Lana Ra
Ukraine, city of Kyiv
+38 067 9672787
Translator Marta Gosovska
At a Bad Time
Play
Characters:
Mykola Bordyurnyi – 48 years. Insecure about his abilities. Architect.
Angel – young, cocky, smart dresser, idler. Wears fashionable clothes – jeans, T-shirt, jacket.
MYKOLA'S APARTMENT
Noise coming from the bathroom. Somebody is taking a shower.
Room in early dawn light. Soft morning light coming from big windows. There are architectural models, models of buildings, business centres and parts of streets on the tables, stools, floor, and bookshelves. Some models are broken, hanging sloppily from the shelves, lying on the floor.
There are bookcases along the walls. On top of bookcases, there are rolls of paper – blank and with drawings. There are many lamps. Except for bookcases, there are a mirror, sofa, drawing board and a desk in the room. The desk is a mess – scattered papers, pencils and rulers.
A graphic portrait of Antonio Gaudí is hanging on one of the walls. Below the portrait, there is a stool. On top of the stool, there is a building model. The building is weirdly shaped, bright and beautiful with amazing roofs.
A male silhouette (Angel) appears in one of the corners of stage. He stands and watches.
The noises of shower are dying down.
A slouched Mykola enters the room in robe and towel around his head. He does not notice the Angel. Mykola walks into semi-dark. He changes into jeans and T-shirt and puts a jacket on. He towels off his head carefully. He stands in front of the mirror and combs his hair. He spends some time on his hairdo.
Then leaves the room. He comes back with a skein of clothes rope and throws it in the middle of the room. He then walks to the stool. Stops, looks at the model as if through it, coldly swipes it off as if a mirage. He grabs the stool at its upper edge and drags it along the floor to the rope.
Mykola places the stool, gets on top of it, then looks down (he forgot the rope), steps down and takes the rope. The silhouette (Angel) nods impatiently. Mykola remembers something, throws the rope, steps down from the stool, goes to the bookshelf and touches the books looking for a specific one. He takes it out, turns over and a picture of a woman falls out. He carefully picks it up and blows away the dust. With shaking hands he struggles to put the closed book back on the shelf. He puts the book straight onto the shelf, out of row. With his hands shaking, he stares into the picture. Closes his eyes. He hides the picture into the pocket of his jacket. He again takes the book, turns over the pages and takes out a dry flower. He holds it carefully. Then walks back to the stool, remembers something and goes back to the other wall taking Gaudí 's portrait down. He presses it against his chest and in the same careful manner carries the flower.
He sits down on the stool and smells the flower. He cries inaudibly. He takes out the picture of a woman, touches her hair with his fingers, puts the flower on the picture and hides it inside his pocket. He presses the portrait and takes the rope. First the portrait, then the rope almost escape his tremblinghands.
He gets onto the stool, stands on tiptoes and throws the rope around the chandelier. He tries to get the rope around several times. The silhouette (Angel) winces impatiently. Mykola looks at the rope, ties it, the loop is in level with his belt. He sizes the loop and understands that he tied it in the wrong way. He then unties the knot and looks at the ends of the rope. He tidies his hair.
ANGEL When is this gonna end?!
Mykola looks up at the silhouette. Confused, he does not know how to react. He takes a good look.
ANGEL Don't get distracted. Hang yourself. Please.
MYKOLA Hang yourself...
ANGEL Why? Of course, hang yourself. Or do you have other plans for this rope?
MYKOLA (sad smile) plans… yes… plans…
The Angel goes round impatiently. Mykola fumbles the rope. The Angel takes a pocket watch out of his breast pocket, looks at it and closes the lid impatiently.
ANGEL The clock is ticking. Could you speed up, please.
MYKOLA (as if awoken) Who are You and why do You need this?
ANGEL It doesn't matter who I am, what's important is that you get finish and free me from your company.
MYKOLA But You yourself intruded into my house, my life and (looks at the rope) death. Doesn't matter...
ANGEL Anything you say, anything you say. Come on, hang yourself and let's go our separate ways.
MYKOLA Go our separate ways?
ANGEL Well, yes.
MYKOLA (confused) I was hoping I wouldn't have to go anywhere after that.
ANGEL What do you know. As far as I remember, none of your hopes and assumptions came true.
MYKOLA Who are You?
