An Astringent Effluvium
Beethoven: hmmmm...."Sweetie"... no. "Honey"...... No. (absently twists pen around)... hmm..... "Hot mama".. (sniffs derisively) ..sound like Liszt. "Dear".. (grumbles, then hops up and paces, hands behind back.. he continues like this for sometime, until inspiration strikes) ah - (grabs pen and paper; they are, of course, Wagner's stationery supplies, but the fool need not ever find out) "To the dear and mysterious bringer of light...
I walked home tonight and found myself lost because I cannot forget the way you looked, weaving the sunlight in your hair, all smiles and pouts and a hundred emotions, or maybe that last one was me..."
(He looks up, frowning again, but his thoughts are interrupted by faint voices - fluctuating in dynamics rather alarmingly.. Probably a couple of drunks walking by. But the voices do not fade, they become steadily louder.. Beethoven scowls, though he is curious to make out some words.)
Voice1: too RIGID inhis views - I--
Voice2: yeahh but hesupportsus
Voice1: RIGID -- I -- whoa
Voice2: watchit-- now yougottaappreciate theeffort
Voice1: tyrant! THEORIST withno Understanding of real ART
Voice2: but REAL realism yeah - thatswhat helikes
(Beethoven peers out the window and has to smile at the sight: of course Modest Mussorgsky would be out at 2am drunkenly leaning on a friend (who's smaller than he is) and arguing about realist aesthetics. Perhaps they should be let in; the door is locked after all..
Mussorgsky and his friend Arseny (whom readers will remember from the art exhibit) stop at the door. Mussorgsky fumbles about in his pocket for his keys, using the other hand to lean against the wall)
Mussorgsky: now.. hesagood guy
Arseny(shaking head emphatically): no no he doesnt understand
Mussorgsky: youmean he doesnt understand yourpoetry
Arseny: an ARCH CRIME! (they laugh)
Mussorgsky: ohhhh crap (he pulls his keys out of his pocket too quickly and sends them flying into the bushes as he loses his grip.)
Arseny: well thats some fate (sits on step) theres some less spinningfrom down here-
(Mussorsgky tries to sit next to him, but navigating the front step while crouching down to sit is a bit too much - he teeters dangerously and grabs Arseny's shoulder for balance)
Mussorgsky: whooaa-
Arseny: hey Imnota stepstool
Mussorgsky(sits): whew now imsorrytasay ithink you have more tolerancethan i do
Arseny: no ithink you drank 6 more vodkatonics than i did... then i lost count
Mussorgsky: well thats niceofyou tosay (they sit in silent camaraderie for a moment)
Arseny: youknow we should convince ilya to paint a scene from the - the sper--perspective ofa a drunk
Mussorgsky: alltilted the wildhues the stidor-distro-dist--- aghh - L'ABERRATION!c'esttoutlecontraire dur�alisme!
Arseny: and yet-
(Beethoven opens the door)
Beethoven: Did I hear French?
Mussorgsky(turns around too quickly): Ohh.. heya hey ludwig
Arseny: isthisthe right place?
Mussorgsky: yeah thisis ludwig. he lives here (tries to stand, again using Arseny for balance) ok - ahh -
Beethoven(grabs him by the collar and hauls him upright): I feel privileged. I haven't ever seen you this drunk.
Mussorgsky(readjusts collar primly as he stands back): thats usuallya privilege reservedfor my Russianfriends.
Beethoven(gestures at Arseny): this is one of them?
Mussorgsky: yeah, he writespoetry. hes Count Arseny Golenischev-Kutusov.
Arseny: see you arenot that drunk ifyoucansay my wholename.
(Beethoven catches Mussorgsky as he totters again -- he turns his head to G-K.)
Beethoven: Are you coming in, Mr....... Count?
Arseny(laughs): no no ishould be going (tries to stand, and manages after a bit of shaking. He looks about appraisingly) ahh.. betteraftera rest.. now.... (looks to the left side of the street...... then to the right...scratches head) whereare we again??
Beethoven: Come, you'd better just sleep here.
Mussorgsky: yeah Arseny we have a nice reclining armchair inthelivingroom theresevena bottlea stoli innthe back pad
Beethoven(mumbles): wouldnt Hildegard be interested to hear that...?
