Contents

Scene: An empty theater, on stage — a lone puppet Petrushka. He moves slowly, as if in slow motion, talking to himself.

Petrushka:

“Born… (pause)

Studied… (pause)

Went to work… (pause)

Took a mortgage… (pause)

Paid it off… (pause)

Died… (deep sigh)

And what? What’s next? Where’s the meaning? Puppets don’t die… or do they?”

At this moment, the Shadow appears — a mysterious character who starts asking Petrushka unexpected questions, making him doubt his usual logic.

From the Author

Oh, wretched spectators! Welcome to this cursed theater of the absurd, where puppets don’t just dance and fall — they live, suffer, and ask questions that will make your head spin like Petrushka’s after his fourth glass of “imaginary” wine! Here, each of us is a pathetic marionette in the hands of fate, jerking on strings that someone (or no one?) pulls from above. And yes, this applies to all of us — people, puppets, even to this poor Master who has himself gotten tangled in his own creations!

Imagine: you are born — bam! — from nothing, like Petrushka from an old toolbox. Then you study — ha-ha! — “reading” the blank pages of life, where each chapter ends with the word “work.” Then you go to work — oh woe! — and take out a mortgage that chokes you like a noose of threads until you pay it off (or not), and finally… you’re dead. Classic! But in this endless cycle hides a great comedy: we’re all clowns in the costumes of serious people, trying to “settle up” with life, while it just laughs and adds another debt.

Our hero Petrushka is not just a wooden head. He is the embodiment of our inner chaos: dreaming of freedom, but tripping over his own feet (which, by the way, are on strings!). Alongside him is Margarita — the stage star who cries from laughter and laughs from tears, because her fame is just a mirage in a dusty theater. And the Master? Oh, he is the tragic tyrant, creating puppets to forget his own emptiness. And the Shadow — that damned Shadow! — who whispers horrors at the most inconvenient times, making you doubt: what if life is just a rehearsal before the final curtain fall?

In this book, you will laugh until you cry and cry from laughter — because the absurdity of our lives knows no bounds. This is not just a story; it’s a soul’s cry in an empty hall: why do we live if every step is a step toward the edge of the abyss? But don’t be afraid — there are no simple answers here, but plenty of absurdities that will make you think: maybe the meaning is just… not to fall?

So grab your ticket to this mad circus! Fasten your strings, turn on the house lights, and get ready for a show where tragedy and comedy embrace like old friends. And remember: even if you’re a puppet, you always have a choice — to laugh at the absurd or… well, you know. Welcome to the theater of the absurd. Let the performance begin!

Act 1: Birth and Childhood — “Born…”

Objective:

Introduce the world of the theater of the absurd and the main characters. Set the tone — a blend of comedy, absurdity, and light philosophical melancholy.

— —

Scene 1: Petrushka’s Birth

*The curtain slowly rises. On stage — an old, creaky wooden crate. Inside — scattered tools: a hammer, nails, a spool of thread, pieces of fabric, and scraps of paper with notes like “Meaning of Life — TBD.” In the background — dim light, like in an abandoned workshop. The air smells of dust and something vaguely bitter.*