ANGEL (tired) I suggest that you stop calling me "You". If I tell you, will you finally hang yourself?
Mykola shrugs.
ANGEL Oh heavens! That's what you do your whole life – simply shrug. You are so predictable. It's so boring, I can't even tell you. I'm an Angel. Yes, I'm your Angel. Why the heck, I don't know. But that's how it was and I became your Angel. And now you are forty-eight. Just imagine – a whole forty-eight years. I live in this sticky mess of your indecisiveness. I'm not arguing, forty-eight is a short while but with you it's a gluey eternity.
MYKOLA Angel? Mine? (sighs) I get it.
ANGEL Nope, you really don't. Here you are holding the rope. Five years into this, I already wanted to hang myself and escape the hard labour fate of accompanying you. But I'm an Angel, and with us such tricks don't work. You mortals (air quotes) can hang yourself, jump off the roof, cut veins. By they way, maybe you'd jump off a high riser? It takes less effort and you don't need any props for that. Swoosh, aaaaaa, smack. And I'm free.
MYKOLA You? What about me?
ANGEL And you, of course.
MYKOLA And what will happen to me then?
ANGEL Do you think it's important? Important that you will delete yourself from these Mexican soap opera scenes. How do you do that: hit "delete" and immediately clear the recycle bin forever.
MYKOLA Forever?
ANGEL Don't tell me you are going to miss this dull slow-moving life... It's hard to imagine a worse waste of time.
MYKOLA And then what...what..will happen to me then...They say suiciders...
ANGEL (snorts) They say...Who cares what they say. They will fly up to you and take you by your white arms. First adaption, then rehabilitation and conclusion at the end. And again the same cycle.
MYKOLA Again life?
ANGEL In your case, you should use the word "unfortunately" – yes.
MYKOLA Why..in mine..."unfortunately"?
ANGEL As for me, you are incapable of life. Dead man. Dead man absorbing oxygen, co-creator of the greenhouse effect who sucks on resources of the planet and uses incredibly precious time, the time of creation. I couldn't have imagined a worse waste of time.
MYKOLA Then why did you become my Angel? I thought Angels were to support and save.
ANGEL You see, with you... (hesitating) there was a kind of mishap. I was actually not supposed to be your Angel.
MYKOLA That's curious. How is that?
ANGEL The same as with paternity. Let's say a lady loves a male, or how you call them, man, wants to create a small life with him that will get a soul, but then she gets carried away.. and whoops – she is knocked up by another guy. And a life shift happens. A soul that was supposed to get life does not appear and somebody comes into this world out of turn.
MYKOLA I never knew my father?...
ANGEL Oh, you are so difficult...It's an example! An example of unexpectedness. Everything is fine with your family. Mother, father, normal family. You are a wanted child. Your Angel was supposed to be free by the time you were born. And I'm stressing – with quite a long list of achievements. (looking around the room) You do have the makings of a great architect. But there was one "but".
MYKOLA Did he change his mind?
ANGEL No. The thing is that besides Angels with achievement lists, there are Angels that have nothing to do. I mean we have what to do, we love freedom. Enjoying life. Life, if we look at it closely, even that of an Angel, is absolutely different. If you ask me, dealing with souls of little humans is an idiotic task. Just think about it, small humans are constantly trying to escape control. And you need to be sober, I'm stressing, always sober not to let them go down to hell.
I'm not arguing, there are fun moments. If a person is full of energy, then there's a chance they will change their decisions. And something new will happen every day. (in admiration) It's such a drive when you seem to understand where your ward is going, what will happen, where you need to pay attention, and he, for some unknown reason, does a U-turn on his life. This is where you need to look closely, not just with your two eyes but with three, plus use extrasensory feelings and all the sensory and presensory gifts not to miss the catastrophe. (excitement dies down) But… it has nothing to do with you. It's hard to imagine a more repulsive life, let alone live it.
MYKOLA Why then did you take my soul?
ANGEL I lost a card gamble.
MYKOLA Cards? Angles play...
ANGEL Why, are we worse than people? Yes, it was the last day when I drank beer, played cards, smoked cigars and enjoyed life. I must admit I had one too many. I will never again mix beer and horilka. You are my punishment which I will remember forever. We were traveling in the same carriage together. To be more exact, me and your pregnant mum. Three drunk Angels couldn't think of anything better, stupid idiots, than play jokes on a 40-week old fetus. Whoever lost, was supposed to play a joke on you. Those were you last days in your mother's womb, the next day was you coming into this world. You might have guessed that I lost. So, without thinking twice, I decided that the panic of premature birth would be a good joke. The train stopped abruptly, your mum was slightly pushed, she hit her belly lightly and you started panicking.