So the Russians collapse in the living room. Beethoven takes his letter outside and finishes it by moonlight, finally dozing off around 4.
Little more than an hour later there's movement again in the house. Cut to stairwell - Brahms jogs down, dressed already, bright-eyed, not scowling. He stops abruptly at the foot of the stairs and sniffs. Alcohol.
Brahms: ..who drowned in a vat of vodka?? (walks to TV room, making no attempts to be quiet; there's Mussorgsky sprawled on the sofa- but lo! there's another one in the arm chair. Brahms is curious, creeps closer - no, not anyone he recognizes. Some friend of Modest's obviously - suddenly the stranger opens his eyes)
Arseny: ah, I see the natives find me an object of curiosity
Brahms(stands back): well I was just checking to see if you weren't dead .. judging from all the alcohol I smell-
Arseny: oh no (chuckles) thats just vodka, you only have to be worried if you smell vomit as well-
Brahms: I can see why you and Modest get along.
(sounds of uneven footsteps on the stairs; Brahms glances out into the hallway)
Arseny(yawns): people up already?? what time is it?
Brahms: That's Antonio. So it must be 5:35.
Arseny: in the morning?
(Zacara, also dressed and bright-eyed, appears in the doorway)
Zacara: I thought I heard talking.. (sees Arseny) who are you?
Brahms: One of Modest's friends. Apparently not hungover. Well you can entertain him. Someone has to get breakfast together. (walks out; Zacara goes about introducing himself to Arseny, idle conversation ensues)
Later we find Arseny sitting in with the second breakfast shift at 8 - chatting pleasantly with Strozzi, Tchaik, Beethoven, and Liszt.
Strozzi: So did they actually feed you?
Arseny: I think they would have, but I went back to sleep..
Tchaik: I'm sorry we woke you up -
Liszt: You're welcome to stay, as long as you don't mind sleeping on the arm chair..
Beethoven: thats where I usually sleep ..
Strozzi: What?
(Enter Mussorgsky)
Mussorgsky: Hey Arsenys still here
Arseny: Yes, did you know you have housemates who wake up at 5 in the morning?
Mussorgsky(frowns): .... I do?
Liszt(laughs): first he's heard of it!
Arseny: Four of them were eating breakfast at 6o'clock!
Mussorgsky: ... i dont understand
Arseny: I don't know how many more.. I went to sleep again.
Liszt: Most of them go to work.
(Arseny stands, stretches - pulls his chair out for Mussorgsky)
Arseny: I should probably be going. I'm not going to eat your food and steal your seat. Though I'm glad to have made your housemates' acquaintance (smiles especially at Strozzi)
Mussorgsky: yeah theyre bearable most of the time..
(So Muss shows his friend out, returns shortly to the table where the others have resumed conversation)
Liszt: that's what I need: a good poet. Dante can become a bit cumbersome at times-
Tchaik(to Muss): Where do you find them, Modest?!
Mussorgsky(takes a piece of toast): hm?
Tchaik: Don't act unknowing. Where'd you find this one? an enthusiastic young poet with a taste for music and Russian history.. and good looking too!
Mussorgsky: ehh, i dont know about that
Strozzi: No, he's definitely good looking.
Mussorgsky: I mean the russian history. i was telling him about my new opera plans.
Liszt: what about the old one?
Mussorgsky: tired of it. (yawns) still too early to be up.. nap time (wanders out, half-eaten toast still in hand)
Tchaik: Highly suspicious...
Strozzi(laughs): Wait - weren't you the one complaining about people meddling in your love affairs?
Tchaik: Yes, that's people meddling in my affairs. It's fine when I meddle in theirs! (they laugh)
Not long after Muss has disappeared, Hildegard tiptoes into the kitchen.
Tchaik: Hildegard, now what are you sneaking around for?
Hildegard: sh - he may not be asleep yet..
Liszt: hm.. Does this have to do with the anti-alcohol crusade?
Hildegard: Yes, I hope you will all help me.
Liszt: I don't know if I'm capable of doing any good.
Hildegard(smirks): Perhaps I was a bit angry yesterday and said some things out of line. I apologize, Franz.
Liszt(shocked): Oh.. well..... I accept. Right. So what's your plan? (they huddle around Hildegard.....)
