A play for 10 people. Drama. Comedy. Understand a man

Oleg remembers where he is and what he is, assesses the situation adequately, extends his hand to Ira and introduces himself in response.

Oleg (confused, with a lot of questions on his face). Oleg!

Ira (joyfully, sincerely, positively, with pressure). Oleg? Very pleasant. Short and concise. (With irony, and a kind cunning, looking at Demyan) Not like Demyan! You'll break your tongue while you say it. I'm not really strong in Old Slavonic, of course, someone may like it. But here's the name Oleg, I like it much more than Demyan, honestly!

Demyan (to Ira, deliberately sternly). So! Conversations in the stand!

Ira (playfully, to Demyan). Oh, come on, Comrade Foreman! It's all empty.

Ira passes to the table in a masterly manner, lays out a bag of lard and a loaf of bread on it.

Ira (positively). Look at the lard I brought you! Home-salted, yesterday only the godfather from the village sent.

Ira inhales the aromas, savors.

Ira (positively, complacently). And the smell, what, eh?

Ira turns to Oleg, takes a loaf of bread in her hand again, shows it to Oleg, luring and enticing.

Ira (positively, complacently, to Oleg). Bread!

Oleg (to Demyan, looking at him, through Ira). Passed with the guts, right?

Demyan looks at Ira with some discomfort, letting her understand with gestures so that she does not set him up. Ira takes it all jokingly, dismisses Demyan and joyfully, solemnly takes out a bottle of vodka from the same package. Elevates it above the head and shows it to men.

Ira (positively, complacently, solemnly). Everything will grind, everything will grind. Life goes on. So what? For a little, for acquaintance?

Oleg (seriously, not too disposed to everything that is happening). I won't drink. Sorry. The beginning of the working week, and in general I'm not really…

Ira (confidently). Neither will we. What's there to drink? So, let's take a sip just a little bit, purely symbolically. For appetite! And?

Ira looks at the men, smiles. He looks straight at Demyan, removing the grin from his face.

Ira (to Demyan, deliberately strict). Well, what are you standing for? Get the stacks, the knife, the tablet. Now we will arrange everything here!

Demyan (to a friend, as if asking permission). Olegych? What about salsa? It would be possible, don't you think? Am I going to the kitchen? Or are you yourself? Or how?

Oleg is silent, trying to understand what is happening in his apartment. But with all this, very willingly looks at the fat.

Ira (takes the initiative). Oh, everything is clear. I'll figure it out myself. Is the kitchen there? (Ira points towards the kitchen, asking Oleg).