Текст книги "Theater Plays"

Автор книги: Valentin Krasnogorov

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Let's have sex!

Давай займемся сексом!

A strange tragicomedy in two acts

Translated from Russian by Eugene Reznikov and James Walker.

Synopsis

Every personage of this strange, absurd play talks and thinks only about sex. But the frivolous title of this comedy is delusive: the drama is complicated, tragic, and at the same time, amusing. It is difficult to define the genre of this play. It may be called both a psychological drama, and a theater of the absurd, a play that deals with paradox, a philosophical play…. It may be defined as a comedy, but it will not be a mistake to call it also a tragedy. The characters come from nowhere and leave to nowhere. They are familiar to each other and at the same time seem to see each other for the first time. There are 5 characters in the play: the Husband, the Wife, the Sister, the Girl, and the Professor. They are quite real and authentic. At the same time, it is difficult to understand, whether the Wife really is someone’s wife, the Professor – a real professor, etc. There is no plot in the traditional meaning of the word. The play is constructed on the principle of a rondo: movement goes in a circle, or, more precisely, along a spiral. The characters’ actions are motivated by loneliness, by their yearning for love and emotion, their desire to escape from their problems. Or maybe all these conversations are simply the product of a deranged mind? The play has been staged in Moscow by the most famous theater director of Russia, Roman Viktyuk, and is an enormous success. The play is also performed by theaters of Australia, Bolgaria, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Great Britain, India, Montenegro, Mongolia, Poland, Rumania,Turkey, and Ukraina. 2 men and 3 women. Interior .

CHARACTERS

HUSBAND

WIFE

PROFESSOR

GIRL

SISTER

Part 1

The stage can represent an empty space. The room may be furnished with nothing more than a table, some chairs and an armchair.

The HUSBAND is reading a book. The WIFE enters. The HUSBAND continues to read. The WIFE goes out, enters again. The HUSBAND continues to read.

WIFE. Let's have sex.

HUSBAND. OK. (Continues to read.)

WIFE. Let's have sex!

HUSBAND. (Continues to read.) OK!

WIFE. I said – let's have sex!

HUSBAND. What?

WIFE. Sex!!

HUSBAND. Right now?

WIFE. Why not?

HUSBAND. Just let me finish reading this page.

WIFE. What if I want it right now?

HUSBAND. What has come over you?

WIFE. Nothing. Do you have any objections?

HUSBAND. Me? No. (Continues to read.)

WIFE. Well?

HUSBAND. Well, what?

WIFE. You said that you have no objection.

HUSBAND. To what?

WIFE. To doing it.

HUSBAND. Doing what?

WIFE. Put down the book, or I’ll throw it out the window.

HUSBAND. The book doesn’t have anything to do with it.

WIFE. I know that it doesn’t. But you don’t want me throw you out the window, do you?

HUSBAND. What do you want from me?

WIFE. I have said, let's have sex.

HUSBAND. You interrupted me in a particularly interesting place – he is sneaking up to her bed with a gun.

WIFE. Nobody sneaks up to my bed.

HUSBAND. That’s good.

WIFE. I am not so sure.

HUSBAND. (Furtively glancing at the book.) I think he’s going to kill her now.

WIFE. (Grabs out the book away from him and throws it into the corner.) I will kill you now.

HUSBAND. What do you want from me?

WIFE. Nothing. A woman is not supposed to want it. You are the one who is supposed to want it.

HUSBAND. You seem very irritable today.

WIFE. There is nothing wrong with me.

HUSBAND. Did something happen at work?

WIFE. Do people have sex only when something happens at work?

HUSBAND. No. Not necessarily.

WIFE. Thank God. Otherwise else I would think that nothing ever happens to you at work.

HUSBAND. I think that now it is not the right time, and this is not the right place.

WIFE. For you, never is the right time and nowhere is the right place for sex.

HUSBAND. Somebody could come in …

WIFE. But we’re alone now, so let’s hurry!

HUSBAND. You know, it would be inappropriate here.