It was funny. And that must have been one of the only moments in your life when you had strong emotions. You got tired from the emotions and soon calmed down. But your mother continued panicking. People asked her to calm down, bring her breath in order, have some sedative after all. But she decided the time had come to give birth. And that was another city, evening. Tired obstetrician. To be fair, you lied low and, of course, decided not to get out. But the mother, train hostess Lyubov Orestivna, obstetrician with closed lids, patrol lineman uncle Hrynia with constant hangover smell from his mouth and buffet lady Zina from local railway café – all those people decided unanimously that you had to be born. The decision of the great five shook the skies. Panic ensued. Your Angel was still busy. His client – a musician – was supposed to live another day. The Angel could not abandon him – rules are rules. And your mother was shouting, "The baby, he got quiet, save him! Save!" Half-aired surgery of local small town hospital. Your mother's belly is cut and they take you out. You, who still did not understand whether you needed to get out. That's it. Instead of June 25 you were born on the 24th.
MYKOLA Is it that important?
ANGEL Of course! Another day, date, time, weather, stars, city, obstetrician, Angel. And since the heavenly HR department could not send anyone, and I, pie eyed, had to take your life into my hands.
That is why you were wrong in blaming heavens your whole life. They prepared the best Angel for you. You should have blamed the panicker inside you and your mother who could not deal with you.
MYKOLA But it's you, bastard.
ANGEL Me? Stop it, heaven is full of such bastards. You people always blame someone. And what do you need your head for? Eat, sleep, watch and smell?
MYKOLA (tidies his hair) But I was just a fetus.
ANGEL No, darling, not just a fetus, a fetus of a human.
MYKOLA (measuring the Angel up) And what went wrong? You as the head of a family of drunkards treated me with beer?
ANGEL God forbid! (slapping his lips) You grew up in a fine family. I'm telling you it was the last day when I had beer. I don't want the Universe to cancel me altogether.
So I took your life into my hands. At first, to be honest, I was even proud that I would prove I could also be part of human-growing industry but not for a mere mortal but a gifted one, of the exclusive breed. They predicted your architectural breakthroughs...But...but you...you turned out...Or rather you didn't...They took you lifelessly out of the belly, and you existed lifelessly for all those 48 years. You were predictable in everything. I could even get distracted as I knew you wouldn't do anything bad because you were afraid. You wouldn't do anything crazy because you were scared. You wouldn't escape anywhere because you were a coward. I watched the twists and turns in lives of others – sometimes they had such turns that their Angels summoned Heavenly Council to understand what to do next. And you... (sighs) Because of your sticky life, these ideas have not come true. (Points to smashed models) These ideas are worth being brought to life. But you never became a great architect, you were executive technical drawer, and this will die here in this tomb.
MYKOLA I couldn't become...a great...architect...
ANGEL Of course, you couldn't! How many times have you fainted when dialing the reception of city construction agency? How many times have you hung up?
MYKOLA We-e-ll...
ANGEL They even reported your phone number to the police. Do you remember?
MYKOLA It was a misunderstanding.
ANGEL Of course, misunderstanding, you are that misunderstanding. Not married misunderstanding.
MYKOLA I wasn't lucky. (presses the breast pocket of his jacket with his hand)
ANGEL They weren't lucky with you. Who stopped you from telling Lyuska back in senior year of high school that you liked her?
MYKOLA No, I mean...
ANGEL No, but not me. I couldn't help myself and even tripped her over so that she fell into your embrace.
MYKOLA So that was you?
ANGEL Yes, me. I almost kissed her myself. For so long you were drooling over her face and nothing, you did NOTHING. Her breath was hard, her eyes were full of fire, she was waiting...And, you bastard, rotten vegetable, you put her up and ran away. Gosh, what a nauseating guy. I was shocked then. Lyuska burst into tears and I felt pity for the young creature.
MYKOLA Why are you..you might have as well remembered kindergarten.
ANGEL Kindergarten? Let's go back to kindergarten. You never gave back for the insults, you never took your toys back from bullies, you walked home obediently without your things.
