The mother eats, not too loudly and clearly, but still slurps.
The son sits, does not eat, and with gentle glances sends passes of mimic gestures of disapproval in the direction of the mother.
The mother pays attention to this. She's worried.
MOM (annoyed): What is it, dear?
YURA (ornately): Here… Such case.
MOTHER (alarmed): Well,what?
YURA (prevaricating): I don't even know how to say…
MOM (alarmed): Speak up, Lord Almighty. What happened?
YURA (annoyed): You're slurping! Annoying!
Mom lets out a sigh of relief, preparing for something more weighty.
MOM (guiltily): So I'm old, no teeth read. And so I try to be careful.
JURA (on the nerves): And not particularly it turns out!
Mom shrugs guiltily and continues to eat. Every now and then she makes a little noise.
YURA (with a flourish and a grimace): It may sound a little strange, it may even sound rude, and I admit that it may even be outrageous, but… Listen… And you couldn't eat somewhere out there… in the kitchen, for example, because you're losing your appetite, and Breakfast is the most important food, you said yourself… my
Mother humbly takes her Cup, spoon, and leaves the table.
MOM (guiltily): Yes,Yes… I understand everything. When I was young, my grandfather also irritated me with such phenomena… it came back to me. Enjoy your meal, son. I'm in the kitchen, if you need anything, call out.
Mom leaves.
The son makes a disgusted face, a little contemptible shiver runs through him (twitches). He looks to see if mom's gone, grimaces. The mood lifts, and he begins to eat with an impudent haughty expression on his face.
With a clang, clang and crash, almost falling, Sanek runs into the room, trying to keep his balance.
An iron basin and bucket, a ladle, all this also flies into the room obviously after meeting with the clumsy foot of a not too young and not particularly attentive man.
SANEK (on emotion, rushing into the room): .
Yura is sitting with her back to him, jumping up from the clang and crash, spilling porridge on her pants, the plate falls to the floor, but the spoon with the pitiful remnants of Breakfast is still in her hand.
YURA (recovering from the shock, trying to cope with a nervous TIC that came from nowhere): Sanek… Healthy, old boy. You what is this neither light nor sh…, (takes a breath) nor dawn, and even so shocking. And what about the mother? I didn't hear…
Sanek collects the basin, bucket, and ladle that he dropped, and carefully sets them all aside.
SANEK (irritated): Yes, I'm talking… Your mother is a good woman. Economic. All something kolgotitsya, something pyzhitsya, something all makes, prepares… (points to the basin and bucket), washes, obviously. Or are you doing the Laundry?
Yura's outraged facial expressions and gestures speak for themselves.
YURA (taken aback): A fool or what?
SANYA (smoothing out the corners): Me? Yes, it seems not quite. It's just that the "tazovederny trains" in your house didn't cross my path before. And as for neither light nor SRA… (takes a breath) nor dawn, so it's you overreacted. What a morning, it's almost eleven o'clock!
Yura licks the remains of the porridge from the spoon and calls out to her mother with displeasure.
YURA (loudly, addressing the kitchen): Mom! Here it is… Need a rag… and grab a dustpan and brush!
Mom comes running with a rag, brush and dustpan, warmly greets Sanka. He's busy cleaning up after his son.