WIFE. So tell me when and where it would be appropriate for you? Why does it always have to be in the matrimonial bed, always at the same time, on the weekend, ten minutes after the light is turned off? Why not in the morning, why not in the afternoon? Why always lying in bed? Why not standing up or sitting down? Why not on the floor or on a table? Why not on the washing machine? Why not on a swing in the garden? Why not on a roll of barbed wire? Why not by candlelight? Why don’t you take me by surprise, without warning, when I’m not expecting it, where it’s inconvenient? Why does it always have to be at home, in a warm and comfortable room, when we’re yawning before going to sleep, in the same everlasting bed?

HUSBAND. Because… Because in the bed is more convenient.

WIFE. More convenient? Then why are the times on the back seat of a cramped car, or in a forest on an ant hill, or on a dark backstairs the ones we remember forever, while matrimonial caresses at home, in the soft, wide, convenient bed so suitable for sexual pleasure are forgotten in ten minutes?

HUSBAND. Because… I don’t know why.

WIFE. Why don’t you come up to me when I’m washing the dishes and take me from behind? Why don’t you look for a chance, why don’t you pursue me? Why I am always sure that you won’t do anything unexpected? Why not at a symphony concert? Why not in someone else’s apartment, where somebody might come in at any moment?

HUSBAND. Somebody could come in here at any moment.

WIFE. Well, let them. Let something happen at last. I don’t want to be stuck inevitably doing the same thing over and over. I want unpredictability. I want to not know what awaits me tonight. Maybe a meeting with a girlfriend in a cafe, or maybe a party at somebody’s home… Or a quiet walk alone through the park, or taking a rest in an armchair with a book in my hands, or an unexpected rendezvous on a dark beach under the stars… Under the bright stars in a mysterious black sky… White sand, pounding waves, the passionate embrace of unfamiliar arms, hands greedily exploring a new and unfamiliar body – my body – that longs impatiently for those arms… But none of this will ever be, and I know precisely what will happen today, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. It seems as if my life has already ended, because I already know everything; I’ve already gone through everything. There is nothing new left to happen. I’m not living, I only continue to exist. I read the same page of the same book, and it is so boring to me, boring, boring… It’s so boring to me! Let's have sex!

HUSBAND. My God, again?

WIFE. “Again”? Did we already do it?

HUSBAND. In general or today?

WIFE. What happened in general, I don’t remember anymore. There never was anything, and there never will be. All that there is, is “now.” Why do we live only in the past or in the future? Why not to try to live now, and so that "now" can make us happy? Let's have…

HUSBAND.… Sex.

WIFE. Yes. For a change.

HUSBAND. I don’t know what has come over you. You sound so cynical. Such a matter-of-fact and naked way of putting it: “Let's have sex.”

WIFE. And what do you want me to say? “Let's make love”? Love? Doesn’t that seem ridiculous to you? Aren’t you embarrassed? Doesn’t it sound cynical? And you don’t seem to approve of the word “naked.” Better to be clothed. In a long coat, for example. All buttoned up.

HUSBAND. In a decent society they don’t talk about sex.

WIFE. You might think that in a decent society they don’t have sex.

HUSBAND. They do, but they just don’t talk about it.

WIFE. But each of us is not first and foremost an executive, a teacher, an engineer, a doctor or a member of parliament. First of all we are men and women. Why shouldn’t we think about it and talk about it? Why should I be ashamed of what is natural? Of what gives me pleasure?

HUSBAND. You shouldn’t be ashamed, but you shouldn’t talk about it either.

WIFE. And what do they talk about in a decent society?

HUSBAND. I don’t know. About money.

WIFE. You want me to talk to you about money? About what you call your salary? Well then, let's talk about money.

HUSBAND. No, better not.

WIFE. And what is so cynical in the word "sex"? It is matter-of-fact – I agree. But sex is a fact of life. A part of our lovely, comfortable, boring, miserable everyday life. You say, “Let's have supper.” So why can’t I say, “Let's have sex”? Let's watch TV. Let's go shopping. Let's go to the movies. Let's have sex. Let's take out the trash. Let’s do the laundry. Let's have sex. Let's call up some friends. Let's…

HUSBAND. Enough!

WIFE.… Let's move the furniture. Let's buy a teapot. Let's have sex. Let's go to bed… Does “Let's go to bed” sound cynical too?

HUSBAND. It depends on with whom.

WIFE. With my husband.

HUSBAND. With your husband it does not sound cynical.