Hildegard's grand scheme doesn't seem to involve any immediate work, as the rest of the morning goes without incident. However, another problem - even more pressing than that of Mussorgsky's alcoholism - has... become noticeable. Cut to the hallway, where Wagner is striding purposefully toward the kitchen - Mozart comes down the stairs - they meet, regarding one another like two childhood rivals running into each other years later..
Wagner: Wolfgang.
Mozart: If you want me to pick up curtains for you, forget it. We all know you won't pay Ludwig back.
Wagner: Nonsense, he understood it to be a charitable contribution to a good cause.
Mozart: Anyway, I think we should accost Mr. Mahler today. he's home - his car is in the driveway.
Wagner: ..."We"?
Mozart(cheerily): Of course. You do the talking, I'll do the thinking.
Wagner(closes eyes awaiting divine patience -- sniffs suddenly) good God - do you smell that??
Mozart: What? (sniffs) No.... (looks around as if expecting a visual clue) What is it??
Wagner: A faint odour - a .... wafting smell a-- noxious vapor! an astringent effluvium! (frowns distastefully - then Mozart's face contorts as it hits him)
Mozart: oh.. heheh
Wagner: yes, it rather smells like....
Mozart: Poop.
Wagner(begrudgingly): .... yes.
Mozart: ah hahahah! ahh, what a fine word, "Poop." It's a palindrome, you realize -
Wagner: Yes, I'm well aware, Wolfgang. But I'm more concerned about whence this offending odour could be emanating!
Mozart(mock seriousness, as if making a guest cameo on dragnet): Well I'd hate to continue the toilet humour, but perhaps we should check the bathroom.. (raises eyebrow in intrigue)
Wagner(chagrinned): ... yes. Perhaps you should go inspect...!
Mozart: Oh, only if you accompany me, Richard - I fear to tranverse the boundaries of the guest bathroom alone..
Wagner: (rolls eyes)
Mozart: Actually I don't need you running off to have our elusive neighbor to yourself, do I?
Wagner: I see I shall have no peace if I don't go with you...
(So the two walk the other 5 feet down the hallway to the guest bathroom - but nothing is out of place - it's quite clean and there's no unpleasant smell.. They are confused)
Mozart: I'm confused. I'm stupefied, hopeless, dismayed..
Wagner: Perhaps we should leave this mindless work to the others.. A sign to drive us from the doldrums of our petty home life into the more pleasantly-odoured embrace of the wide world --Destiny awaits across the street. Onward! (they storm out, taking their opera manuscripts with them..)
Mozart is suprised to find not one but two cars in Mahler's driveway as they walk over.
Mozart: Oh now - see this? Another car has materialized!
Wagner: Hopefully no more nymphs in oversized apparel..
Mozart(grins): I'm not opposed to that, really..
(At the front door Wagner gives a mighty knock. He stands back, head tilted high, adjusts his beret. Mozart seems interested in the landscaping..)
Mozart: Do you suppose he hires someone to take care of the lawn?
Wagner: Wolfgang, might you concentrate on the task at hand?
Mozart: I'm not sure that staring expectantly at the door is going to make him open it any faster... But if you insist. (throws his shouders back, puts one foot forward as if a Greek statue, then promptly turns his head and stares dramatically into the neighbor's yard)
Wagner(sighs): Stop that nonsense. Suppose he answers with you standing there like some second-rate violinist posing for a publicity shot!
Mozart: Oh, is that it? and here I was thinking I was posing like a second-rate composer with an overblown opinion of himself..
(Wagner pounds his fist on the door.
Nothing.)
Wagner: How dare he leave us standing out here!
Mozart: Perhaps he didn't hear you knock.
Wagner: Perhaps you should investigate then!
Mozart: All right. I'll take a peek. (sneaks past the azalea to the front window; looks in) nope, no one there... Maybe around back.
Wagner: I'll wait here in the strange case that he answers the door.
(Not a minute before he has disappeared around the side of the house, Mozart appears again, gesturing to Wagner that he should come too. Wagner follows him, but is surprised to find himself standing behind a row of bushes.)
Wagner: What is the meaning of this, Wolf--
Mozart: Shh! he's on the back porch talking to someone... listen! (they creep closer and peek through one of the shrubs.
