Real and Phantom Pains: An Anthology of New Russian Drama. John Freedman

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СКАЧАТЬ They won’t weigh it will they?

      MAN: The powder?

      WOMAN: Yes.

      MAN: I don’t know.

      WOMAN: They’ve never done it before.

      MAN: Never.

      WOMAN: But they might.

      MAN: Sure.

      WOMAN: Are we ok?

      MAN: No worries. I checked it.

      WOMAN: And what you sprinkled in plus the last –

      MAN: Two teaspoons. Two teaspoons of that baby shit stuff.

      WOMAN: Is that enough? Should we do one more just in case?

      MAN: What if they weigh it and it’s heavy?

      WOMAN: It could be heavy?

      MAN: Well, I don’t know. They’re probably told how much it weighs.

      WOMAN: We got a half-kilo, right?

      MAN: Yes.

      WOMAN: And if there’s a half-kilo and five grams, then they’ll –

      MAN: Fuck if I know! If there’s less than a half-kilo, they’ll definitely –

      WOMAN: Ok. Ok. Finish your story.

      MAN: Right. Shit. Yeah. So, we’re watching Natural Born Killers and a storm kicks up. I was almost out, just listening, dozing. Tommy Lee Jones, y’know Scagnetti, is giving them a tour of the prison. As they walk, Scagnetti tells them how his mother was killed by a maniac with a rifle... And then... Something sputters... It goes dark... I open my eyes and this white ball is hanging over the TV. About the size of a tennis ball. Far as I could tell, it didn’t come from inside the TV...

      WOMAN: Did it burn a hole in the TV?

      MAN: No, but there were... There were a few holes melted. The ball went from hanging over the TV to floating. Floating all over the room. It might’ve been spinning. I mean, what the hell do I know. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, it was bright—so bright... It shot around, a question mark in the air, like this... shooting from the TV to right in front of us: Mikhail and me... We froze. Stopped breathing. It flies. Then stops, hovers, and then, like a snake...HA! It darts over to Dimon –

      WOMAN: Dimon who?

      MAN: Dimon was ripped. to. the. tits!

      WOMAN: Uh-huh.

      MAN (Demonstrating): It hopped over to him. Like that. Right in front of his nose, it stops. And right then, right then, Dimon inhales. (Imitates.) And it’s over.

      WOMAN: He died?

      MAN: What did I say?

      WOMAN: Oh. Yeah.

      MAN: He died.

      WOMAN: Wow. What a way to go.

      MAN: Absolutely.

      WOMAN: You’re sure everything is fine?

      MAN: Absolutely.

      WOMAN: Absolutely?

      MAN: Absolutely, everything is fine.

      WOMAN: Would you stop saying absolutely?

      MAN: I’m nervous.

      WOMAN: Me too. Turn on the TV.

      MAN: All right.

      (MAN and WOMAN watch TV.)

      WOMAN: If they don’t weigh it, we’re fine.

      MAN: If they weigh – I shoot.

      WOMAN: If they weigh – You shoot.

      MAN: Absolutely.

      (Doorbell. MAN opens the door. WOMAN stands up, and takes the blue folder from a shelf, removes the small revolver, and returns the folder. She sits on the sofa, covers the revolver with the curtains, and returns to sewing. MAN enters with ABU, drug kingpin, and JOHN, his second. JOHN carries a briefcase. They go to the kitchen)

      ABU: Hello.

      WOMAN: Good afternoon.

      JOHN: Hi, sweetheart.

      WOMAN: Hey.

      (In the kitchen, the refrigerator opens and closes. MAN, ABU and JOHN enter the living room.

      At the table, JOHN opens the briefcase and removes a set of scales.

      MAN removes the blue folder. Opens it. No revolver.

      ABU sees MAN looking into the blue folder and shoots MAN.

      WOMAN shoots at ABU.

      ABU falls and shoots at MAN.

      WOMAN shoots at ABU. ABU’s gun flies.

      JOHN searches for ABU’s gun on the floor.

      WOMAN shoots JOHN.

      JOHN finds the gun.

      WOMAN shoots at JOHN. Click. A misfire.

      WOMAN and JOHN shoot each other.

      Time passes.

      Evening comes.

      Doorbell rings. Doorbell rings again. Again.

      The door opens and BOY enters the apartment. He stands at the door for a moment. BOY sneaks into the kitchen and returns with a knife.

      BOY steps around the bodies. He picks up the phone off the coffee table with both hands. He finds a clean place to stand. BOY dials 911 and closes his eyes tight.)

      BOY: Hello. My parents have been killed. I came home to the apartment. They’re on the floor, shot. And two other guys, too. It’s true. I am not kidding.

      (BOY cries.)

      Come. Please. Pleeeaaasseee coooommme. Twenty-two. Twenty-two Victory Street. Apartment eight... eighteen.

      (Dark. Night.)

      3

      The door of the apartment opens. BOY and GRANDMOTHER enter, leaving the door open. The apartment is empty. A rolled up carpet with bloodstains lies under the window. GRANDMOTHER covers a large dark stain on the back of the sofa with her raincoat.

      BOY opens the lower section of СКАЧАТЬ