WIFE. It doesn’t sound anything at all.

HUSBAND. So tell me, are you having a hard time at work?

WIFE. I’m having a hard time at home. At home, not only do I not have sex, but I’m also forbidden to talk of it.

HUSBAND. Why should we talk about it?

WIFE. Precisely because we don’t do it. And what else should I talk about? About the children that I don’t have?

HUSBAND. What has come over you today?

WIFE. Nothing. Today I want to talk about sex, again about sex and only about sex. Even if it’s just for today. Even if only to talk. I kept silent about it all my life. I talked about everything in the world. About Beethoven and the prices at the market. About skirts and French painting. About local elections and the boss’s tie. So really, do Beethoven, French painting, prices, skirts, elections and the boss’s tie interest you and me more than sex?

HUSBAND. Skirts interest you.

WIFE. And you too.

HUSBAND. Everything about a woman interests me.

WIFE. Yes. Everything between her knees and her waist.

HUSBAND. I’m a normal man.

WIFE. I wish I was sure of that.

HUSBAND. You are talking recklessly.

WIFE. That’s good. I grew up inhibited and uptight. Sex was forbidden. Nobody spoke about it. It was obscene, done only at night. Only with the shades down and the lights off. So that nobody would see, even yourself. It was forbidden to remember it in the morning or discuss it at work. We were sexless. We had nothing between our legs. And now they do it in broad daylight. Now they show it at the movies. Now they write about it in children's books. Recently I found twenty-two tips on how to use birth-control in a magazine for schoolgirls. And I had never read about it before.

HUSBAND. So what do you want?

WIFE. To take the taboo off of sex. To free it from sin. To lift the veil of secrecy from it. To stop alluding to it. To call things by their proper names. Penis. Orgasm. Vagina.

HUSBAND. You’re crazy..

WIFE. Yes, I’ll repeat the word "vagina" twenty times, two hundred times, until the word starts to sound neutral, sterile, medical. Until you stop reacting to it; until people who hear it stop giggling, or being offended by the vulgarity of it, stop being indignant or getting excited. Vagina, vagina, vagina…

HUSBAND. Stop it!

WIFE. Vagina, vagina, vagina…

HUSBAND. You’re crazy.

WIFE. And you’re a hypocrite. A puritan. What is more attractive to you than a vagina? What do you see in your dreams? What do you pay the most attention to when you look at paintings in museums? What is the main thing for you in a woman? The eyes? The smile? Well, answer me!

HUSBAND. You’re crazy.

WIFE. I know. This life is enough to drive anyone crazy. Have I ever truly lived? What have I seen? What have I done? Home and work, home and work, home and work… And what happens at home? What happens at work? Where is my life? What have I done with it? So there is only one thing left to do – try to lose myself in sex and forget all my petty problems. They not worth worrying about anyway, but still they overwhelm and oppress me. To stop hating myself, even for just ten minutes. Not to think, even for just one second. Not to remember. Not to care. Just feel. The joy of being alive. The pleasure. The delight of taking and being taken. Man and woman are always in a state of war, and sex is the one moment of truce, the one field of mutual understanding and attraction. The one moment when you don’t feel lonely. An act of unity, a time of reconciliation with life, an illusion of love, a glimpse of happiness, an opportunity for self-affirmation.

Pause.

HUSBAND. Well, if you really want to have sex with me…

WIFE. With you? What makes you think that?

HUSBAND. You said, “Let's have sex.”

WIFE. But I didn’t say, “with you.” Just “Let's have sex.”

HUSBAND. Not necessarily with me?

WIFE. No, not necessarily.

HUSBAND. With whom then?

WIFE. Do you have anyone else that you can have sex with but me?

HUSBAND. Not right at this moment.

WIFE. What about other times?

HUSBAND. Theoretically – with anybody.

WIFE. Leave the theory aside, let’s get to the practice.

HUSBAND. I am tired of your nagging.

WIFE. My poor, unfortunate husband. He’s tired to death of sex. Apparently, forever.

HUSBAND. You know, I’ve had enough of you. Maybe you really think I am your husband, but I don’t consider you my wife. And I am not going to have sex with a strange woman.

WIFE. Why do you think I want to have sex?

HUSBAND. Well, what do you want?