Mahler is pacing back and forth in the grass, brow furrowed, bent forward, hands clasped behind his back. He looks like the Thinker having a bad hair day (and very agitated about it). In one of his porch chairs sits a youngish fellow with a curly mustache.)
Mahler: Richard, you can't expect me to put that on in front of all the respectable opera-goers of the older generation!
Wagner(offended): His name is Richard!
Mozart(snickers): It's not exactly an obscure name.
Richard: Oh come, Gustav - it's perfectly innocent!
Mahler: "Innocent"! She makes out with his severed head! what- (he is interrupted by the other's laughter)
Richard: hahah - ohhh, that's nothing, you should have seen the libretto I was thinking about!
Mahler: NOT ACCEPTABLE.
Richard: But you're not really serious, are you?
Mahler(turns to him, eyes afire): I am not putting on any of your immoral operas! They are looking for excuses to fire me, and I don't need to hand them any.
Richard: That's not true, Gustav. You know they just complain for the sake of complaining - if you don't give them one reason, they'll find another. Besides, they can't fire you, you are too good. Why do you think I am coming to you for--
Mahler: Because I'm the only one within fifty miles who would even consider putting on suc--
Richard: No! Because you're the best!
Mahler: It doesn't hurt that I'm one of your good friends....
Richard: hah! No one would ever know the way you go on! (pause; he smirks appeasingly) come on, you secretly want the challenge.
Mahler(puffs): Ohh..
Richard: And we know you are not afraid of a scandal or two yourself.
Mahler: That is not because I willingly walk into them -
Richard(grins): Oh, that's not what I hear..
Mahler(severely): This is not about me. This is about your opera.
Richard: ahahah - No, it IS about you - about you pretending to be too moral to put on my opera. But you have to see that sex and death are nothing unusual --
Mahler: Yes, but usually the sex comes BEFORE the death!
Mozart: ahahahah (covers mouth)
Wagner: What is this opera?
Mozart: ahh. hah - I bet its the one I saw on his piano.. very chromatic and silly, you'd probably like it..
Wagner: "Silly".......!
Richard: oh come on, Gustav - don't make me beg.. the music is good...
Mahler: well.. ye --although I'm not particularly pleased with the "arguing jews"...!
Mozart: oh Richard, you'd better not even talk to this one! (Wagner smirks)
Richard: Heh heh.. You must accept that as a musical portrayal of "argument" not "Jewishness"... (Mahler does not look completely convinced, but his frown lessens) and the love music - the lust music, rather - that's very good.. content aside, it is a good opera - and you know it..
Mahler(irritably): all right, all right. I'll see what I can do. I'm such a pushover!
Richard: "pushover!" I am ready to fall on one knee!
Mahler(pointing finger): You owe me!
Richard: My eternal soul - I know!
Mahler: (sniffs smartly, marches toward back door) I'd better get to work then; I'm very busy these days. You know the way out - I appreciate your company as always, Richard....
Richard: Ahhh, with such friends... (but he leaves grinning. Mozart and Wagner remain hidden in the bushes for a moment.)
Wagner: Well... this bodes ill for us, Wolfgang, if this is how he treats his 'close friends.'
Mozart: Ah, well perhaps you have to worry more.. I have no death in my operas.. Plenty of sex, though.. (grins)
Wagner: Perhaps we should wait another day to advance the culmination of our genius with him..
(back door slams; they both flinch)
Mozart: Actually, yes.. I think that would be wise...
Back at the house, other composers have finally noticed the... odd smell. Cut to Robert Schumann following his nose from the piano room into the hallway.
Schumann: Ah... gentlemen... (sniff sniff) a mystery presents itself.. A mystery of some... scatalogical import? (sniffs at the flower arrangement on the hall table) hm.. (sniffs again, waiting to pick up a trace of the offending scent) Ah! (towards the den end of the hallway) Now.. what do you suppose (sniff) is the cause of such an offense?? (sniff sniff; pause) Ah, lost again! It tempts one by its elusiveness, tendrils of odor twisting about one's nose and luring -- this way! (darts toward kitchen, sniffs in doorway) no.... THIS way? (to den doorway, again nothing) foul demon of olfactorial deception! Ach - how -- Now, now, steady yourself, man.. (pauses ponderously) Perhaps we have searched thus far too closely with our noses... to the grindstone?? (looks up suddenly at the vent above the kitchen doorway) Ah HAH! (he ducks into the kitchen and pulls out a chair)
(Strozzi then comes out of the laundry room - pauses at the sight of Robert trying to catch his balance on a kitchen chair)
Strozzi: Robert... what are you doing?
