Текст книги "Daredevil. Drama. Comedy. A play for 6-12 people"
Автор книги: Nikolay Lakutin
Жанр:
Искусство и Дизайн
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Nikolay Lakutin
Daredevil. Drama. Comedy. A play for 6-12 people
Attention! ALL COPYRIGHTS TO THE PLAY ARE PROTECTED BY THE LAWS OF RUSSIA, INTERNATIONAL LEGISLATION, AND BELONG TO THE AUTHOR. ITS PUBLICATION AND REPUBLICATION, REPRODUCTION, PUBLIC PERFORMANCE, TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, MAKING CHANGES TO THE TEXT OF THE PLAY WHEN STAGED WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR IS PROHIBITED. THE PRODUCTION OF THE PLAY IS POSSIBLE ONLY AFTER THE CONCLUSION OF A DIRECT CONTRACT BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND THE THEATER.
Comedy. Duration 1 hour.
ACTORS
Lydia is a saleswoman from a stall (about 55 years old).
Lidochka – she was in her youth (about 20 years old).
The 1st buyer is a cameo role.
The 2nd buyer is a cameo role.
The 3rd buyer is a cameo role.
The 4th buyer is a cameo role.
The old beggar woman is an episodic role.
Valery is a young guy (about 25 years old).
Arkady is a random passerby (about 20 years old).
Arkady (a bystander) is a man (about 55 years old).
Savely is a daddy. About 50 years old.
Stanislav is a boyfriend.
The roles of buyers are supposed to be combined with the acting male roles with the help of wigs, changing voices, clothes and the behavior of actors. The role of an old beggar woman is supposed to be combined with the role of Lydia in age. Thus, this play is designed for 6-12 people.
Scene 1.
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.
Scene 2.
Leto Street. Street.
A loud bright energetic youth musical composition sounds.
We give 5-6 seconds to the viewer to wait and anticipate.
And now Lidochka comes on stage. She's really pretty. In addition to the enviable natural figure and appearance, the girl is manicured, lips are summed up, eyebrows, eyelashes, haircut, outfit, tummy is bare – everything is just aerobatics.
Our Lidochka has dark glasses on the bridge of her nose, chewing gum in her mouth, she carries a tape recorder on her shoulder (you can Boombox), while dancing and enjoying it herself.
The girl knows her worth, knows that she is irresistible, knows that she is the center of the universe and actively uses it.
Lida puts the tape recorder on the floor, begins to dance actively, very beautifully, very cool, very impressive, very incendiary, very bright, so that the audience wants to jump out of their seats and start dancing – this is the female half, and the male half, so that they want not only to dance. We need to light it up straight, light it up straight!
The music fades a little, but it's still playing loudly. Valery appears on the scene.
A guy in a sporty suit (tracksuit, sneakers, bandit cap), a little gait, in his hand he twists a rosary.
Valery sees a girl, she becomes his center of attention, he begins to dance to the music, but he dances, figuratively speaking, unsightly. The guy in the dance moves around Lida on the one hand, examines her with an appreciative approving look, then dancing around on the other side, also approvingly evaluatively makes some conclusions of his own.
Lida pretends not to notice him, she is used to everyone's attention.
Valery comes closer in his dance, stands almost opposite Lida, cheekily smiles, complacently nods to the girl, that's what he is, they say.
The music stops.
Lida and Valery stop dancing.
The girl looks at the guy questioningly, turning off the tape recorder at the same moment when the music ends.
Lidochka (boldly, to the guy). What did you want?
Valery (cheekily, complacently, with a smile, in a pribandichennoy manner). Hello, hello, beautiful. What do you immediately gas up, let's whisper. Let's get acquainted first, and then we'll decide who!
Lidochka (boldly). Go your own way, decided! I have nothing to decide with someone like you.
Valery is in no hurry to leave, smiles, thinks how to "roll up" competently.
Lida, seeing that the guy does not leave, spreads her hands questioningly with a hit-and-run.
Lidochka (boldly, with a hit-and-run). Is your hearing bad? Get out of here, you defective!
Valery (cheekily, complacently, with a smile, in a pribandichennoy manner). Understood-understood, no question. Hormones, mood swings, these days. It's okay, no offense. Well, how about going for a ride with a defective… walking around the city in the evening? M? I have a candy machine. Rushes so that only the fur coat is wrapped.
They stand and look at each other.
Valery (cheekily, complacently, with a smile, in a pribandichennoy manner). Well, how about a ride? Let's wrap up the fur coat, huh?
Lida, smiling slyly, comes with an imposing gait closer to Valery, skeptically shakes her head, vaguely waving her eyebrows. Removes sunglasses with one hand. He smiles, grabs the boy by the throat with an unexpected sharp movement and pulls him to his face.
Lidochka (audaciously hissing in the guy's ear). You'll roll up to me again with your fur coat, and you'll be riding in a wheelchair for the rest of your life. You're not the first one so smart.
Lida pushes the bewildered guy by the throat.
Lidochka (calmly, with confidence). Did you explain it more clearly now?
Valery (cautiously, cautiously). Everything… Sorry, girlfriend, I got confused.
Valery hurriedly leaves the stage, Lida follows him with a confident, strong look. You can hear the sound of the car engine starting, the roar of the engine and a couple of beeps.
Lida, as if saying goodbye, shows this guy a "viva" sign (two fingers, index and middle) as a farewell, leaving by car out of our sight.
Lidochka (to the viewer, wearily). Guys stick at every step. Get to know everyone, sit somewhere, take a ride on something. Go out with them somewhere… Yes, I know their plans. Yet they are visible through and through. Nothing interesting. Nothing unexpected, nothing intriguing. Of course, I have several suitors in mind. With money, with prospects… But it is… Just in case. But for the soul… I never met anyone. In general, I made conclusions for myself that external data does not play a special role in the issue of happy relationships. In the matter of successful marriages of convenience, or something akin to this, yes. In order to sell yourself more expensive– you need to be a beauty, and this costs a lot of money and nerves. Therefore, definitely, if the goal is money, then you need to sell yourself more expensive! Well and… if the goal is still mutual understanding and kinship of souls… The one here looks almost does not play a role at all. I honestly do not know how to act in this case and how it works, but I have a suspicion that a pretty appearance in this case even hinders. After all, only the brave approach the pretty ones. And the brave are most often boors! Rich little sons, to whom the law is unwritten, a criminal element, who are crazy for the whole head, or partially. In general, those who saw, wanted and approached. And modest normal guys with an understanding of out-of-body values – they are still more timid in the matter of relationships. They usually avoid the beautiful ones. Well, or if they don't bypass, then they aim for a long time… And while they are aiming, their object of lust will be taken away ten times already. And if they don't take you away before that, then, of course, they will take you away after… And they know it all perfectly well, that's why the attitude towards us, the beautiful, is obviously biased. And we're not all mercantile bitches. We also want to be happy, but these are the only ones who come to us (points in the direction of the departed Valery). Well, you've seen it. So what's left for us? We can't approach the normal ones ourselves… That's all that remains is to rely on fate.
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