WIFE. Nothing. That’s the problem. I don’t want anything. I’m depressed. Every day the same thing. I am so depressed…

HUSBAND. So why torment me? Why ask for sex if you don’t want it? Just to spite me?

WIFE. Have I no right to talk? I’m your wife!

HUSBAND. Leave me alone! You are not my wife! I hate the very word "wife"! My wife has ruined my life! My wife has driven me crazy! Stop it! Leave me alone! (Leaves.)

WIFE. (Alone). A little more of this, and I really will go crazy. I have to save myself. I need a change. As soon as possible… Otherwise it will be too late. As soon as possible… What to do? What to do?

PROFESSOR. (Entering). What to do? I’ll tell you. Let’s have sex.

WIFE. That’s a surprising proposition.

PROFESSOR. Good! Sex shouldn’t be planned. It’s only good when it’s spontaneous. It should be sudden like a whirlwind, unexpected like an earthquake. It should catch us by surprise, when we’re not hoping for it, where it doesn’t seem possible. Do you agree?

WIFE. Yes.

PROFESSOR. Then let’s start now.

WIFE. Not so fast.

PROFESSOR. But you said you agreed.

WIFE. I agree in principle. Not to your proposition, but to what you said about the whirlwind and earthquake.

PROFESSOR. If you agree in principle, then let’s get started. We can work out the details as we go along. Or when we’re done.

WIFE. I don’t have time.

PROFESSOR. Neither do I. So let’s not waste it. Let’s get started right away.

WIFE. I am not used to doing it “right away.” I need time.

PROFESSOR. Nonsense. Imagine you’ve been swept up by a whirlwind.

WIFE. Besides, we don’t really have time. By the way, what time is it?

PROFESSOR. You’re kidding! Who has sex with a watch in his hand?

WIFE. What makes you think that I want to have sex?

PROFESSOR. Everybody wants to have sex.

WIFE. But not me.

PROFESSOR. So what do you want to do? Learn to speak German?

WIFE. I don’t want to do anything. And definitely not have sex.

PROFESSOR. You don’t want to have sex at all or just right now?

WIFE. Not at all.

PROFESSOR. That’s why you’ve called me?

WIFE. Me? I didn’t called you. Who are you, anyway?

PROFESSOR. I am a world-famous professor of psychiatry, psychology and sociology. A sexologist and sex pathologist. Treatment, consulting, lecturing. I get rid of complexes, inspire self-confidence, free people of their inhibitions. I cure frigidity and impotence. I satisfy the unsatisfied. It’s very hard work. Lots of calls. I get very tired.

WIFE. Are you a doctor?

PROFESSOR. Not exactly. I am a sex consultant. I teach, give advice, help to solve problems, cure any illness, everything.

WIFE. Why everything, if you’re just an expert on sex?

PROFESSOR. Because lack of sex is the cause of all illnesses. Now do you understand why you feel bad?

WIFE. What makes you think that I feel bad?

PROFESSOR. You told me you don’t want to have sex. That’s a type of derangement.

WIFE. Do you think I’m crazy?

PROFESSOR. No, I didn’t say that. Madness is normal because we all live in a mad world. The abnormal one is the person who’s normal. But I’ll cure you.

WIFE. How?

PROFESSOR. I have a universal remedy: sex three times a day. Instead of meals.

WIFE. I agree.

PROFESSOR. Excellent. But the patient has to be very healthy to take this cure. Are you healthy?

WIFE. Yes.

PROFESSOR. Then there’s no need for me to treat you. So let’s just have sex. Do you know what it is?

WIFE. I once knew, but I’ve forgotten.

PROFESSOR. Do you have a husband?

WIFE. A husband and sex are two different things. And besides, I’m not sure if I have him.

PROFESSOR. What?! You don’t even know if you have a husband?

WIFE. I have him, but I don’t know whether he is my husband.

PROFESSOR. My dear, now I see. You need to start life all over again. And I’ll help you. Nobody in the entire world knows what sex is, but me. I have devoted myself to it completely. I have given it the best years of my life. I studied it in libraries and archives, at lectures and in museums, at conferences and seminars.

WIFE. And nowhere else?