MYKOLA It's normal! Children shouldn't be aggressive.
ANGEL REALLY?! Children? And where is the model of business-centre which your college classmate Zhora Ohryzkin officially inaugurated six months ago? Was that also done without aggression? He came here, got you hammered, put a slut under you and took away the model. And you, worthless rag, haven't said a word to him since.
MYKOLA I have no proof. The model is without signature.
ANGEL Signature? You idiot! Artists have style. You could have made a new model in your unique style in any courtroom or closed room with your eyes shut. No signature! No guts! A day was apparently not enough to form them. Born a coward with no guts, you useless creature.
MYKOLA Enough! (looking critically at the Angel) And in general...I have another image about Angels...You...you...
ANGEL What you-we?
MYKOLA You fly in the sky (tidies his hair) You watch us...from above.
ANGEL You know, what was always perfect about you is that on any day, in any weather and at any temperature of water – you have clean hair. Care for our aesthetic pleasure to watch you from above – we appreciated it over there. Then again, the same as him (points to Gaudí portrait)...
MYKOLA Don't compare me to the great Gaudí . He cared about the decoration of spires. (looking up) "Angels will watch them from above!"
Mykola looks at the portrait, walks toward the wall, hangs the portrait up. He turns around to the Angel.
MYKOLA Why didn't you tell me what to do?
ANGEL I'm not obliged to say or help. I should hint. But you, being not very bright, don't understand hints, I mean you see them, understand but making up your mind and acting - that's not you. The obstetrician who tore your life and instead of you brought "you" into this world...You are waiting to get back in his arms, waiting for him to take you under his arm and put you in front the altar, put you in the reception office of city construction agency, give you your models, open your mouth and say, "I want to be chief architect, here is my CV and my works."
You are waiting for the blood-covered latex-gloved hands of the obstetrician to throw you into the hands of Kateryna from planning department.
MYKOLA Stop it! She is married!
ANGEL Oh God, (slaps himself across the lips, turning a warning look somewhere above) what solemnity. I never noticed her in your solitary dreams.
MYKOLA (angry) Are you peeping into my thoughts?
ANGEL I'm your Angel, I know your thoughts, little and big ones, as the back of my hand. You've been madly in love for several years.
MYKOLA She is married.
ANGEL You've been secretly helping her do her job for several years.
MYKOLA She is married!
ANGEL For several years you've been taking the blame for her mistakes.
MYKOLA She is married!
ANGEL What's wrong with you, married, married. Why the hell is she married and not to you! HUH?!
Mykola gasps for air.
ANGEL Got it?! That's because you are meatball. She waited a million times for you to at least pay her a compliment, she was in silent breathless expectation of you taking her hand. I'm not even mentioning dreamy romantic kisses in the evenings. Here! (heads to the couch, knocks on it) Here on this couch you reworked somebody's absolutely talentless and horrific drawing, your knees touching. Note! She WAS NOT married!!! She was waiting! You were drinking aromatic currant tea! And?! And you did what?!
MYKOLA I-I-I, no-no
ANGEL I didn't – I didn't...You idiot, plain dull idiot who blew his life waiting for the obstetrician's hands. (looks up to the sky) I'm sorry for the human excrements.
MYKOLA That's not like that. Not like that...
ANGEL But how? Come on, tell me. I've said so much and you are just mumbling! Me no, she yes, everything is wrong...
Mykola grabs his head, curls up on the floor. He is writhing in hysteric.
MYKOLA Yes, I am like that. I'm wimpy. I'm worthless. So I cannot make claims for anything else. I'm not worth of being a man, not worth of becoming part of the history of architecture...Only ideal shapes become part of history. Shapes linked with nature, the Creator himself...And I'm, I'm just a loser, I'm weak...
ANGEL Yes, yes. I agree. (comes up to Mykola, gives him the rope) Hang yourself.
Mykola stops whimpering and looks up at the Angel. He nods in agreement. (yes-yes, hang yourself)
Mykola gets up slowly, walks around the room, his pace increases, he walks from model to model.
ANGEL By the way, when you kick the bucket, Zhora Ohryzkin will appropriate all your designs. He will treat the lousy models better, he will restore them. And will be known in history as an architect of new word.
MYKOLA (loudly) Oh, please. And Katria?
