tried very hard to follow the figure. And bread makes you fat, so we can say that there is no bread in our house. So only, sometimes yeast-free.

      Demyan (leaning on the cheese). Are you a friend? How can you live without bread?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). I do not know, I eat bread at work, and my son is at school. Normally, we almost didn't feel discomfort.

      Demyan (taking aim at the sausage again). Well, how about the weekend?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). My wife didn't like to cook. We ordered mostly. When we eat sushi, when we order food. Manti, kebabs. Instead of bread, lavash was bought as a last resort. Shawarma, different pies with fish and liver. Sweet Taisiya did not order, puked the figure. We supported her in this.

      Demyan (cutting the cheese). More precisely, they groveled.

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). Maybe so…

      Demyan (putting aside cheese and knife, hands on hips). You know, old man, I was silent, I didn't get into your business, but I'll tell you now. I've never liked your Taisiya. I'm sorry, of course, but I couldn't tell you about it while you were together. I'm talking now. She just pushed you around. Both you and Vovka. You have a good kid, but what kind of lesson does he get in life? That the wife is the boss in the house, not even that the owner, but the dictator! He will find the same wife for himself later! Let's do this. Everything that is not being done is for the best.

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). Only if the last one!

      Demyan (wielding a bottle and glasses). Certainly. After all, drunks are not the ones who drink! These are the ones who can't stop after the second one. We can. Right?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). That's right… they

      deal with the second portion of twenty drops.

      Demyan closes the bottle, puts it under the table.

      Demyan (busily). Let's do this. Today, and maybe tomorrow you will definitely be up to nothing. I know how you've always treated your wife. The breakup will be painful for you. But… Fortunately, you have a friend like me. Let's try to smooth out the corners. Let's do this. Today, sleep, TV, house cleaning and shower. Surely, after yesterday, Mamai passed in your closets?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). Still how passed.

      Demyan (busily). Well. You sort it all out, sort it out in a new way. If necessary, I will help, wipe the shelves, scatter, whatever you say…

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). No, no, thanks. I'll figure it out. I'd rather be alone for now, alone with myself, with my thoughts. That's just such monotonous work will be very useful.

      Demyan (busily). Well, welcome. Then do all these things today, and tomorrow I'll look in on you in the evening, after work. Do not put away sports things far away, from tomorrow we will start jogging with you. A couple of laps around our skyscrapers, to the fruit and back. For now, I think that's enough, but then we'll get better – we'll increase the distance. Okay?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). I can't say that I'm really eager to run, but… It looks like you're right, I think I really need it right now. We need to do something to occupy ourselves somehow. Otherwise I'll go crazy.

      Demyan (busily). Then it's a deal!

      They shake hands.

      Demyan (busily). So after work, we'll have dinner, an hour will settle down and… come on, I'm at your place at eight o'clock. Is it okay?

      Oleg (calmly, but lost). Just right.

      Demyan (busily). Well, that's it then…

      Demyan gets up, wipes his hands on a napkin, takes his jacket, puts it on, goes to the exit.

      Demyan (turns around, looks sternly seriously at his friend). Oleg, how are you? Is everything okay? Can I leave you alone?

      Oleg (trying to hold on). Yes, my friend, thank you. Tomorrow at eight. Thanks for stopping by.

      Demyan nods, after seriously examining the room and Oleg for the last time, and leaves.

      ZTM

      Scene 3

      House. Room. The room is in order. It is clear that the master's hand had a place to be here. Everything is in place, but somehow in a different way.

      Oleg and Demyan are returning from a run. Both are somewhat out of breath, still partially at a running pace, in tracksuits, everything is as it should be.

      Demyan comes in second, closes the door behind him and immediately sits down on the floor with his back to the door. Trying to catch his breath.

      Oleg, at a barely noticeable running pace, makes a couple more circles around the table.

      Oleg (relatively cheerfully). Demyan, what are you doing? You can't change the pace abruptly right after a run like that. Don't you know? First, we take a step, then we can sit down. But not immediately.

      Oleg takes a step, but continues to walk around the table.

      Oleg (relatively cheerfully). Come on, come on, get up, walk a little…

      Demyan begins to walk with his feet, but his ass is still on the floor, and his back, as before, holds the door.

      Demyan (wearily). Walking on the spot. Will that do?

      Oleg (relatively cheerfully). This is you "sitting" on the spot, and not walking on the spot turns out. But… At least so.

      The men stop their move. Both are located on the sofa. Oleg sits down first, Demyan crawls on all fours