Operatic Developments
Saturday, mid afternoon.. things have calmed down somewhat after the disastrous AA-womens club encounter on Thursday. In the piano room, Ives is trying to explain one of his new pieces to Liszt and Zacara. They sit patiently on the sofa while Ives starts to play through a song, general cacophony ensuing. He finishes and turns to them proudly.
Liszt(trying to smile nicely): Ah... that's very interesting Charles..
Zacara: That's one way of putting it.
Ives: What do you mean "INTERESTING"?
Liszt: Well... there's a lot in that song... to think about.. Although I'm not sure I could ever... produce such a work.
Ives: I suppose not!
Liszt: My fans have much more delicate ears.
Zacara: (snickers)
Ives: That's your problem, you two - gotta use your ears like MEN!!
Liszt: Music is not a manly art.
Ives: It should be! If you'd just write REAL music--
Zacara: Hey I just write what I'm asked to - (snickers) most of the time...
(the other two turn to him in surprise)
Liszt: Wait - you get commissions?
Ives: Just what kind of job do you have, Antonio!?
Zacara: oh you wouldn't be interested... doesn't require Manly music.. (saunters out, chuckling knowingly)
Ives: What in the world?! I thought he worked at some .... law firm ? or.. wait a minute, where does he work?!
Liszt: Barbara theorizes that he works for the Italian mafia.
Ives: So what - they commission music for weddings?
Liszt(laughs): Apparently so!
Ives: I think we should investigate further.
Liszt: Well I suppose if he starts quoting the Godfather, we'll know...
Later afternoon:
Beethoven is curled up on the window sill in one of the bedrooms, trying to draft a letter in peace. Alas, he has been found - but he is too absorbed in his thoughts to notice the none-too-delicate footsteps of Brahms who now appears in the doorway, scowling, hands on hips like some angry lover.
Brahms: What are you doing!?
(Beethoven is startled; he drops his notebook then hastily grabs it back up, sits on it, attempts to look nonchalant.)
Beethoven: what?
Brahms: What's the matter with you! hiding inside on a day like this - you've been dark and secretive lately. Something is wrong. Obviously a woman is involved.
Beethoven(given up pretences of innocence): ohh what do you know about women!?
Brahms: more than you!
Beethoven: No!
(They glare at each other.)
Brahms: They are good for nothing - suck up your time, distract you from work!
Beethoven: you know NOTHING -- Love is a glorious thing!
Brahms: You are already sitting in some dark, cobwebbed room rather than out in the brilliant sunlight because of some woman and you tell me this is a good thing?!
Beethoven: I'm staying inside because of my nosy housemates, not her!
Brahms(exasperated sigh): So says the man with a bunion: "I dont walk on it because of the pain" -- NOT because of the deformity that causes the pain!
(Mozart peeks around the corner, wearing the smirk of a person who is trying desperately not to burst out laughing. Beethoven spots him behind Brahms.)
Beethoven: Don't even THINK about joining this conversation, Wolfgang Amadeus.
Mozart: How can I not?? Only Johannes would even conceive of comparing women to foot deformities.. hahaha!
Brahms(grumbling to self): ...like a disease....fungal growths..
Beethoven: What! How DARE you talk about the fair sex in such a way - I won't hear it! (hurls his notebook at Brahms, then jumps up, grabs it off the floor again and storms out)
Mozart: heh. He's really fallen head over heels, hasn't he?
Brahms: (unintelligible grumble)
Mozart(still chuckling): And he only goes out once a month and he still manages to meet one - talk about luck of the damned!
Brahms: (shakes head)
Mozart: I think you acted in the right spirit, though, Johannes. (Brahms can't tell if he's being serious or not) We should nag and heckle him about the silly affair until he either runs away with her or tells her the whole thing's off! -- I would greatly prefer the second of these, of course. Without our Ludwig around, whom would Richard cower before??
(Brahms doesn't answer, but notices a torn and folded piece of paper that has fallen out of Beethoven's notebook; he picks it up.)
Mozart: uh oh - incriminating evidence? Open it!
(they look over the paper, which is not a letter, but rather a series of proposed endearments)
Mozart: "Dear Angel" - hah "Light of my life" What a hopeless Romantic! Look, there's no actual name on here. I wonder if he even knows her name. Who could this lady be? Not another Marissa, I should think... (chuckles)
Brahms(hands back paper dismissively): Probably not. (starts to go, but Mozart calls him back) What?
Mozart(holds up paper): Why don't we hang this up on the refrigerator? You know, get the other philanthropists involved. Can't you just see Pyotr trying to give him hair and grooming advice?
Brahms(grimaces): That's a little harsh, don't you think?
Mozart(grins): Just wanted to see how angry you really were.