Schumann: What am I doing, madam? Hunting!
Strozzi: ... hunting? For what?
Schumann: Neither quail nor pheasant, but rather the most elusive and formless bird -- a scent!
Strozzi: Scent.. (sniffs) I don't sm.. (sniffs again) OH... ew, what is that?
Schumann: Neither quail nor pheasant.. (sniffs at vent above door - snorts suddenly) Agh - ah, they've big TEETH, the dust bunnies (coughs) But no offensive odor.. (steps down again as Strozzi wanders about the hall and foyer trying to find the source)
Strozzi: It's so faint - yet... pervasive.. Where??? something's gone bad... (sniffs at the flower arrangement)
Schumann: no, my dear lady, I've searched the lonely flowers; they've no company of that sort..
Strozzi: Maybe it's just... some remnant of the trash ? Let's get some air through here and see if it doesn't go away on its own.. (They open the back and front doors, creating an air tunnel; the breeze whips through and shakes the flowers. Enter Liszt through open front door)
Liszt: Ah, opening the door for me? You're too kind (winks at Strozzi)
Schumann(frowns): Here is Mr. Liszt, who's a nose for trouble.. And we have plentiful trouble here; perhaps he can elucidate the source of it with his singular proboscis! (disappears into the den)
Liszt(sigh): I haven't decided yet which fantasy land Robert is living in... I've ruled out Middle Earth..
Strozzi: What do you suppose is his reason for always being so... ungenerous towards you?
Liszt: I'm afraid we don't agree on matters of Art... (closes door) drafty!
Strozzi: No - keep it open, we are trying to get rid of the smell.
Liszt: Oh, is that the trouble?
Strozzi: .... yes.
Liszt: I wonder if it doesn't have anything to do with our drunks coming home so late?? Let's invesigate their lair..
Strozzi: We're hoping it will go away on its own.. (nods at open door)
Liszt: Ah, right - A late lunch is a good idea! (exeunt to kitchen)
Soon Mozart and Wagner return to the house, having failed in their Mahler Mission.
Wagner: Now who's left the door open again!? Do they want my important papers to be blowing all about the house? (pulls it - but the wind slams it shut behind him. Mussorgsky promptly appears in the TV room doorway)
Mussorgsky: Now now whats all this opening and closing of doors! I'm trying to concentrate in here-
Mozart: On what - Golden Girls?
Mussorgsky: Matlock.
Wagner(to Muss): Perhaps YOU should go talk to Mr. Mahler.
Strozzi(yells from kitchen): KEEP THE DOOR OPEN! WE ARE TRYING TO DISPERSE THE SMELL! !
Mozart(chuckles guiltily; opens door): OK!
(Wagner's beret blows off in the draft, but he snatches it midair)
Wagner: GOD--
Mussorgsky: Didnt your talkwith him go well?
Mozart: Oh, we didn't get to talk to him. He was too busy yelling at someone else's opera plans -
Wagner(clasps beret to head): Someone named Richard, no less.
Mussorgsky: well i could talk to him but i dont have any operas ready-- (the sound of a slamming door catches their attention - they glance through the doorway in time to see Mahler jumping into his car and zooming off.)
Mussorgsky: i wonder how many speeding tickets he has...
Mozart: hah, it somehow seems necessary that his car -- ahem, I should say Mercedes - goes from 0-60 in about 2 seconds..
Wagner: Extravagance. I'm getting lunch! (marches to kitchen)
Later we see Hildegard going to the backyard to find Brahms and Beethoven. They are both napping in the grass, snoring, stretched out in the soft afternoon sunlight-
Hildegard: The very picture of sloth and inactivity! (Brahms stirs with a grumble) I don't see how you can complain-
Brahms(sits up, stretches): If I were left to sleep in peace I wouldn't be able to complain!
Beethoven: (continues snoring)
Hildegard: Do you ever get anything constructive done around here?
Brahms: I wrote two fughettas and finished a string quartet this morning, thank you very much. How much have YOU composed today!?
Hildegard(is appeased, sits Indian-style in the grass next to him): I came out to warn you two about tomorrow's action plan.
