Валерий Жиглов – Puppet-People in the Theater of the Absurd. Divine Tragicomedy (страница 2)

Work to pay,

Pay the mortgage,

And don't dare dream!

*Petrushka whispers quietly to Margarita:*

– You know, I'm starting to think piracy isn't so bad. At least pirates don't have mortgages.

*Margarita smiles, but sadness flickers in her eyes.*

Margarita:

– The main thing is not to forget that even pirates had a crew. And we – only this endless classroom.

*The Teacher raises his hand, as if putting an end to the conversation.*

Teacher:

– Remember, children, dreams are a luxury that only those who have already paid off their mortgage can afford. For now – repeat: "Life is work. Work is life. Mortgage is happiness."

*The curtain slowly closes to the sound of creaking desks and Petrushka's quiet chuckle, as he tries not to cry.*

Scene 3: First Doubt and the Appearance of the Shadow

*The light on stage gradually dims, as if someone is turning off a lamp in an abandoned house. The air grows heavier, and suddenly the Shadow emerges from behind the curtains – a mysterious, elongated silhouette, resembling a mix of a ghost and a botched silhouette from a children's shadow theater. It moves slowly across the stage, as if floating, and whispers, but its voice echoes through the hall with a note of sarcasm and weariness, like an old philosopher who's stared at the stars for too long.*

Shadow (in a whisper, but with irony, as if winking):

– What if all this is just a game? What if our lives are just scripts written by someone in another world? What if we're puppets in the Master's hands? Oh, sorry if I'm spoiling it, but… surprise! You're all marionettes in a play called "Life That No One Ordered."

*Petrushka, standing in the center of the stage, looks at the Shadow with anxiety – his wooden eyes widen like a child's seeing a monster under the bed. But then his gaze becomes defiant, as if he's finally decided to rebel.*

Petrushka (with a mixed voice – fear and defiance, with a slight creak):

– If I'm a puppet, does that mean I can't choose my own fate? That I'm just a toy in someone else's hands? Hey, Shadow, are you serious? I was just born, and I already feel like that kitten forgotten in a box labeled "Free."

Shadow (with a sarcastic chuckle, its silhouette slightly bending, as if shrugging):

– Maybe. Or maybe you're just afraid to tear the strings. You know, like in that joke: "Why doesn't the puppet leave? Because the strings hold it, and fear holds the soul." But hey, if you tear them – you'll get freedom. Or just fall and break. Choose yourself, wooden friend.

*Margarita, who has been standing aside until now, suddenly intervenes – her laughter echoes across the stage, bright and infectious, but with a hint of bitterness.*

Margarita (laughs, but her voice carries defiance and slight sadness):

– Let him be afraid! I'd rather dance until the strings snap! Hey, Shadow, if it's all a game, I want to be the main character! Let the strings snap like confetti at a party! And if I break – oh well, at least I'll die with music!

*Petrushka looks at her in surprise, then joins the laughter, but his creaky smile looks slightly frightened.*

Petrushka (with sarcasm, trying to hide fear):

– Dance? What if the strings are actually chains? Or worse, the cable from the TV that only shows mortgage ads?

*The music grows louder – an absurd mix of a circus march and a funeral dirge, as if someone mixed up the reels in an old movie theater. The Choir of Puppets, who have been hiding behind the curtains, rushes onto the stage in chaotic order. They start singing an absurd song about "life-work-mortgage," but with obvious sarcasm: some sing loudly and off-key, others whisper, and a few just giggle.*

Choir of Puppets (in song, with sarcasm and absurdity):

– Life is work,

Work is debt,

Mortgage is happiness,

And happiness is… debt!

(they repeat, stumbling and adding improvisations like "Oops, string snapped!" or "Who's the Master? He's in debt again?")

*Despite their doubts, Petrushka and Margarita start to dance – awkwardly, with comical falls and creaks. Petrushka tries to "tear the strings," jerking, but only gets more tangled. Margarita spins like a star, but stumbles and laughs. The Shadow watches, its silhouette slowly fading into the darkness, leaving behind an echo of laughter and a whisper: "The game continues… until the strings snap."*

*The curtain closes amid the growing chaos of music and laughter, but a slight sadness hangs in the air – as if the laughter masks the fear of the unknown.*

Key Moment: Petrushka’s Realization

*Scene: rehearsal space of the theater of the absurd. Petrushka and other puppets stand in a row, preparing for the next "scene of life." Scripts are scattered on the floor – stacks of papers with the same phrases and directions: "Get up," "Work," "Pay the mortgage," "Smile," "Die."*

*Petrushka picks up one of the scripts and begins reading aloud, but the words sound strangely familiar – as if he has heard them a thousand times before.*

Petrushka (with light irony and confusion):

– "Get up. Work. Pay the mortgage. Smile. Die." Yeah, sure, like I haven’t heard that since childhood, when I was learning to be obedient, and at work, when I pretended to work. It’s like I’m an actor in an eternal play, where all roles are already assigned, and improvisation is a crime.

*He tries to take a step aside, but invisible straps pull the strings, bringing him back.*

Petrushka (sarcastically):

– Oh, freedom of choice! What a beautiful illusion! Only the strings won’t let you leave the first scene.

*At that moment, other puppets start fooling around like kids on recess: some try to dance, some make funny faces, some fall – but it all repeats again and again, like a looped recording.*

*One puppet tries to hide behind the curtain, but the strings yank it back onto the stage.*

Choir of Puppets (smiling, but tired):

– Get up again. Work again. Pay again. Smile again. Die again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

*Petrushka watches this scene and suddenly realizes:*

Petrushka (quietly, almost whispering, with bitterness and a slight smile):

– Life… begins with the illusion of freedom – when you first open your eyes and think the whole world is at your feet. But very quickly it turns into routine – an endless repetition of someone else’s scripts, where you’re just a puppet playing a role written by someone else.

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