Puppet-People in the Theater of the Absurd. Divine Tragicomedy

© Valeriy Zhiglov, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0067-9533-4

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

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.*

*Strange music plays – as if someone is trying to tune an old jukebox, but it’s jamming, producing staccato sounds.*

Master (enters, slightly stooped, with a solemn yet weary look, holding a wooden block and a spool of thread):

– Well then… Today I’m playing God again. Or a plumber. Sometimes you can’t tell the difference. Birthing a puppet is like cooking grandma’s borscht: the recipe seems simple, but it comes out either too salty, too bland, or completely tasteless. The main thing is that it doesn’t fall apart in the first five minutes and doesn’t ask for a raise.

*He places the block on the table and begins methodically attaching wooden parts to it, while talking to himself.*

– Head… (attaches) Body… (threads) Arms… (tries to connect, but one arm falls) Ah yes, don’t forget the soul! (pauses, stares into emptiness) Where is it? Probably lost in the closet with debts and unpaid bills. Or worse, in the bureaucracy department.

*The Master sighs, takes the spool of thread, and carefully begins “sewing” Petrushka together.*

– You know, they say puppets are immortal. Ha! Immortal, yes, but will they survive a mortgage? That’s the question. If Petrushka survives his first breath and his first payment – he’s already a hero.

*Suddenly, Petrushka begins to slowly stir: lifts his head, blinks his wooden eyes, tries to take his first step – and falls to the floor with a characteristic creak.*

Petrushka (with slight bewilderment and surprise):

– Um… Hello? I’m the newbie here. Who am I? Why am I? And why do I have such weird joints? And why won’t my legs obey? Or is it like that for everyone?

*He tries to smile, but only manages a wooden, slightly creaky one.*

*From behind the curtains, a children’s choir voice is heard – but with a clear note of sarcasm and weariness.*

Choir of Puppets (voices like a children’s choir, but with obvious cynicism):

– Born! Study! Work! Mortgage! Died!

(they repeat with varying intonation, sometimes stumbling, questioning each other, and laughing)

Petrushka (tries to smile, but the smile is wooden and slightly creaky):

– Sounds inspiring… or terrifying. Either way, I already want a break. Can I have some coffee? Or at least a battery?

*He tries to stand up, but falls again, making a funny creak. The Master looks at him with weary affection.*

Master (with sadness and irony):

– Welcome to life, Petrushka. Here you’ll face endless rehearsals, meaningless dialogues, and eternal mortgages. But don’t worry – everyone here has joints like that.

*The curtain slowly closes to the sounds of creaky laughter and jamming music.*

Scene 2: Childhood and Learning

*The curtain opens smoothly. On stage – a dreary classroom in the theater of the absurd. Desks made of peeling wood, posters on the walls with slogans like “Study so you don’t die of boredom!” and “Mortgage – your best friend and toughest boss.” Puppets sit at the desks, looking equally tired and slightly stiff. In the center – Petrushka, trying not to fall asleep. Next to him – Margarita, bright and energetic, like a ray of sunshine in this gloomy realm.*

*The Teacher enters – another puppet with huge glasses that constantly slide down his nose. His voice is monotonous, like a looped recording.*

Teacher (with an expression of absolute seriousness and slight weariness):

– Today we learn to be obedient. Repeat after me:

(he pauses, like a narrator in a medicine ad)

“Life is work. Work is life. Mortgage is happiness.”

*Puppets in chorus, with obvious lack of enthusiasm:*

– Life is work. Work is life. Mortgage is happiness.

*Petrushka whispers to his neighbor, who indifferently twists his head:*

– What if I say I want to be a pirate? Or at least a circus clown? I want to tear these strings at least once in my life and not pay taxes for it!

*Margarita turns sharply, her eyes sparkling, like a flash of light in the dark classroom.*

Margarita (with defiance and sparkle in her eyes):

– Pirates are last century! Now it’s trendy to be stage stars! I want to shine! Not sit in this gloomy classroom where even the cobwebs on the ceiling are better than our dreams!

*The Teacher sharply raises his finger, his glasses clatter to the floor, he glares angrily at Margarita.*

Teacher (with anger and authoritative tone):

– Silence! Dreams are for those who can’t calculate mortgage interest! And if you want to shine – go to the light, but don’t forget: light is the electricity bill that comes at the end of the month and makes you cry.

*Petrushka and Margarita exchange glances – a mix of hope, doubt, and slight panic in them.*

*At this moment, the Choir of Puppets bursts into the classroom – all in identical gray suits, with faces that say “we’ve already given up.” They start singing to the backing track of an old Soviet song, but the lyrics change:*

Choir of Puppets (in song, with sarcasm):

– Study to work,

Work to pay,

Pay the mortgage,

And don’t dare dream!

*Petrushka whispers quietly to Margarita:*

– You know, I’m starting to think piracy isn’t so bad. At least pirates don’t have mortgages.

*Margarita smiles, but sadness flickers in her eyes.*

Margarita:

– The main thing is not to forget that even pirates had a crew. And we – only this endless classroom.

*The Teacher raises his hand, as if putting an end to the conversation.*

Teacher:

– Remember, children, dreams are a luxury that only those who have already paid off their mortgage can afford. For now – repeat: “Life is work. Work is life. Mortgage is happiness.”

