Scene 1. The seller of striped sticks.
It sounds positive-an incendiary musical composition.
The light flickers.
It turns out to be a stupefyingly happy traffic cop. He's wearing headphones and with his eyes closed with pleasure. It turns out, dancing, traditionally, as usual, twisting his striped wand on a string. He himself is in full dress (a traffic police inspector's suit, a cap, everything is as it should be).
He diverges in the dance so that his clumsy but diligent movements cause a blissful smile from everyone who can only contemplate it.
The traffic cop turns his back (to the viewer), performs quite busy pritops – dancing. At this point, the flickering of the light stops, and then the music stops.
But our traffic cop is still burning out.
The noise of the city begins to sound, the roar of cars passing by.
The crowd begins its march, which dynamically appears from different ends of the backstage.
Someone is just walking by, someone is in a hurry (for example, with a child, if there is an opportunity to attract children to episodic roles), someone is on the arm with a loved one (beloved). And, of course, the drivers passing by, most of them.
*For drivers, a footnote for the director below explains how they can be shown on stage.
Everyone at a certain moment of their procession or passage pays attention to a strange traffic cop. Someone smiles, someone twists his finger at his temple, someone shakes his head reproachfully, and someone pokes his finger.
The extras disperse – they disperse.
The noise of the city and the roar of passing cars stops.
The traffic cop turns to face the viewer, stops dancing, bringing his emotional dance to a certain logically final feint.
He exhales loudly, takes off his headphones, takes off his cap, opens his eyes to a full view, looks into the hall, happy and happiest.
Xenophon (he's a traffic cop) (positively, cheerfully). Oh, it was a nice day yesterday! Four turns in the wrong place, three double solid intersections, and even a couple of drunk drivers at the wheel, one of whom drove on the oncoming lane. (As joyfully and emotionally as possible, patting the thick pocket from which the bills sticking out are visible.) Yes, I… Heh…, sometimes I don't earn as much in a quarter as yesterday the Lord sent down earthly gifts on my law-abiding God-fearing head.
As a matter of course, as if between business and nothing, Xenophon pulls out a five-thousand-dollar bill (not necessarily a real one) from a bundle of money, blows his nose loudly into it and throws it aside.
He crosses himself, then squeezes his palms together, as if he is grinding and sends an air kiss somewhere up.
Xenophon (positively, cheerfully). No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't spend everything yesterday. (Smiles with all 32 teeth, takes a short pause, takes a mineral water from his pocket, opens it). And in the pubs I fucked up, and I looked into the underground casino, I slobbered money to the homeless at the church. (Happily and emotionally, patting his thick pocket.) And still the tub is still full!
Xenophon literally washes down the last word with mineral water, because there is a place for drying.
Chokes, spills. Coughs …
coughs, removes the mineral water.
Xenophon (changes the subject, seriously and sternly). Ah.., okay. What was, was. Well, today is a new day! New opportunities, new violators, new (he shows money with his fingers – a gesture in which he rubs three fingers) receipts!
Softly, a moderate musical theme sounds in the background.
Xenophon puts a cap on his head, a stern look, a sight on the road… everything… He's already all on duty, all on duty.
Smoothly, the crowd of drivers does not appear very tightly and quickly disappear.
The sound of passing cars. Softly.
Xenophon (as if between cases, in his own way, looking at the road, watching the passing cars with drivers from the crowd). I'm actually a bit of an unusual traffic cop. I'm… kind of a unique traffic cop. And my uniqueness lies in the fact that I stop only women!
Yes!
Here is such a seemingly strange feature I have… recently. Literally from today! (He pauses.)
I don't like men! I hate to put up with it. (Distracts from the drivers, addresses the viewer) As soon as you stop a man, there's a lot of awkward whining, threats, empty-mouthed and boring. There are not so many wrappers (pats his pocket) you have, how many nerves you spend. Although… what to hide, yesterday was an exceptional day. In a word, the men shook my nerves – be healthy. And now, to restore the psyche, from today I switch exclusively to women. With women, it is more pleasant to the eye, and the bonuses are tastier. Women are so cute… especially when they mess up. And they mess up, what to hide …, often!
Stops, smiles guiltily, rivermen clap… And from that moment on, I am the king and God of the situation. The ladies call their pussies, cats, zainki, and they, in turn, solve my financial issue. But this is not always the case. More often, everything is solved immediately on the spot promptly, without any pusiks there. Not a job, but a real pleasure! Therefore, male drivers, in my reality, from now on, we can say, do not exist!