Brahms: It's his problem. (stalks out)
Mozart(sighs, amused; glances out window): Oh! but soft --- MAHLER is home - and gardening! (squints) And ALONE! Ludwig left his luck of the damned here with me, I see.. Let's accost him! (takes one of his complete opera manuscripts from his sock drawer, goes into the hallway. He doesn't get far, though, since he meets Robert Schumann, who is having a conversation with -- well, no one is to be seen. This makes Mozart pause.)
Schumann: I think that is SOUND advice, yes. The Philistines will never know what--(notices Mozart; stops abruptly.)
Mozart: .... Robert, who are you talking to?
Schumann: No one you've met, I'm afraid. Why do you pause - where were you going?
Mozart(brightens): To see the neighbor finally! He's home!
Schumann: No, leave that type to me and Hannes. We are in the midst of planning the counterattack..
Mozart: No, not the lawn gnome people -(catches himself): hah, now you've got me calling them that. I mean the one across the street (tilts his head in the proper direction). You know, Mahler!
Schumann: Ah hah - good Gustav! Do tell him that Florestan sends his greetings and tells him that soon -- (lowers voice) soon the Autumn Dove roosts in the Tea pot.
Mozart: .... why does this sound suspiciously like plans of world domination? --and more important, how are you on a first name basis and plotting with him? What is this chicanery! (catches himself again, laughs) oh no, I have been spending too much time talking to Richard... it's on account of this fool neighbor too.
Schumann: I had the good fortune to meet our neighbor no less than THREE days ago. He is wise in the ways of synthetic statuary. (Mozart starts to laugh again)
Mozart: bad mental image, Robert!
Schumann: Go speak with him. Get him before Richard does. One piece of advice before you leave: Do not question the guardians of his mailbox. There, you have my blessing: Go. (glides serenely down the hall)
Mozart: Good, good... Robert's blessing -- that must be worth something.
So he continues on his way, jogs merrily down the stairs -- freezes when he sees Wagner at the end of the hallway standing before the front door, Mozart's destination. He curses to himself. Luckily, Wagner is talking to Zacara and does not notice Mozart with his suspicious opera manuscript under one arm.
Wagner: We told the fool weeks ago!
Zacara: I'm never home to reinforce these things. YOU should do that! Besides, I don't want to get him angry at me.. he picks up my mail every day...
Wagner: Whatever that may contain... mafia newsletters.. (Zacara only grins; Wagner glances into tv room) Now look, the fool isn't even in there!
(Meanwhile Mozart tries to sneak down the other end of the hall and out the back door - but Liszt comes out of the laundry room and Mozart has to dive into the kitchen to avoid being seen. Bach, Ives, and Tchaikovsky are playing three-handed Hearts at the table.)
Bach: Hi Wolfy.
Mozart: What is this sloth and inefficiency? You'd think it were a weekend around here!
Tchaik: Thank God! (looks at cards on table) Wait, who led that 6?
Ives: The card on the bottom is the first one played. See how the second card falls over it?
Tchaik: oh shut up, I've had a rough week.
Bach: You're always having a rough week. At least you're not going to court for disturbing the peace. Geyersbach threatened that I will have to pay all the damages... better not..I flat out refuse to buy that damned restaurant a new cruet - if they'd had a knife on the table like they should have, I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!
Mozart; haha - no, you'd be on trial for murder!
Bach: A worthier cause! -- (notices the cards that have been played) oh for God's sake, Pyotr! Charles is low man, no need to give ME the queen of spades!
Tchaik: I didn't want it myself!!
Liszt(calls from hallway) : Are you playing hearts again!
(Mozart is alarmed, as it sounds like Liszt is approaching the kitchen - he hastily stuffs his opera into the microwave and closes the door just in time for Liszt's entrance.)
Liszt: Hello, what's all the trouble this time?
Tchaikovsky: No one likes my strategy.
Bach(scoffs): What strategy?
Tchaikovsky: It's very simple: Better you than me.
Ives: Go, JS, it's your play.
(Liszt sighs and opens the refrigerator; pulls out a tupperware with undefinable contents. Mozart watches in alarm as he brings it over to the microwave)
Liszt: Hi Wolfy, I need the microwave.
Mozart(stands protectively before it): I'm using it right now.
Liszt: It's not on, you realize.
Mozart: Yes, I'm just letting it cool down.. too hot to handle right now.
Liszt: That's what the hot pads are for-
Mozart(eyes go wide, hands fly to mouth as if in sudden realization of unspeakable horror): oh my God--
Liszt: What??
Mozart(whispers): You're not.... doing your laundry now, are you, Franz?
Liszt(alarmed): Actually, yes, I am.... Is that a problem??
Mozart(measured intake of breath): You're not supposed to be.. Did you notice.. (looks at card table: they're not paying attention): Did you notice anything... suspicious about the detergent??