ANGEL Katria will have an absolutely emotionless life with the man she doesn't love. And who doesn't love her. She will have children, not your, of course. And for the record, she will call the boy Mykola...
MYKOLA Shut up! Shut up! You awful lousy drunkard, don't you dare touch Katria even-even-even in your thoughts. She is an incredible woman.
ANGEL I'm not saying anything, I'm not saying. (shrugs)
MYKOLA So be quiet! How can you understand human feelings? Yes, I'm soft, indecisive. But I'm not a bastard. I didn't take something that wasn't mine.
ANGEL But you also did not take what was yours.
MYKOLA But I didn't walk over bodies.
ANGEL But you also didn't walk far.
MYKOLA I didn't use force.
ANGEL But they stole everything from you.
MYKOLA Shut up!!! (coming onto the Angel) You! You! It was you, wasn't it? You stole! It all started with your cards, beer and horilka. You're the thief who stole my fate.
ANGEL You're a human! You had everything in your hands.
MYKOLA In mine?! (looks at hands. Calms down. The hysteria changes) In my hands...my hands...(covers his face with his hands) I always did something I didn't want with these hands. I make someone else's drawings, even though I dreamt of working on my own projects. My hands...(he picks up a model) were meant for art. Sometimes I don't control them, they do everything themselves as if somebody controls them, somebody from above, in the sky (the Angel's face is lit with a wide smile. Mykola turns away from him, hiding the model). Not you, bastard.
(he continues passionately and with tears) I love natural forms like nothing else. There is nothing more genius than everything made by the Creator. I hate straight lines – they have been designed by a person with flat thinking, modern homo flat thinker. (walks to Gaudí 's portrait, takes it down) He. He is great. He was not afraid to say this, say and do. Here is the truth, "Architecture creates new organisms and, thus, it has laws in line with the laws of nature; architects who don't realize the effect of this law, create stupid things instead of works of art."
They create stupid things..Yes-yes..Stupid and unnecessary things...I was doing drawings of someone else's stupid things all this time. (grabbing himself by the throat) I'm sicks of reworking someone else's projects, I'm bored to death by drawing all those poles, balusters and columns...I'm choking on the pencil lead dust that I spent on those drawings. (coughs) I feel every bit in my lungs (coughs as if he is feeling sick) I want to pull myself inside out to get out all the lead, every bit to the smallest crystal. (clearing his throat) Yes, I'm a thief, I'm scratching myself out, I'm hiding myself in my models, scratching to free space for routine, dull and boring job, like a doll-maker I'm stuffing my shell with the thoughts of others, absolutely trivial and blank. So the man that you see in front of you is not me, it's a regular clerk like hundreds of others. You can empty me and stuff again with thoughts of others and make me work on somebody's project. I'm a lifeless shell, a pseudo-personality, a pseudo-architect. But I exist! There is a time when I become myself. That is here. Here, I collect myself and give myself to creativity, creation. (gazing at the model) Do you really think I could be different?
ANGEL Do I look like a big mouth?
MYKOLA Well...you said a lot, of course...Is it all true?
ANGEL Of course, it is. Starting from the fact that you need to hang yourself.
MYKOLA Hang myself? Why?
ANGEL Here we go again. In order to change at least something in your life.
MYKOLA Change? But if I quit the architectural bureau...I will change...
ANGEL Well, yes, but...(comes up to the desk. Opens the shelf. Takes out a pile of written-down papers. Reads) Attn: Director...blah-blah-blah. Resignation. I hereby submit my resignation. (turns over) Blah-blah-blah. I submit my resignation because this project does not match my experience. (turns over) Blah-blah-blah. Resignation.
MYKOLA Enough.
ANGEL (going through papers) And this happens at least twice a month. (with evaluation and sarcasm) so many firm proposals, I'm telling you...that's impressive. (Mykola tidies his hair and receives the praise. The Angel cuts down on sarcasm abruptly) But! They never saw the lamp in the director's office. They never travelled farther than the leather section of your case. And nobody cast a glance at these papers but you... (Mykola takes away the pile and hastily puts in back into the desk) So don't waste your time and save trees. Nothing will change from you writing another resignation letter. But if you kick the bucket...(pleased) So many changes! The world will tu-r-r-n! The designs will come to life, the apartment will pass down to your relative from your father's family, he is a such a womanizer, the rooms will be filled with female laughter, cries and tears. It is life! Life! You see, it has to hum! (coming up to Mykola) Be a man. A homo sapiens – wise and level-headed. Please, feel sorry for everybody. Hang yourself at last.
