Dramatic comedy for 3 people in three acts (18+)
Duration 2 hours, including one intermission.
An explanatory note for the director is attached at the end of the play.
ACTORS
Eleanor.
Kostya.
Violetta.
Action 1
Scene 1. Her Majesty – Eleanor.
ztm.
In the pitch darkness, Eleanor's throaty little urge breaks out of the silence of intriguing expectation.
Eleanor (throaty, restrained, incomprehensible sound). Hack.
Silence.
Darkness.
A small pause.
The strange sound is repeated.
Eleanor (throaty, restrained, incomprehensible sound). Heck.
Y… silence.
Darkness.
A small pause.
Eleanor (worried, no longer restrained, emotional). Oop! Oop! Opanki! O-pa-pulechki…
the light turns on smoothly.
The living room is illuminated, in the center of which sits sooooooo full Eleanor in her chair. She is desperately trying to get herself out of this chair and get up!
Eleanor (worried, no longer restrained, emotional). Hey! Opapulechki! Opapulenkiiii… Eeeeeee....
AND, YES!!! She still manages to do it!!! Eleanor gets up. With difficulty, not immediately straightening up, but stands up, presenting in all its glory and volumes.
Groaning and groaning, he walks slowly, heavily around the room.
Eleanor (exhaling heavily). Yes… where are my seventeen years. Was a reed (a small pause)… at four. Like an aspen tree! At seventeen, she was already a dubik, but still had proportions. Kostya picked up her own just then… (With nostalgia.) Eh, those were glorious times… Although she was a dubik, but a dubik with a spark, with a hitch … (Having grown sad and withstood a short pause.). And now it has become a baobab. Without a spark…, without a hitch… How else Kostya hasn't run away from me so far – I don't know. I would have run away from myself a long time ago.
He walks heavily to the mirror, looks at himself with a condemning, reproachful look.
Waving his hand at himself in the mirror, he goes to the forefront to communicate with the viewer.
Eleanor (to the viewer, sincerely). What have I not tried! Diets in general, all that there are have passed through me. Physical exertion, as much as possible – were. Proper nutrition, vegetarianism… I was even a vegan… but not for long. I was sitting on a raw food diet… I almost died, but I still didn't lose weight. Wraps, baths, different modes… Yes, all… Well, really… That's all there is – I've tried everything. But I'm only getting wider from all this… I don't know what to do.
Kostya enters. He's in high spirits. Hiding some kind of box behind his back.
Kostya (happily). Ale? I'm at home. Look what I brought. Ale… oop!
Pulls out a box of cakes from behind his back.
Eleanor (turning around, joyfully, seeing her husband). Kostya! (Ambiguously, after seeing a box of cakes.) Kooooostik, what are you doing to me, that's Herod. How is it possible with real people. You know how much I love sweets, but…
he points with his hands at himself, at his size.
Eleanor (sadly). So… so what? And how?
Kostya (positively). Elechka, don't worry. If you really want to, then a little bit is possible, and maybe even useful. And then… I love cakes myself, so what… I'm going to eat, and you're going to watch? Come on, as they say, a little…
Eleanor (condescendingly). The provocateur… But maybe… just a little… take a sip…
Kostya (delighted). Exclusively take a sip!
Kostya runs away, leaving a box of cakes on the table.
Intriguing music sounds.
Eleanor cautiously, slowly, hesitantly approaches the box, as if casually, as if even disinterestedly, casually turns her gaze to the box. Looks away. But her gaze is drawn back to the box.
Eleanor stops fighting with herself, "breaks off the chain", grabs this box, nervously opens it and greedily, with gusto, begins to eat cakes. One by one. Quickly, cleverly, professionally.
The music ends.
On the third cake, Kostya enters. He carries a teapot in one hand, two mugs in the other.
Kostya (looking forward, happily, not yet seeing his wife). Now we are doing this…
Eleanor comes into Kostya's field of vision, who freezes with the third nibbled cake brought to her mouth.
Kostya stops, swallows pitifully, approaches the box, lowers his hands with the kettle and mugs in frustration.
Eleanor carefully, delicately, carefully finishes the third cake, looks guiltily at Kostya.
Kostya (sadly lifting his gaze from the box to his wife). She took a sip, as I look…
Eleanor (guiltily). Uh-huh…
Kostya (sadly). Uh-huh…
Eleanor takes the last fourth cake out of the box, hands it to Kostya.
Kostya turns the box over, demonstrates that there is nothing left in it anymore. He looks at his wife, with a cake handed to him.
Kostya (sarcastically). Are you sure I should?
Eleanor (quickly, decisively) No, well, if you don't really want to, then so be it…
Eleanor pulls the last fourth cake to her, but Kostya quickly snatches it and puts it in her mouth. He stands chewing, looking at his wife with an imperturbable look.
Eleanor swallows her saliva, looks at her husband with hungry, offended eyes.
They exchange glances.
Kostya is chewing on a cake.
Kostya (triumphantly). That's it!
Eleanor steps aside, trying to let go of the situation and changing the subject. Grunting and groaning, he sits down on the sofa.
Eleanor (short of breath, hard, pausing to catch the air). Well… How are you doing… at work… Is everything okay?
Kostya (happily). Everything is wonderful! Two trucks were sent to St. Petersburg. An agreement was signed with the Finns. There are several more customers in Europe and…
Eleanor (interrupts, stopping her husband's story with a gesture of her hand). Understood-understood. In short, summarizing all this here …, we can state with full responsibility – you are handsome!
Kostya (happily, complacently). Without a doubt!
Eleanor is touched, looking at her husband. Quite exchange glances with mutual cunning.
Eleanor (playfully). Well… come here, handsome. Sit next to the fat aunt.
Eleanor pats the empty seat on the sofa next to her.
Kostya goes to his wife, sits down next to her, hugs her.
Kostya (smoothing the corners). Come on. How fat are you? Literally…, the most wonderful size. I've always appreciated your figure in you. To have something to take on, so to speak. And then this fashion… Look at you – look at what little girls are walking on the catwalks now. The legs are sticks, the handles are translucent. It's not that there's nothing to take on,