(Beethoven opens an eye, but remains unnoticed)
Hildegard: It has to do with helping Modest..
Beethoven(sits up): oh how are you helping him this time?
Hildegard: We have called in ... an elite squad of experts who specialize in dealing with people in his condition.
(The two B's frown)
Beethoven: You mean AA?
Hildegard: It sounds so less dramatic that way.
Brahms: I thought she was talking about SVU.
Beethoven(to Hildegard): And you are telling us why?
Hildegard: I want you to be forewarned: dont be alarmed when people show up tomorrow.
Beethoven: ...what if we want Modest to be forewarned?
Hildegard: that would defeat the purpose.
Brahms: Exactly.
Hildegard(eyes narrow): I hope you wouldn't hurt your fellow housemate just on my account.
Brahms: I dont see why you're on such a crusade to "save him" its not as if he has any will to be a good composer anyway..
Hildegard: What!-
Beethoven: how diplomatic of you, Johannes.
Brahms: Learned from the best. (Beethoven smirks, but rolls back over and stretches out comfortably)
Beethoven: Ok. I'm officially forewarned. Let me nap. I'm tired
Hildegard: What for - you haven't even moved from the lawn since I saw you this morning!
(Pause as Beethoven does not deign to answer)
Brahms: He was up all night writing, he says. (pouts) but he won't show me what he wrote.
Hildegard: he doesn't have to - now just stay outside as usual and you'll be fine tomorrow. (rises) I must leave you now.. I sense there is some disturbance in the house.
(Hildegard heads inside, where the strange smell has attracted the attention of Tchaikovsky and Mussorgsky now; the two are searching the hallway when Hildegard arrives... before she can say a word, Schumann returns from the den)
Schumann: Alas, gentlemen, the perpetrator will not reveal itself!!
Tchaik: we need to find it, guys!
Mussorgsky: yeah before mypeople come tomorrow at least (Tchaik stops searching through the closet and turns to Muss) Tchaik: Oh - more poet friends, eh?
Mussorgsky: nah womens club
(Hildegard, at the other end of the hall, has only overheard "people come tomorrow" from Mussorgsky, and she assumes he's been told - but by whom? only... Liszt... LISZT? Robert knows too - she turns to Schumann, who is now trying to pry one of the baseboards off the wall along the kitchen doorway.)
Hildegard: Robert!
Schumann: Hm?? smell you that, madam?
Hildegard(temporarily thrown off - sniffs): oh - ah, thats what I thought.. Ok.. (turns to face kitchen, shoulders back, eyes narrowed with purpose) Before I interrogate anyone, we must do away with that smell. It's in HERE! (marches into kitchen; Schumann leaves the baseboard and follows, gesturing to the two Russians that they should do the same)
Tchaik: I don't know what's going on in this house anymore - I need to spend more time outside and not worrying about it
Mussorgsky: theres room in the backyard
Tchaik: No, I appreciate the outdoors, but my idea of communing with nature is not lying in the grass letting the bugs crawl all over me (shudders) I'd rather commune with nature through the clear glass walls of the coffee shop.. I meant I need to go OUT more.
Mussorgsky: ohwell.. i wouldnt know anything about that
Tchaik(laughs): Sure..
(Enter Bach, Ives, and Zacara, chattering loudly like a band of squirrels)
Zacara: I'm going to QUIT, damn it!
Bach: I'm quitting too. I'm seriously switching jobs - I -
Ives: You two need to get real jobs. Man's Work! -(Ives stops dead when the smell hits him --) what in the world is THAT? (sniffs) what is going on???
Tchaik: Hi guys - we're trying to find out where the smell is coming from.
Mussorgsky(heads back into TV room, muttering): too many cooks...
Zacara: Not the bathroom? hah. I don't care. maybe we should use the grill tonight -
Bach: Ahhhhh, I could go for that. (they descend upon the kitchen, where Hildegard is standing with eyes shut and arms held out as if trying to levitate..) Hildegard, what's going on?
Hildegard: I'm about to find the source of the unpleasant smell -
Zacara(smirks): It seems like its coming from THIS bag. (reaches under table - produces a large Hecht's bag with a couple of 2-liter coke bottles)
Schumann(backs against the far wall): careful, man!!