MYKOLA Women giggling? Here? In here? On this couch? (looking at Angel in disgust while the latter nods happily) On the couch where I sat with Kateryna? (the Angel nods happily) Where we drank tea? Currant tea?! Our knees touching?! (The Angel nods happily)
ANGEL (almost roaring from satisfaction) Yes, the couch will be brought back to life. It also wants to be an architectural, or at least furniture, organism.
MYKOLA Stop it!
ANGEL What about it, it's life. A man and a woman – it's normal. You know it yourself.
MYKOLA I'm being serious about it.
ANGEL Yes, too serious, I can count them on the fingers of my hand.
MYKOLA It's not love.
ANGEL And who told you you should only make love?
MYKOLA We are having different opinions.
ANGEL That's true, yours is short-term and mine is of eternity. So, the more peeves, barriers, obstacles, the more boring the life, and to be honest, the more wasteful.
MYKOLA Gaudí was also single. (putting Gaudí 's portrait on the wall)
ANGEL (snorting) Gaudí ?! Yes, Gaudí had the self-respect to become Gaudí . He was also crazy, in my opinion, but still Gaudí . He was unexpected. Just imagine, to see the shape of dome in some colourless maple and get run over by tram No. 30.... crazy. And if he dressed as Gaudí and not Pancho from the dumpster he would have been saved. But he was put into beggar's room and ended up in a coffin.
MYKOLA Stop talking rubbish about the genius. He didn't want to be special. He wanted to be with common folk. You don't judge geniuses.
ANGEL You are a genius who brought more harm into the world than good. Well, how many female eyes could have cried passionate tears? And how many supporters of your talent could be proud of knowing you? And your mother, she could be watching the creations of your favourite Gaudí together with you in Barcelona, and not on impressions inside mummified trees that we call books. You know you are a murdered for burying talent. Yes, yes. When the pale transparent version of you appears between the clouds, I will necessarily raise the question of court. You should be brought before the court.
MYKOLA (indignated) You are getting impudent. Now you? Me? Before the court? You, lazy Angel, drunkard and card player, will bring me before the court?
ANGEL Even Gaudí was brought to responsibility. And you will be for sure.
MYKOLA (surprised) And Gaudí for what?
ANGEL For the tram. For the unfinished cathedral. What's its name? Sagrada Familia, yes!
MYKOLA But that's not a crime.
ANGEL I'm not surprised you're talking like this. But the tram No. 30 driver who did not recognize the great Gaudí in the dirty bum, became a drunkard and lost his job. As a result, he couldn't provide education to two beautiful boys, one of which was destined to become a renowned Spanish poet. So, as you see, he did not become a poet, and the nation lost. And what about the doctor, who gave up on the beggar. When he later found out it was Gaudí, he gave a silence wow and never married, which why two beautiful souls were never born. There was something else there, I don't remember. But this exact careless attitude toward your life changes the whole mechanism.
MYKOLA But he was old, 73 years...that justifies.
ANGEL 73!!! It's experience and it's very little in comparison to eternity. You cannot even imagine how many women could have been happy if Gaudí hadn't had a thing and decided to be single. For all these crimes he was sentenced for community service in our time.
MYKOLA Gaudí ?
ANGEL Yes, he is the same spiritual material as you all are.
MYKOLA (in awe) Amazing. And when did he live?
ANGEL Well, he is not yet dead.
MYKOLA Really? I want to meet him. Give me his phone number.
ANGEL See, you've gotten more lively. What if I say it was the phone number of city construction agency. Huh?
MYKOLA And what is he like? (shuts his mouth)...this fat one...But he has no taste...
ANGEL Snap! Yes? That would be unexpected? (laughing) No, that's not him.
MYKOLA It can't be his secretary with those red lips. (shows a silhouette of big women's breasts) You're pulling my leg.
ANGEL Both yes and no. But Gaudí was indeed sent for correction.
MYKOLA Santiago Calatrava? David Childs? Jeanne Gang? Norman Foster? Bjarke Ingels?
ANGEL Nope.
MYKOLA Gosh, I will not be able to sleep at night.
ANGEL (condemning) Are you planning to get sleep? You hang yourself first, then sleep. Sometime.
