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

Kirill shakes his head understandingly.

Kirill: of COURSE, I understand.

Nellie returns with her daughter Marina, and Nellie hands the prescription to the doctor.

NELLIE: Here, I took the first and second at the pharmacy, but the rest they said – no.

DOCTOR: I see, well, then replace it with this, (writes something on a piece of paper) drink for four days, on the fifth to see me, I think everything will pass by then. We'll discharge you.

NELLIE (sadly): Okay, thanks.

The doctor stands up.

DOCTOR (Good to parents and children): Get well!

The doctor goes into the office, closes the door behind him.

Remain in the hallway, Cyril, Nelly, and Marina.

Cyril sees that Nelly is upset.

KIRILL (Nelly): is Everything okay?

NELLIE: I don't know… I wish it was better. I thought I'd be on sick leave for a couple of days at most and go back to work. And you'll have to sit for another week.

KIRILL: are you So eager to get to work?

: I would not rush, I do not work officially, sick leave is not paid. You want to go, you don't want to go, but you won't get any money either, and you can't raise a child by yourself… you won't run too far.

KIRILL: You are also alone…

Nelly sighs.

NELLIE: my Husband left two years ago.

Cyril looks at Nelly questioningly, but doesn't ask. She catches a questioning look on her face and explains.

NELLIE: I found a younger one.

KIRILL: Well, do you communicate? Helps, probably, all the same?

NELLIE (waving her hand): Yeah, talking. He doesn't even wish the child a happy birthday, much less me. There, the young woman turned his head thoroughly. He has a completely different life for a long time. We became strangers.

CYRIL: it turns out…

NELLY: what?

KIRILL: it turns out that we are comrades in misfortune, in a way.

NELLIE (smiles): So it turns out.

Dima returns with the drawing.

DIMA: everything is fine, I finished it (shows the drawing).

Kirill looks at the drawing.

KIRILL: Well, Yes, that's better. Aunts, uncles, children, umbrellas from the sun, towels, this is probably a blanket (asks, pointing to the drawing)?

DIMA: Yes.

KIRILL (Dima): Wait, where are we? Am I missing something?

Dima points at the drawing with his finger.

CYRIL: that's it?

DIMA: Yes.

KIRILL: Wait, I don't understand. But there are four people under the fungus. And there are two of us with you

, aren't there? : I just really want there to be four of us the next time we go to the beach. You, me, mom and sister.

Dad makes a duck-like gesture with surprise but approval.

CYRIL: that's Interesting.

NELLY: can I see it?

Kirill hands the drawing to Nelly. She studies him carefully, smiling.

Marina also goes to the drawing, also looks.

MARINA (seriously): She looks like me (pointing).

NELLIE (half laughing): Indeed, there are similarities.

DIMA: Well, that's right, I drew my sister from Marina.

There is an awkward pause.

Cyril and Nellie look at each other.

Kirill takes the drawing, looks at it, then looks at Marina, then at Nelly, then at the drawing.

KIRILL: Well, then… I don't mind.

Nellie takes the picture gently from his hands, Kirill, is also looking at the picture, then dim, then to Cyril. Then he looks down at the drawing.

NELLY: Yes, I am, in General, too.

Cyril and Nelly stare into each other's eyes.

Marina 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

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 nor SRA… (takes a breath) nor dawn, so it's you overreacted. What a morning, it's almost eleven o'clock!

Yura licks the remains of the porridge from the spoon and calls out to her mother with displeasure.

YURA (loudly, addressing the kitchen): Mom! Here it is… Need a rag… and grab a dustpan and brush!

Mom comes running with a rag, brush and dustpan, warmly greets Sanka. He's busy cleaning up after his son.

YURA (to her mother, incredulously): Mom, is it really eleven o'clock?

MOM (calmly, good): True, my son, it's already past eleven.

YURA (to her mother, indignantly): Why did you Wake me up so late? Didn't I ask you to Wake me up at nine? Today we have a business meeting with Sanka. I should have been prepared, at least had time to Wake up properly!

MOTHER (calmly, good): I did Wake you up, son. I came to you four times, but you didn't Wake up. He grumbled, swore, and threw a pillow at me one last time. Breakfast was already cold, and I had to warm it up. I tried, really.