Сцена. На сцене - старый граф. Он в...

Scene. On the stage is an old count. He is in a strict semi-military frock coat, his face is gloomy, significant and obese. The old count rings the bell, the Servant appears.
Old Count: Is it served?
Servant (backstage): Served to eat?
(from the wings): Served to eat.
Servant Grafu: Served to eat.
The expression of discontent on the face of the old count is a little softened. Order restored. Lunch was not late. The foundations of the house are not broken.
Old Count (nodding to himself): Served to eat. (goes backstage)
The servant comes to the count's nephew, who is sitting in a corner on the sofa and reading a thick cover book. He touches his shoulder.
Servant: To eat. Filed.
Nephew raises his head. There are still book images in his eyes, his eyes are distracted and wandering, an uncertain smile in the corners of his lips.
Nephew (asks in surprise): To eat? Filed?
Servant (patiently, like a child): Eat. Filed.
Nephew (beaming): Eating ... (smiling happily in his mouth) is served.
It seems that this simple fact struck him to extremes, showed some hitherto incomprehensible harmony of the world. If it’s served, it means someone needs it!
Nephew (jumping up, joyfully raising his hands): Eat!
(With a cry of “Filed!” Disappears behind the curtains)
The servant, hunched over and limp, rubs his fingers with whiskey and approaches the edge of the stage. Looks into the auditorium.
Servant: To eat served ... To eat ... served ... (sighs) To eat served. Eat? (he asks loudly and answers to himself) Filed! EAT?! (he yells, clearly hinting at the count's demanding voice and answers, humiliatingly bending his knees and looking from the bottom up with a slavish smile on his face) Filed! (opens before someone invisible, bowing low each time and squeezing a respectful smile) Eat served, eat served, eat ...
The servant freezes, struck by some thought.
Servant: Filed! (kicks something invisible with his foot)
For some time, he distributes kicks and denticles into the space, inflicting considerable moral damage on the imagined offenders. Then, realizing the absurdity of the situation, he stops and shakes his head sadly. And suddenly, remembering, claps himself on the forehead: "Served to eat!" - and runs away backstage.
On the other hand, the marquise's mug warped by the malicious joy protrudes. He clearly intended something unkind.
Marquis (giggling disgustingly): Is it served? Hehe hehe. Eat? Yeah, but! (rubs his handles and quickly hides behind the curtain)
Two young earl’s granddaughters rush past, one with a laugh pulls the other’s hand in a hurry: “It’s served!”
The Marquis, leaning out from behind the curtains, looks after them and again giggles disgustingly.
From afar comes the indignant roar of the old count: Is it served? !! Dinner is served?!!
The count, barely held by his nephew and granddaughters, bursts into the scene. In front of him, a miserable and trembling servant backs off, the count presses on him, shaking him in the air with a long rusty nail, on which a wet bay leaf is stuck.
Old Count: Is it served? Dinner is served?!!! (He breaks out of the hands of his relatives, knocks the Servant on the floor and thrusts a nail into his heart. He gets up to his full height and proclaims in the voice of a judge, like a sentence, clearly meaning “Here you go!”) Eat. Filed.
Granddaughters gasp and wallow without feelings. The old count with dignity is removed from the scene.
The nephew, as if not believing his eyes, approaches the dead servant, leans in, freezes. Squats nearby, reaches out a trembling hand, but does not dare to touch. He looks at the cooling corpse and repeats, as if wound up: "To eat ... served ... to eat ... served ..." Slowly raises his eyes and looks into the auditorium. The world is crumbling in his eyes.
The light goes out.
A curtain.

P.S. A barman peeks into the hall with the words: "Served to eat."
The hall roars and, treading and overturning chairs, breaks into the buffet (s)