MYKOLA Hang myself? Not now. Gaudí himself is here!
ANGEL I'm fed up with you. Gaudí -Gaudí . Gaudí himself was not born Gaudí and doesn't know that he is Gaudí . So even if somebody falls to his knees and says, "Oh the greatest and unique man", he will not understand it.
MYKOLA (shifting from leg to leg impatiently) But at least stand near him. God, I've wasted my life on all the wrong things. Listen, I will give you everything, but tell me who he is! (he almost falls to his knees) What? What do you want? Models, take them if you want. Money, I will give you money. I will sign deed documents for apartment in your name. With...(he turns to the couch) a couch. Just tell me, please.
ANGEL (tired) If I tell you, will you finally hang yourself?
MYKOLA Yes, yes, I will hang myself, I promise. I'm telling the truth (he goes and takes the Gaudí portrait off the wall. Presses it against his chest. Comes back)
ANGEL Are you telling the truth?
MYKOLA No, take everything. There. I'm taking the rope. (he takes the rope and ties it around him) Tell me.
ANGEL Honestly, you are not lying?
MYKOLA Really-really. I swear by the portrait of Gaudí . There goes the rope, I'm putting it on (ties around)
ANGEL You.
MYKOLA Me?
ANGEL And what? You, I say.
MYKOLA Me what?
ANGEL You Gaudí.
MYKOLA Me what? Me who? Who am I? G...G...
ANGEL Gaudí, yes you are Gaudí .
MYKOLA M-e-e-e-e.
ANGEL Yes, I'm shocked myself. Yes you, this pukish modelling clay-like reincarnation.
Mykola drops the rope lifelessly and falls onto the stool.
MYKOLA How? M...m...e...e...e....e
ANGEL Just like that. You died, I mean Gaudí died. Then for more than forty years you had been tried before the court. Witness souls gathered, unborn, abandoned, poor, happy, murdered, bastards and thieves, shortly speaking all of them. And incessant discussions and accusations went on. Your Angel was given a temporary job – not a very long life of a drug-addicted musician. As a result, the musician lived 40 something years instead of 20. The poor musician managed to give up drugs and become a religious person. But after you were put into the belly of your mother, he had an irreversible process of liver cirrhosis...We needed to return your Angel to you. Just think, in another scenario he would die from overdose, but he believed in God (slaps himself across the lips) and was dying in painful convulsions for several months.
MYKOLA But how? I don't believe it.
ANGEL You were blamed because as a genius you had no right to use your life like that. During the last session of Heavenly Congress you were given a chance to rectify your mistakes. Introduce modern world into the rules of organic architecture, make at least one woman happy and have children. But...By the grace of faith, you failed your life completely. So go hang yourself and let's stop with this chatting for today.
MYKOLA Gaudí ? Hang? (almost coarsely) Are you out of your mind, insane?! (The Angel looks confused) It's a crime! (walks from corner to corner) I'm a criminal. I destroyed the life of a renowned architect. They will not just cancel me for this, they will delete me from history.
ANGEL They will not delete you. Hang yourself.
MYKOLA Hang yourself? Do you think that I, Mykola Bordyurnyi, have the tiniest right to touch the neck of the great Gaudí ?! (The Angel has his eyes wide open. Mykola grabs the rope) This rope should at least be made of pure gold! (he looks at Gaudí portrait and puts it face down on the stool. He touches his neck with his arms) God, at least they won't tell me I took bad care of my body...I like washing it...No, this body is mine but inside...
ANGEL (understanding that Mykola gets carried away) Stop ranting. Hang yourself, we'll deal with it later. They will tell you what you did right and what you did wrong.
MYKOLA Hang yourself? I don't have the slightest right to be so careless with such a precious stuffing as genius.
ANGEL (putting the rope into Mykola's hands) Listen, as far as I remember, and you were talking about it yourself some minutes ago, you were scratching yourself out of yourself, i.e. genius, just to please your architectural bureau...
MYKOLA Yeeeees, I'm a monster, I was trying to destroy Gaudí . And he was coming out! He was coming out of me! (walks from model to model) He and his genius were coming out of me. My hands are his hands, they were creating. They hated me and created. And I noticed. I did not understand them. I underestimated the genius in me. A genius got into me. No (straightens up) Me! GENIUS!