PROFESSOR. If you mean nitty-gritty experience, perhaps that may be good for an amateur, but not for a top-notch professional. You can’t even imagine what a rich world will be opened up for you when I start sharing my knowledge! Primitive sex. Ancient sex. Greek and Roman sex. Medieval sex. Renaissance sex. Baroque and Classical sex. Romantic sex. Modern sex. Oriental sex. French sex. Sex of all countries, times, and peoples. And we’ll start learning all this right now.

WIFE. Right now? I clearly told you, I am not in the mood for sex right now.

PROFESSOR. We’ll have sex in the academic sense. A course of four hundred and eighty hours, for a start. We will study the theoretical principles. The history. The social aspects. Practical applications. Tantra and the Kama Sutra. Pictures. Films. Physiology and psychology. Hygiene and techniques. Exercises for the hands and legs. Voice training: shouting, sighing, groaning. Resisting, relaxing, surrendering. Pretending.

WIFE. I already know how to pretend.

PROFESSOR. I will teach you how to pretend so well that you’ll believe it yourself.

WIFE. And when I learn all this, then what?

PROFESSOR. Then everything will still be the same. But you will never learn everything. Sex is a boundless science. A science that brings us happiness. All your life is not enough to explore it completely, even if you start from childhood and don’t stop until you die. This subject should be taught in school. Why do we have to learn algebra, which is of no use to anybody, and not sex, which everybody needs all the time? Tell me, have you ever needed to know Newton’s binomial theorem?

WIFE. Never.

PROFESSOR. And yet sex is with us always and everywhere. It accompanies us all our life. It warms us in the winter and cools us in the hot summer. It soothes us but does not let us rest. It’s a magic elixir which gives us a sense of youth and happiness. That’s why we love it so much.

WIFE. Right now I detest it.

PROFESSOR. Don’t deceive yourself. It’s not sex that you feel an aversion to, but your partner. Change partners. Three times a day. Start today. I will teach you. Right now. You are a beautiful woman, and it is your duty to be happy. My services are expensive, but I am willing to teach you for free.

WIFE. I always thought that in circumstances like this the teacher pays, not the girl. And I didn’t call you.

PROFESSOR. Called me, didn’t call me, what’s the difference? Remember, we don’t have much time. Let’s get started. One, two, three, go!

Pause.

WIFE. How do we start?

PROFESSOR. You see, you don’t even know how to start. One, two, three, go!

Pause.

One, two, three!

WIFE. Stop that. It would be better if you teach me…

PROFESSOR. Teach you what?

WIFE. How to live differently. Not like I live now. Better. More sensibly.

PROFESSOR. To live differently? It’s very simple. To live in another way you must live with another partner. This idea might seem like a commonplace joke to you, but it’s true. You can’t change yourself now – so left to your own devices you will always live the same way you have before. But life with another man will force you to live differently.

WIFE. Better or worse?

PROFESSOR. Worse for sure. But differently. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

WIFE. I don’t even know what I want. I only know what I don’t want. To live here. To live like this. A miserable, boring life. Alone. People are alienated and crazy. Their favorite pastime is tormenting each other. I want to run away. Doesn’t it seem to you that everybody has gone mad?

PROFESSOR. No, it doesn’t just seem that way, that’s the way it really is. So there is nowhere to run away to.

WIFE. The years will pass like peas in a pod, but each one uglier than the one before. The end will come, and I’ll ask myself, what did I live for? Did I ever live at all?

PROFESSOR. My dear, life does not and cannot have any meaning, except for the continuation of life. In other words, the meaning of life is sex. Sex is the affirmation, continuation and celebration of life. You and I are ants, and nature does not care about each separate ant. Its goal is to preserve the anthill.

WIFE. I despise the human anthill.

PROFESSOR. An anthill? That’s an undeserved compliment for our society. Ants work together in harmony, while we are a society of competitors, where everybody is wolf to each other.

WIFE. I don’t know how to solve my problems anymore.

PROFESSOR. Don’t complicate things. All problems come from sex. Happy sex – happy life, bad sex – unhappy life. That's all. Is your sex life good?

WIFE. No.

PROFESSOR. And the rest of your life?

WIFE. No.

PROFESSOR. Q.E.D.

WIFE. That’s why I want to run away. Away from this life.

PROFESSOR. To tell the truth, so do I. Who will you run away with?

