The front door was locked, and the thin wire from the bell was wrapped around the door in a tangle.
A hanger, a bed, shelves littered with junk, a nightstand with things, a table with a bunch of Newspapers, a book and a phone, a TV. Mess (in the corners of some piles of things, on the table a pile of barely fit on it dishes).
Twilight.
Yaroslav enters the room. He looks haggard.
He throws the heavy bag on the floor and takes off his jacket. He sits down on the bed and idly pulls off his shoes. One of them does not want to be removed. The shoelace is tied at the knot, not untied.
YAROSLAV (nervously): Well, where are the sticks? A knot or something?
Looks at the Shoe, tries to untie it. It doesn't work.
YAROSLAV (humbly): Exactly.
He gets out of bed, pulls off his jacket, trousers, and remains in his underpants, drunk t-shirt, socks, and one Shoe.
He goes into the kitchen, scratching his leg. He returns with a bag of milk, which he drinks straight from the throat, and takes the remote control from the TV. It tries to turn it on, but it doesn't work.
YAROSLAV (nervously): Well, where are the sticks? Are the batteries dead?
Puts a carton of milk, opens the lid of the remote, fiddles with the batteries there, tries to turn on the TV – it does not work.
YAROSLAV (humbly): Exactly.
Puts the remote control aside, goes to the front of the stage, with milk, drinks, scratches his belly, drops a bag of milk on the way. Fortunately, it is not complete, but something still spills over the stage.
Yaroslav looks at all this good with a certain amount of indifference and self-irony.
YAROSLAV: I have a Good day today. Here is recognized, feel – my day.
He goes to the kitchen and comes back with a rag. Wipes the spilled milk, picks up the milk bag, tries to finish what is left in it, and there is almost nothing left.
There is a loud knock on the door, which scares Yaroslav, and he spills the remaining drops on the t-shirt from the package.
YAROSLAV (nervously): Well, where are the sticks?
He shakes off his shirt.
Music is playing loudly (only the introduction of Pa' mi casa – Bebe, or something like that)
He goes and opens the door. Dimon bursts into the room.
DIMON: Healthy, Yaroslav batkovich.
YAROSLAV: hi, Dimon.
Greets the handle, the guest takes off his jacket on the go, takes off his shoes.
DIMON: Listen, old man, when will you fix the bell on the door? It's no business, no business, to beat on the door with your fingers, I've already broken all the cauldrons.
Shows Yaroslav the Kazanka river.
YAROSLAV: Yes, I'll fix it somehow. Once. What are you doing without warning? It's a bit of a mess…
DIMON: Yes, I had a fight with my wife. And you are alone, you can always find a dry friendly heart to shelter.
YAROSLAV: Well, Yes. What are the passions in the family?