ANGEL Oh, here we go. Sense of grandeur. Let's now do a genius hanging.
MYKOLA Hang myself? Are you talking to me? Genius? Best of the best?
The Angel is speechless.
MYKOLA You low-winged, do you have a trouble to hear me? I am a genius. I will now show them all what a baluster stands on. Zhorka and Artem Filypovych. (grabs the phone. The Angel tries to snatch the receiver. Mykola dogdes)
Hello! Is this Zoya Ivanivna? Hello to you too, (the Angel looks at Mykola with a smile, as if he doesn't have the guts to finish the conversation), it's Mykola Bordyurnyi. Ah, you recognized me? Ah, yes, well. The thing is...(the Angel laughs inaudibly. Mykola straightens up, pronouncing the words loudly and clearly) I. quit. Yes! Q-u-i-t! (The Angel opens his eyes in disbelief) Amazing word. Very, very organic. Yes, you heard me right. I quit!
He hangs up. Runs up to the table, takes out the papers and throws them into the air.
I quit! How nice. Right? (to the Angel) This is worth living for. But that's not it. Not it, my winged friend. (he changes in his face and shows the Angel his fist) Bloody drunkard, idler.
He picks the phone again.
ANGEL Where are you calling?
MYKOLA (brazenly) You will find out soon. To heavens. (he presses his palm against the receiver) I'm kidding. Almost... Hello! Good afternoon, my dear! Is this city construction agency? (The Angel nods his head in disbelief that he will finish the conversation, crosses his hands, a catty smile on his face) Perfect! This is the mayor's reception office. Yes, yes, I'm telling you, mayor's. (The Angel is surprised) My dear, a very talented and, I would even call him genius, architect will soon come to your office. The mayor asks you to make him Chief Architect of the city. What is his name? Mykola Bordyurnyi. Yes, yes. Bordyurnyi. Of course! Certainly! He will bring all his works. Trust me, they speak for themselves. You will see him soon!
ANGEL (confused) Architect, have you lost your mind, have your floor structures fallen down, has your architectural form had a meltdown? Let's go back to the pattern – you promised to hang yourself.
MYKOLA (dialing the next number) Hang myself? Me? Mykola Bordyurnyi? Antonio Gaudí ? Don't count on that. I'm sorry but I'd better deal with everything here, on Earth. THEY'D better hang themselves instead of me …
Hello! Taxi, please. 45 Nevrazumilova Street. Where? Are you kidding me, to city construction agency, of course. I understand- I understand. Zodchykh street, building 2,, office of the Chief... Ok, ok. I'm waiting.
ANGEL For crying out loud...Calm down, please, otherwise you will be sent to mental hospital like hundreds of Napoleons. I'm sorry but I don't want to spend my young years in the corridors of a mental hospital...(he walks up, looking into Mykola's face) And what if there's competition there? Ah? Aren't you afraid to meet several genius Gaudí s under one roof? Ah? Calm down.
Mykola continues to dial.
MYKOLA (snobbishly) I'm beyond competition. Hello, is it Kateryna? (voice softens) Yes, it's me-me. Hmm. Kateryna...(the Angel smiles, he will definitely have no guts for this) I wanted to tell you long ago...(the Angel rubs his hands, takes the rope and walks to Mykola) Forgive me for everything and...I...I wanted to tell you...I love you! Yes, Katrusia, I'm madly in love with you! God, how nice it is to say that! I love you! And I don't care that you are married. I know that you don't love him and he doesn't love you. Am I right? Right? My love, pack your bags, I'm now going to city construction agency and then will pick you up. I'm taking you with me. I'm not joking. Wait for me! Everybody wait for me! (hangs Gaudí portrait on the wall)
ANGEL Madness...Turn...Where?
Mykola collects the models, packs them in boxes and takes the rolls in a heap. The Angel is confused and helps him sporadically.
MYKOLA Wait for me everybody!!! (walks toward the exit. Comes back) Addresses the Angel pointing to the models) You will now have a better view to watch. (leaves)
ANGEL Guys! (shouting at something above) No beer today. I'm having total drive in the next few years – competition, courts, fights with Katruskia's husband, children, plane trips, bad nannies and...fans – half of the world of fans!
Gets tangled in the rope and almost falls.
ANGEL Aha, hanged himself, of course! Wait! I'm coming with you! (runs away)
Curtain.