Короткие пьесы полностью

DOCTOR(with more interest.): I see…Show me, please, your pose.

Anna puts her hands behind her head. Doctor reacts.

ANNA: My inner voice ordered me to do it.

DOCTOR: I see… and what did your inner voice say when the neighbor rushed out of the room?

ANNA: Used foul language.

DOCTOR: What did it say?

ANNA: I can’t repeat.

DOCTOR: Don’t repeat all the words.

ANNA: It said: «Hey, you, ninny, so-and-so… Now the whole street will know…». And now I can’t go in the street in daylight.

DOCTOR: Your voice didn’t explain anything to you?

ANNA: Nothing. Now I can’t walk on my street.

DOCTOR: Wrong. You of course can go out in the street.

ANNA: But doctor, I think my neighbor looks at me through the window and laughs.

DOCTOR: He doesn’t laugh at you.

ANNA: He probably has told the neighbors about the incident.

DOCTOR: Why should he tell them? Nothing happened, did it?

ANNA: Doctor, that’s really the point.

DOCTOR: Don’t worry; he told the neighbors nothing, and won’t tell.

ANNA: Doctor, how do you know that he didn’t talk to the neighbors?

DOCTOR: I had similar cases in my practice. Besides, I’m a man myself and understand something about men…

ANNA: Doctor, what shall I do now?

DOCTOR: What’s your inner voice saying to you now?

ANNA: My inner… voice? Now? Cursing…

DOCTOR: Who?

ANNA: You.

DOCTOR: How?

ANNA: I feel embarrassed, I can’t repeat…

DOCTOR: Please, tell me. It’s important.

ANNA: Using the same words?

DOCTOR: Absolutely.

ANNA: It says that you’re a fucking doctor. You know damn well such problems. You put on airs.

Pause.

DOCTOR: I see, compulsive obsessive!.. I can prescribe a medicine for you.

ANNA: The gene therapy medicine?

DOCTOR: This to get rid of your company. Next time come and see me alone, without your inner voice.

The doctor starts writing the prescription. Anna comes to the doctor to watch him writing.

ANNA (very definitely): Doctor, don’t trouble… I’ll never take it.

DOCTOR: Why not?

ANNA: I don’t want to get rid of it… my inner voice…

DOCTOR: But because of it you are having your problems. It doesn’t let you go out into the street. And it also whispers in your ear all sorts of nonsense about your neighbor… and me…

ANNA: All right, I’ve lived without the neighbor, and I’ll live on.

DOCTOR: Here is your prescription.

ANNA: I don’t need it.

DOCTOR: I insist, take it, take it! Gene therapy is not right now…

Doctor holds out the prescription. Anna reluctantly takes it.

DOCTOR: Excellent, well done… I just tried to help you…

ANNA: (suddenly shouts with her inner voice.) Help? Me? Ha! You first help yourself, you listen to your voices, and then give medicines to others. Look at him sprawling! Imagines himself: I’m a doctor, I’m a man, I understand male problems! Remember where the nudist beaches are located! He is interested in this! But to listen to the patient isn’t interesting! We’ve seen such doctors. No, we’ll find another one. And this is what we’ll do to your prescription!

Anna tears the prescription into small peaces and throws them in the doctor’s face. She grabs her purse and leaves the office banging the door loudly. Doctor takes the telephone and dials a number.

DOCTOR. Hello – “Go Travel’?.Gladys? I’ve decided. Please, find a morning flight for me… I need a ticket next week… Where? Oh, of course, to Saint Martin…

THE END

BORIS (BORIA): A Russian. He has lived in Boston for 15 years. Age 75-80

RAECHKA: She came to Boston with Boris. Age 75-80

Boris and Raechka are sitting at a table and listening Russian song “My dearest”. A cane leans against the table. Flowers in their store wrapping, a box of candy and a coffee pot and cups are on the table.

BORIS (reading over soft CD music to a stone faced Raechka):

“Dear, dear my Sunshine of my view

Tell me when again

I will meet with you”…

RAECHKA: So?

BORIS: Memories come flashing back… Huddled against the cold, singing with friends…The cold Fall night… The firelight made your eyes sparkle. And so we met… and married on June 1971.

RAECHKA: Boris, you haven’t called me for over two years, and now you invite yourself here to read this old song… Why couldn’t we have talked by phone?

BORIS: It’s not phone “talk”.

RAECHKA: Why, Boris?