Real and Phantom Pains: An Anthology of New Russian Drama. John Freedman
BOY 2 – eleven years old
MAN – father of Boy
WOMAN – mother of Boy
ABU – big time drug wholesaler, black
JOHN – big time drug wholesaler, black
GRANDMOTHER – of Boy
GIRL – eleven years old
BLACK GUY
COP
SETTING:
Suburb of a provincial city in Russia.
A tough, cinder block and concrete neighborhood.
NOTE: A single punctuation mark as a line of dialogue represents a reaction.
1
Backyard of a four-story brick apartment building. The grass is thigh-high and a rusted-out car body rests nearby, all useful parts removed long ago. A bus stop. BOY and BOY 2 enter.
BOY: Look, they meant to do it that way, so that nobody catches on.
BOY 2: So... why can we understand them?
BOY: Because the trolls obey us and only us.
BOY 2: All of ’em?
BOY: All of ’em. Cause we don’t piss ’em off.
BOY 2: And other people do piss them off?
BOY: They piss them off a lot, and they told the fuckers that, too.
BOY 2: So... where do we get the dirt?
BOY: From underneath a dead body. That’s the best.
BOY 2: Oh.
BOY: Yeah.
BOY 2: But what about other dirt, won’t ‘not-under-a-dead-body-dirt’ work?
BOY: Not for this.
BOY 2: Shit.
BOY: Yeah.
(Pause.)
BOY 2: Well. Should we hit the cemetery?
BOY: It’s Sunday!
BOY 2: What, you think they get days off there? What if somebody dies on Christmas?
BOY: They don’t bury them the same day.
BOY 2 (Remembering): That’s right. It takes three days. (Beat.) And what if somebody kicks the bucket on a Sunday?
BOY: Good point.
BOY 2: You got the bus pass?
BOY: My folks didn’t buy it yet.
BOY 2: I’ve got my monthly. So we need six rubles.
BOY: At least. Ten’s better.
BOY 2: Go fuck yourself on a local for ten. If we take an express it’s twenty.
BOY: Well, we ain’t taking the express. We need four rubles.
BOY 2: Why?
BOY: We need cigarettes, too. Four.
BOY 2: ?
BOY: Four is the Queen’s favorite number. If we buy ’em as singles, four is exactly what we get in change too, see? What are you looking at fuck-nuts? We can both get a ride and buy cigarettes.
BOY 2 (Pause, an idea): We could bum cigarettes.
BOY: Nice. Bumming’s free. I’ll go first.
BOY 2: Right here? Are you nuckin’ futs?
BOY: What the hell?
(Acts out the following.)
We go up to the guy and I’m kinda like, “gimme a cigarette.” And he forks over a butt, the bus comes, the doors open, we jump on and – BOOM! – we look like bad-asses, waving and smoking as the bus drives away. But we never have to light the smokes!
BOY 2: Shut the fuck up. How much coin you got?
BOY: Three. One big and two small.
BOY 2: Well, I got five. You can owe me.
BOY: My mom’ll pony up tomorrow. No shit. She gives me five rubles every day.
BOY 2: What about today?
BOY: Today? Today I pissed her off.
BOY 2: Let’s shove off. At three the old bitch comes looking for me.
2
The apartment where BOY lives. A large room with a TV in the corner. A couch on one wall, two beds on other walls. A floor lamp next to the coffee table. Two armchairs bookend a table. Bookshelves. A door leads to the bathroom. An entrance to the kitchen. A sliding door opens onto a tiny balcony.
A MAN sits in one armchair doing a crossword. WOMAN sits on the couch sewing curtain rings on the curtains.
MAN: Short-necked bittern.
WOMAN: How many letters?
MAN: Nine.
WOMAN: We know any other letters?
MAN: If I guessed pilgrim right, then the first one is “p”.
WOMAN: Pond heron.
(MAN writes the word in.)
MAN: Who is the Grand Prince of Kiev? Last letter is “r”.
WOMAN: How many?
MAN: Eight.
WOMAN: Vladimir.
MAN: Fuck me! I knew that! (He writes it in.) You know, they all have names, but some have names you’d expect them to have –
WOMAN: What do you mean?
MAN: Vladimir.
WOMAN (Understanding): Aaaaahhhh.
MAN: Igor –
WOMAN: Well, yes –
MAN: Boris –
WOMAN: What about Mikhail?
MAN: Archangel Mikhail hauled Satan out of the Heavens.
WOMAN: Well, he did do that to the communists –
MAN: Exactly.
WOMAN: Well, yeah.
(Pause.
WOMAN switches on the TV.)
MAN: I know a guy got killed like that. Just sittin’ at home watchin’ TV.
WOMAN: Was it radiation? I saw a show about it. They said that during Brezhnev’s years they were working on a way to shoot radiation from the television. Probably bullshit. Assholes still wanna take Brezhnev down a notch.
MAN: What are you talking about?! Radiation? It was eight years ago and we went to these chicks’ country house. For a birthday party. We’re all big sports fans and there was this big game that night. And later that night, on some other channel: Natural Born Killers. Me and a buddy stayed up for the movie. We’d seen it before –
WOMAN: Get to the point, will you? (Beat.) What are you smoking? Are you high?
MAN: This is a great story! I mean, we took the TV out there just for – Shit who was playing?
WOMAN: You think we could just pinch a little?
MAN: Just for us?
WOMAN: Yeah.
MAN: Now?
WOMAN: It’ll be gone in thirty. They’re on their way.
(MAN