Positive dynamic music is playing.
Tolik is wearing a kitchen apron around the apartment. He is cheerful, cheerful, charged. Kitchen apron in flour. In the hands of Tolik, then a rolling pin, then a baking sheet, then a saucepan with flour, then bags with baking powder and cocoa.
He's running around with all this, fussing, running in and out of the room from different sides of the stage.
The music stops.
And so, finally, he solemnly and decorously carries a homemade cake on a platter. Puts it on the table. Admires, is touched, admires.
Tolik (positively). Here … after all, don't say anything, but a homemade cake, it will never compare with a store-bought one, and even if it is thawed and frozen ten times there. With all sorts of harmful additives there, to keep the form, the term stood. Not… not that. But this is another matter. Here…
He sniffs the cake, savors the sense of smell and facial expressions, admires himself.
Tolik (reproachfully to himself). Ah… God knows, I wanted to wait for my darling, but no… It's beyond my strength.
Grabs the cake, takes it to the kitchen.
Tolik (leaving). What's the difference. It's all the same to cut… and besides, I won't eat all of it. (Suggesting to himself) Less self-flagellation! Despondency and confusion are not a person's best friend.
From the kitchen, you can hear savoring, champing, drinking. In a word, it is obvious that Tolik is already eating cake there.
The doorbell rings.
Tolik returns well-fed, satisfied, with a mug in his hand. There is a satisfied smile of a March cat on his face, stroking his tummy contentedly.
He opens the door. Enter the nervous Dasha. She has bags in her hands.
Dasha (indignantly). Tolik, holy shit, what's taking so long? My hands are already stretched to the heels.
Dasha puts the bags down, sighs with relief.
Dasha (indignantly). I didn't want to put the bags on the floor on the landing, collect different infections. My hands are busy, I can't get the keys. What took you so long? (Suspicious)
Tolik (cheekily, in a satisfied voice, sipping tea from a mug and scratching his belly). And you know…, Anechka and I had a perfectly good time in the kitchen, (with lust, savoring, slightly closing our eyes from pleasure) How am I her…
Tolik does not have time to finish, because he gets a "bream". Sonorous and capacious. Dasha belligerently rushes to the kitchen after slapping her husband in the face.
Dasha (boldly, running away to the kitchen). Where is this well? Now I'm her…
Tolik rubs his cheek after the blow, but still smiles.
Noise is heard from the kitchen. Stools are clearly falling. Shelves rattle, a couple of plates and pots fall.
Dasha (angrily shouts from the kitchen). Where did you go? Threw it out the window? Anka! Come out, you sneaky coward! Let's talk…
Dasha comes out out of breath, blows her hair off her face, puts her hands on her hips. She nods questioningly to her husband.
Dasha (defiantly, belligerently). Well?
Tolik (playing on nerves). What?
Dasha (defiantly, belligerently). Where have you gone, admit it! I 'll find it anyway…
Tolik (playing on his nerves). Whom?
Dasha (as loudly as possible, audaciously, on nerves).
Dasha starts rushing around the stage, looking for her Anechka!!! Looks around, looks into all corners, does not find, rushes. Comes to the forefront.
Dasha (nervously, rapaciously looking around the auditorium). I know you're here, I feel it. Only the wife is out of the door, so, and here already there are all sorts…
Dasha glares at our decoy girl. She sits, behaves adequately, like other viewers.
Dasha (to the decoy girl). Aah… found it, I think. Here she is, sitting, an infection. Lurking. I thought I wouldn't find it! Now I'm going to take your hair off…
Dasha jumps off (climbs, gets off, runs around, depending on the features of the scene) from the stage and throws herself at our decoy girl, while shouting natural literary curses to the best of her ability.
!!!
Here it is important to quickly grab our decoy girl by the breasts or by the hair or at least for something and throw her on the stage until socially active viewers come to their senses and stand up for (as it seems to them) an ordinary ordinary viewer.
!!
Dasha (to the decoy girl, grabbing her by the hair). She's hiding here, sitting. Now I'm going to explain to you, such a parasite, how to visit other people's husbands (you can add something from yourself, according to the place and situation, but not too abusive-vulgar).
A decoy girl (screams, behaves naturally for the viewer, given the situation). Aaaaa.... Woman, are you out of your mind! Let me go immediately, because I can even give back!
There is a struggle of the ladies already on stage, it is better to roll away from the proscenium, so it is safer in terms of the possible reaction of the audience trying to understand something and take action. Tolik peacefully watches all this, with a sneaky smile and interest, sipping tea.
Dasha (to the decoy girl, getting fiercer by the second). What? What did you say there? Change?
Dasha lets go of our decoy girl, they disperse for a few seconds – they run away, get better, look at each other with hatred.
Dasha (to the decoy girl, hitting herself in the chest). Well, come on, pregnant. Show what you're capable of, be brave. Well? What? Scared? And? And? Well, well!
The ladies are grappling with squeals and squeaks. They fall on the stage, roll on the floor.
Tolik, meanwhile, finishes his tea, puts the mug on the table, watching everything that is happening without much interest. But now he gets tired of it.
Tolik (with understanding, surrendering his position with deliberate guilt). Okay, okay, calm down, leave the man alone … I'll show you Anya, so be it.
The ladies let go of each other, push themselves apart.
Tolik deliberately walks away guiltily towards the kitchen. Our decoy girl hurriedly goes backstage, finally snorting Dasha.
The decoy girl (nervously, indignantly, addressing Dasha). Hysterical!
