Anniversarian. A play for 2 people. Comedy

He slowly approaches the table, eats a few "grapes" without appetite, wistfully examines his bachelor apartment, looks sadly at the deserted table. He goes into the room with art supplies, returns with an easel. He puts a piece of paper there and starts drawing. He goes to the table several times, drinks wine, returns, finishes painting, then sits down at the table and falls asleep there.

Scene 2

A series of doorbells wakes Philemon up.

He's coming to open it.

Ivy enters.

Ivy. Hi.

Philemon. We've seen each other.

Ivy. Are you still alone?

Philemon. One.

Ivy. Can I come to you?

Philemon. Did you decide to ask permission this time?

Ivy. Is that okay?

Philemon. Come in. Do you want to eat?

Ivy. No, thanks.

Philemon. Would you like a drink? Wash up?

Ivy. You're kidding, aren't you?

Philemon. Yes.

Ivy. What for? You're not sharp-tongued, I like to cut it with a word. You're different.

Philemon. I don't know, you must have influenced me so much.

Ivy. M…

Philemon. May I ask?

Ivy. Go ahead.

Philemon. Who are you?

Ivy. Phew… Here, you know, sort of… You can't tell right away.

Philemon. Let's not do it all at once, in parts. Somehow tell me who you are. And then I broke my whole head, I can't understand anything, who Fate threw at my name day.

Ivy. Oh, cool, let's assume that I'm your gift of Fate and I'm not explaining anything!

Philemon. Ivy, put yourself in my shoes.

Ivy. No, whatever. It's tinny.

Philemon. That's what I'm talking about.

Ivy. Lan, let's sit down. I'll tell you what's what.

Philemon. Good girl, this is a conversation. Come in, sit down. Juice? Wine?

Ivy. Let me take care of you. It's your birthday after all. Juice? Wine?

Philemon. About how… Let's get some juice and something to chew on then.

Ivy takes care of Philemon, sits down next to him.

Philemon. Thanks And what about yourself?

Ivy. No, I don't want to.

Philemon eats, Ivy is silent. They look at each other. Time is passing.

Philemon. As you tell me interestingly, I was just listening.

Ivy. You've really learned something from me. Now I'm not going to call you Smartass, but Witty!

Philemon. I'll put up with that too.

Ivy. What a…

Philemon you are. Which one?

Ivy. Soft-bodied.

Philemon. You don't know me. I'm scary when I'm angry.

Ivy. Ha! Don't be ridiculous.

Philemon. Seriously.

Ivy. Interesting. And what will you do?

Philemon. I can draw an ugly portrait of my enemy.

Ivy. Oh, yes! It's just scary. I'm really scared right now! You wouldn't wish that on anyone. It is impossible to think of a worse fate!

Philemon. And you're being ironic for nothing, by the way. Everything has its own weight. Do you know what a Voodoo doll is?

Ivy. Are you saying that you're painting a portrait of your enemy and poking needles at him?

Philemon. No, it's not necessary, but the principle is the same. If I draw a man with a black eye or a cast on his leg, I wouldn't be surprised if this man gets slapped in the face or breaks somewhere in the foreseeable future. The information room, no matter how you turn it, is general. Space responds and binds all the available knots with its threads.

Ivy. You're not normal.

Philemon. I'm an artist.

Ivy. Well, that's what I'm saying.

Philemon. Oh, yeah.

Ivy turns her attention to the easel.

Ivy. What are you drawing there? The easel wasn't here when I left. What? Inspiration struck sharply?

Philemon. And… yes, I'm there… so. Something has found it.

Ivy. Can I see it?

Philemon. No.

Ivy. What do you mean, no?

Philemon. Literally, no!

Ivy. You're a tough guy. And what's so-and-so?

Philemon. That's all you can't do!

They sit, they are silent, they look at each other.

Ivy. And if I look anyway?

Philemon. I don't recommend it.

Ivy. What's going to happen? Will you draw me with a black eye?

Philemon. It can be easier to do everything, you're not far away, I can reach out if I want.

Ivy. You are not capable of hitting a girl, you can be seen through. A worthless, soft-bodied little bastard. Only on paper and is able to drive with brushes. You can't do anything else — you don't have the guts!

Philemon. Why are you insulting me all day today? Sometimes you blame your age, then you blame your softness and inability to do something great. Why are you doing this to me?

Ivy. What are you doing? What a Van Gogh! Is it a pity that someone will see your daub?

Philemon sprays the rest of the juice from his glass into Ivy's face.

Ivy jumps up.

Ivy. Oh, you old prick! I'm going to put your painting on your head now!

He runs to the donated painting and takes it.

Ivy. No, I liked this one, I'll take this one. I'm just painting you over there, along with the easel. Look for a helmet, it won't seem enough!

Ivy runs up to the easel, grabs it and notices the drawing on it. Freezes.

Philemon. What is it? What?

Philemon runs up to Ivy. He takes the easel from her and sets it aside.

Philemon. Where does it hurt? Stretch it? Knock? What? What's wrong with you?

Ivy looks at the drawing, at the one on the easel, then looks at Philemon. He stands at a loss.

Philemon. Well, yes…

Ivy kisses him. Philemon stands like an idol.