*The curtain slowly closes to the sound of creaking desks and Petrushka’s quiet chuckle, as he tries not to cry.*

Scene 3: First Doubt and the Appearance of the Shadow

*The light on stage gradually dims, as if someone is turning off a lamp in an abandoned house. The air grows heavier, and suddenly the Shadow emerges from behind the curtains – a mysterious, elongated silhouette, resembling a mix of a ghost and a botched silhouette from a children’s shadow theater. It moves slowly across the stage, as if floating, and whispers, but its voice echoes through the hall with a note of sarcasm and weariness, like an old philosopher who’s stared at the stars for too long.*

Shadow (in a whisper, but with irony, as if winking):

– What if all this is just a game? What if our lives are just scripts written by someone in another world? What if we’re puppets in the Master’s hands? Oh, sorry if I’m spoiling it, but… surprise! You’re all marionettes in a play called “Life That No One Ordered.”

*Petrushka, standing in the center of the stage, looks at the Shadow with anxiety – his wooden eyes widen like a child’s seeing a monster under the bed. But then his gaze becomes defiant, as if he’s finally decided to rebel.*

Petrushka (with a mixed voice – fear and defiance, with a slight creak):

– If I’m a puppet, does that mean I can’t choose my own fate? That I’m just a toy in someone else’s hands? Hey, Shadow, are you serious? I was just born, and I already feel like that kitten forgotten in a box labeled “Free.”

Shadow (with a sarcastic chuckle, its silhouette slightly bending, as if shrugging):

– Maybe. Or maybe you’re just afraid to tear the strings. You know, like in that joke: “Why doesn’t the puppet leave? Because the strings hold it, and fear holds the soul.” But hey, if you tear them – you’ll get freedom. Or just fall and break. Choose yourself, wooden friend.

*Margarita, who has been standing aside until now, suddenly intervenes – her laughter echoes across the stage, bright and infectious, but with a hint of bitterness.*

Margarita (laughs, but her voice carries defiance and slight sadness):

– Let him be afraid! I’d rather dance until the strings snap! Hey, Shadow, if it’s all a game, I want to be the main character! Let the strings snap like confetti at a party! And if I break – oh well, at least I’ll die with music!

*Petrushka looks at her in surprise, then joins the laughter, but his creaky smile looks slightly frightened.*

Petrushka (with sarcasm, trying to hide fear):

– Dance? What if the strings are actually chains? Or worse, the cable from the TV that only shows mortgage ads?

*The music grows louder – an absurd mix of a circus march and a funeral dirge, as if someone mixed up the reels in an old movie theater. The Choir of Puppets, who have been hiding behind the curtains, rushes onto the stage in chaotic order. They start singing an absurd song about “life-work-mortgage,” but with obvious sarcasm: some sing loudly and off-key, others whisper, and a few just giggle.*

Choir of Puppets (in song, with sarcasm and absurdity):

– Life is work,

Work is debt,

Mortgage is happiness,

And happiness is… debt!

(they repeat, stumbling and adding improvisations like “Oops, string snapped!” or “Who’s the Master? He’s in debt again?”)

*Despite their doubts, Petrushka and Margarita start to dance – awkwardly, with comical falls and creaks. Petrushka tries to “tear the strings,” jerking, but only gets more tangled. Margarita spins like a star, but stumbles and laughs. The Shadow watches, its silhouette slowly fading into the darkness, leaving behind an echo of laughter and a whisper: “The game continues… until the strings snap.”*

*The curtain closes amid the growing chaos of music and laughter, but a slight sadness hangs in the air – as if the laughter masks the fear of the unknown.*

Key Moment: Petrushka’s Realization

*Scene: rehearsal space of the theater of the absurd. Petrushka and other puppets stand in a row, preparing for the next “scene of life.” Scripts are scattered on the floor – stacks of papers with the same phrases and directions: “Get up,” “Work,” “Pay the mortgage,” “Smile,” “Die.”*

*Petrushka picks up one of the scripts and begins reading aloud, but the words sound strangely familiar – as if he has heard them a thousand times before.*

Petrushka (with light irony and confusion):

– “Get up. Work. Pay the mortgage. Smile. Die.” Yeah, sure, like I haven’t heard that since childhood, when I was learning to be obedient, and at work, when I pretended to work. It’s like I’m an actor in an eternal play, where all roles are already assigned, and improvisation is a crime.

*He tries to take a step aside, but invisible straps pull the strings, bringing him back.*

Petrushka (sarcastically):

– Oh, freedom of choice! What a beautiful illusion! Only the strings won’t let you leave the first scene.

*At that moment, other puppets start fooling around like kids on recess: some try to dance, some make funny faces, some fall – but it all repeats again and again, like a looped recording.*

*One puppet tries to hide behind the curtain, but the strings yank it back onto the stage.*

Choir of Puppets (smiling, but tired):

– Get up again. Work again. Pay again. Smile again. Die again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

*Petrushka watches this scene and suddenly realizes:*

Petrushka (quietly, almost whispering, with bitterness and a slight smile):

– Life… begins with the illusion of freedom – when you first open your eyes and think the whole world is at your feet. But very quickly it turns into routine – an endless repetition of someone else’s scripts, where you’re just a puppet playing a role written by someone else.

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