WIFE. Alone.... But it would be better with somebody.

PROFESSOR. Together is certainly better.

WIFE. Why don’t we run away together?

PROFESSOR. I am asking myself the same question.

WIFE. And what is your answer?

PROFESSOR. Let’s do it. That’s what I offered to do when I first got here.

WIFE. You offered to have sex when you first got here.

PROFESSOR. Sex is just an escape from life.

WIFE. I thought it was life itself.

PROFESSOR. Let’s not argue. We don’t have much time.

WIFE. So you’ll take me with you?

PROFESSOR. I’ll abduct you, steal you, take you away, carry you away in my arms.

WIFE. Where to?

PROFESSOR. Nowhere.

WIFE. That’s the problem.

PROFESSOR. But we have to run away all the same.

WIFE. Where to?

PROFESSOR. That’s not important. The main thing is not to stop. Not to think. Not to look back. Give me your hand.

WIFE. Right now?

PROFESSOR. Otherwise someone will come and it will be too late.

WIFE. Then wait here, I’ll just get some things to take with me.

WIFE leaves. Pause. GIRL enters.

GIRL. Let’s have sex.

PROFESSOR. So it was you who called me?

GIRL. Me? Called you? What for?

PROFESSOR. To have sex, I believe.

GIRL. No, it wasn’t me. But I’m ready.

PROFESSOR. So who called me?

GIRL. If someone wanted to have sex, just presume it was me that called. A very urgent call. Let's start immediately.

PROFESSOR. That’s just what I wanted to suggest. Who are you, by the way?

GIRL. I work with the husband.

PROFESSOR. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

GIRL. Whether it’s a pleasure or not, we’ll soon find out, I hope. (Starts to unbutton her dress.)

PROFESSOR. And why don’t you have sex with the husband?

GIRL. With whose husband?

PROFESSOR. With yours, for a change.

GIRL. I don’t have a husband.

PROFESSOR. But you work with him!

GIRL. I work with him, but he is not my husband.

PROFESSOR. That changes things completely. If he isn’t your husband, it is simply your duty to have unlimited sex with him. Especially since you work together. It’s very convenient and saves time.

GIRL. Unfortunately, he’s terribly busy.

PROFESSOR. Busy? At work!? With what? Impossible! What can keep a person busy at work?

GIRL. Sex, of course.

PROFESSOR. That’s different.

GIRL. I make out his daily schedule for him and keep a record of his work: the beginning of sex, the end of it, with whom, when, on whose recommendation, who’s next. It’s a lot of work.

PROFESSOR. If he’s so busy, you should have sex with someone else.

GIRL. That’s just what I proposed to you.

PROFESSOR. My pleasure.

GIRL. I want to make sure of that.

PROFESSOR. You are in luck: you’ve found the right person.

GIRL. Prove it.

PROFESSOR. My reputation does not require any proof. My name speaks for itself.

GIRL. And who are you?

PROFESSOR. I am a world-famous professor of psychiatry, psychology and sociology. A sex consultant. I get rid of complexes, inspire self-confidence, free people of their inhibitions. I cure frigidity and impotence. I satisfy the unsatisfied. I teach, give advice, help to solve problems. I cure all illnesses.

GIRL. I would like to become such a consultant, too.

PROFESSOR. Then I’ll teach you. Do you know who said the famous words: "I have taken all knowledge…."

GIRL. “…to be my province.”

PROFESSOR. Exactly right. It is me who said it.

GIRL. I didn’t know that.

PROFESSOR. There are still many things you don’t know.

GIRL. So let's study. I’m very curious. Let’s start right now.

PROFESSOR. Good. We shall begin by checking your sexuality.

The GIRL starts to undress.

No, don’t undress! It’s not necessary.

GIRL. (Disappointedly). Not necessary? Then how will you check me?

PROFESSOR. I have a special system of tests. Sit down facing me and concentrate.

They sit down opposite each other.

Are you ready?

GIRL. Yes.

PROFESSOR. (Takes out a pen.) Tell me, what does this pen remind you of?

GIRL. Sex.

PROFESSOR. Very interesting. Well, what does this armchair remind you of?

GIRL. Sex.

PROFESSOR. What? Sex again? But why?!