Zacara(emptying contents of bag on table): some coke... a sprite.. what - (pulls out an oblong object wrapped in cellophane. he stares in fascination at the vague gray color).. what..... .. what IS this? (sniffs - pulls back quickly) Yes, that's the source... but...
Schumann: Don't open it!
Bach: hah, no one knows...
Hildegard: ....
Ives: Oh for God's sake, man. It's not going to kill you -it's just... (frowns) hem...
Zacara(pushes it towards his face): Yes, Charles - what IS it? Do enlighten us.
Ives(takes the object): Something... with mold.... (stares, unable to put it down) but..
Schumann: DONT LOOK DIRECTLY AT IT!!
(Enter Tchaik and Liszt)
Liszt: What's going on in here - oh, did you find it?
Ives(eyes wide, holding out the object for Liszt to see): I have no idea what this is!
Hildegard: can you guys play detective outside?? it's still stinking up the place, you know..
Liszt(takes the thing): wow.. I really.. have no idea..... (suddenly drops it in recognition)-- Oh Dear God -
Tchaik: What???
Liszt: (starts to laugh) Oh... hahahah God help us-
Ives: What is it?
Liszt: It's the remainder of a loaf of French bread!!
(The object seems to take form now - they recognize the outline of about half a loaf of what used to be the bread; its color is still off-putting, as it's been entirely taken over by white, gray and orange mold..)
Tchaik(hands to mouth): DISGUSTING --
Schumann: The French infiltration continues!! we have been sabotaged! the Apocalpyse indeed!
Bach: take the trash out NOW! (goes to freezer and begins rummaging for meat; Schumann takes up the garbage bag from under the sink - cautiously approaches the moldy bread..)
Schumann: Step aside, good colleagues - this calls for sleight of hand unheeded by idle onlookers - (he crouches next to the bread, like a cat about to pounce --) softly now.... softly..... (suddenly he seizes it, dumps it in the bag and dashes out - all in one blur of spastic motion)
Zacara: Good. Let's eat.
Bach(trayful of hamburger): Get the fixings. I'm going to fire up the grill.
Ives: Excellent.
(bustle resumes about the kitchen)
Hildegard: All you men ever worry about is eating. Don't they feed you at work??
Zacara: We're not talking about work now. It's 5:45.
As Schumann runs with the kitchen garbage bag and the outdoor trashcan to the front curb, Mahler drives up and parks in his driveway. He immediately notices Schumann's wild actions - pauses, squints at his neighbor. Schumann dumps the bag into the can and slams down the green lid with the flourish of a percussionist ending a Tchaikovsky symphony.)
Schumann: HAH - Defeat - O sweet Defeat, you crafty French devils! (stands back, arms folded in satisfaction -- then he realizes he is being watched; lifts an arm in salute) HALLO there, Neighbor!
Mahler: Hi.. (closes car door, which he had been about to do 2 minutes earlier, walks down to curb so he doesnt have to yell) Does the trash come tonight? I thought it was only Wednesday tonight-
Schumann: It matters not. The offensive loaf is contained now. (pats the lid proudly)
Mahler: .. nothing radioactive, I hope..
Schumann: No! not yet, at least (dashes across street before Mahler has time to react - he whispers) But I dare say it would have come to that had we not taken immediate action! Mold is a cunning seducer.
Mahler(realizes what he's talking about): oh! hahah.. that's .. one way of looking at it. Do you live there - with.. are you one of the composers?
Schumann: Indeed. I am called Robert. And sometimes Crazy. Who are you?
Mahler: Gustav (they shake) I'm a composer myself -
Schumann: Oh! Nothing of the lawn gnome variety --??!
Mahler: Lawn gnomes...? (smirks - then adds conspiratorially) -only if they were really grotesque..
Schumann(nods): We must talk, friend.
Mahler: well, feel free to come in - i was just going to find something to eat..
(Suddenly a shrill voice rings out from next door)
Voice: GUSTAV!
Mahler(reflexively ducks) Oh - Mrs. Hickman.. damn
Schumann: What now?
Mahler: She is a regular busybody.. always interrogating about my landscaping.
MrsHickman(from next yard): You MUST tell me where you get those SPLENDID BEGONIAS!
Mahler: WALMART, My dear lady! Must run - do excuse me! (drags Schumann inside)