GIRL. Everything reminds me of sex.

PROFESSOR. But tell me what an armchair has to do with to sex?

GIRL. Oh, it has a lot to do with sex. If you only knew, professor, how many of my fantasies involve an armchair! Unfortunately, they’re only fantasies and not memories.

PROFESSOR. I am giving you the highest score! A hundred points. You have a rich imagination.

GIRL. I have a normal imagination. The trembling sails full of desire to be opened and give themselves up to the wind; the ray of sunshine piercing the moist depth of the sea; the clouds merging with each other; the train confidently entering the tunnel; the smokestack of a power plant; the trunk of a poplar; a candle – all of these represent the same thing to me. A carrot is a man; a turnip, a woman. A banana is a man, too – what a man! And potatoes, beet, apples, porridge – all of these are women.

PROFESSOR. You have amazing abilities. I need to learn from you, not you from me.

GIRL. The sister says that I am crazy.

PROFESSOR. Forget the sister. Trust me. You are normal. She isn’t.

GIRL. I live in a world of symbols: a spoon and a plate…

PROFESSOR. (Joining in).… a cylinder and a piston…

GIRL.… a ring and a finger…

PROFESSOR.… an arm and a sleeve…

GIRL.… a seed and the soil…

PROFESSOR.… a blade and a sheath…

GIRL.… a key and a lock…

PROFESSOR.… all these are symbols of the eternal union of man and woman. Each is meaningless and impossible without the other.

GIRL. Don’t stop talking! It’s getting me so excited!

PROFESSOR. Tell me, what do you know about sex? No, let me put it another way. What don’t you know yet about sex?

GIRL. I have to admit, I don’t know what sex is at all. I’ve never had it. That’s why it’s so interesting to me.

PROFESSOR. We shall start having it, and we shall have it for a very long time, all day long, from morning till evening, and from evening till morning, and you will learn everything. We’ll start right now.

GIRL. Now? I’m afraid we can’t do it now.

PROFESSOR. Why?

GIRL. We can’t do it here.

PROFESSOR. I know. But why not try?

GIRL. (Looking around and lowering her voice.) Can you keep a secret?

PROFESSOR. Yes. But you’d better not tell it to me anyway.

GIRL. No, I’ll tell you. I want to escape.

PROFESSOR. You, too? Where will you go?

GIRL. Where everything is different. And why do you say, “you, too”? Do you want to escape, too?

PROFESSOR. Who doesn’t?

GIRL. Then we will run away together, while we have the chance.

PROFESSOR. Dear, how can I run away? I don’t run anymore, I shuffle. I don’t breathe, I gasp for breath. A few steps more and my run on this earth will be finished.

GIRL. Oh, don’t talk about these awful things! Follow my example and think only of sex. Think about it all the time, so you won’t think about anything else. Do you understand me? I forbid you to think about anything else. We’ll run away from here, and you’ll live another thousand years. Are you ready to go?

PROFESSOR. (Stretching out his hand.) With you – to the ends of the earth.

GIRL. Let's leave at once, right now, without losing a moment, not stopping, not looking back, otherwise it will be too late. (She pulls the Professor toward the exit, but he stops suddenly.)

PROFESSOR. Wait! I just remembered; I can’t.

GIRL. Why? Are you afraid?

PROFESSOR. I am. But that’s not the point.

GIRL. What then?

PROFESSOR. I just promised a lady that I would run away with her.

GIRL. So…?

PROFESSOR. I ought to at least explain to her…

GIRL. Why do you think you have to explain anything? Are you the first man to leave a woman?

PROFESSOR. No, but…

GIRL. Did you have an affair with her?

PROFESSOR. Not exactly, but…

GIRL. Whether you did or didn’t, it doesn’t matter. Sex is no reason to talk things over or prolong a relationship.

PROFESSOR. But since we’ve gotten to know each other…

GIRL. (Interrupting). So what? Sex is no cause for acquaintance. But if you’re so scrupulous, leave her a note. Get out your remarkable pen. Write: (Dictates). “My dear, don’t worry. I have run away with another woman. I won’t be back anytime soon.”.

PROFESSOR. (Gets out his pen and starts writing, then stops.) I should tell her myself. Or maybe the three of us could run away together?