Liszt: ..... what did you do????
Mozart: I dont know if... the person who was supposed to use it.. ohhhh, I hope this won't befall you, Franz--
Liszt: WHAT-
Mozart(breathless sincerity): youd better go check right away--
Bach: What's going on over - (he falls silent as Liszt runs out) ....what are you on about??
Mozart: heheheh (retrieves opera manuscript from microwave, tiptoes to doorway, peeks out) just a little scare, but he'll be happy to find there's nothing in the detergent... or the microwave... Good. (sneaks out)
Ives: These people need jobs.
Of course Wagner and Zacara are still talking in the hallway directly in front of the door. In his haste, Liszt has flung open the laundry room door, and now it's effectively blocking the opposite end of the hallway. Mozart's only option is to sneak across the hall into the den, where Strozzi and Hildegard are sitting on the couch talking.
Hildegard: I'm quite ashamed of myself. (shakes head) what a gross misjudgment-
Mozart: Ah, too bad I'm in a rush, or I'd stay to hear the rest of this!
Hildegard: Are you sneaking around again!?
Mozart: shh (creeps to window, peers through it appraisingly) I am only trying to get out of the house - but everywhere I look, there's someone in my way!
Strozzi: Sneaking around with a manuscript underarm, trying not to be seen... suspicious indeed. Gustav must be home.
Mozart(grins at her): Yes. And Richard doesn't know -- although he's gardening in plain sight in the front yard.
Strozzi(mischievously): Maybe I'll have to come with you, Wolfgang, and seduce from him the secret of where he gets his infamous begonias..
Hildegard: agh, I don't want to hear anything about begonias, or alcohol, or tea...
Mozart(to Strozzi): You would succeed, and that's why you can't come. You'll distract him from my opera. (looks out window again) Ok, no bohemians.. (suddenly tugs window open and starts climbing out, which is somewhat difficult given the 400-page book in one arm.)
Hildegard: What are you doing NOW?!
Mozart(half out window): trying..to get ..across the street!
Hildegard: Across the street is in that direction (points imperiously towards front of house)
Mozart: Yes, but so is Richard-- agohff! (falls out with a thud)
Strozzi: ah hahah.. never a dull moment!
Hildegard: You have to seek those out through meditation - it's the only way...
(Liszt appears in the doorway; waits for the women to acknowledge him)
Liszt: Hello. Have you seen Wolfgang?
(They aren't sure how to answer.)
Strozzi: ... Is something wrong?
Liszt(confused): Not... no.. I just wanted to ask him what the laundry detergent is supposed to look like.. (wanders off)
Strozzi(starts to laugh again): I don't even want to know...
Hildegard: I don't either...
Outside, Mozart does not even have time to stand up before he is accosted by Brahms - Brahms who still appears to be in a grumpier-than-normal mood.
Brahms: What are you doing? (picks up the gigantic manuscript, begins leafing through) What's this?
Mozart(stands and dusts himself off, answers cheerfully): Oh, nothing you would understand. It's an opera. About people being In Love.
Brahms(smirks): It's about a whorehouse. In TURKEY.
Mozart: semantics...
Brahms(has to laugh in spite of himself): only you, Wolfgang. (hands back the book) I suppose this means the legendary Mahler is home..?
Mozart(starts walking around house; Brahms trails along): I don't know - he may not be home by the time I get to the damned front yard! I have run into every housemate except Modest (knocks on a tree trunk as he passes it), and Richard's guarding the front door -- (pauses as they have come around to the front of the yard) Ah, he's still there!
Brahms: Well go to it. (starts to leave)
Mozart: Wait, you understand Robert-speak. He gave me some cryptic advice when I ran into him; he said "Do not question the guardians of his mailbox." What do you suppose that means?
Brahms: I thought you liked riddles..
Mozart: This is not the quest for the Holy Grail!
Brahms: WHAT - is your favorite color?
Mozart: damn! hahah - (spies mailbox) Red for begonias!
Brahms: Correct, now get out of here. (turns and heads to the back yard)
Mozart marches triumphantly through their front yard (around the numerous cars) and across the street towards Mahler, who is gardening along the house, kneeling with his back to the road. Mozart glances down at the begonias around the mailbox as he happens by...
Mozart: Wait.... aren't begonias... shade-loving plants?? (stops and considers the situation) FULL sunlight!
(Mahler turns around, alarmed.)
Mahler(mutters): oh no... another gardening enthusiast!
Mozart: Hello, neighbor! I was just - (dont mention the begonias!) Just wondering if you had any time to read through an opera.
Mahler: Not really, no.
Mozart(not at all deterred, walks up cheerfully): I thought you liked operas.
Mahler: Well I do. (adjusts glasses, looks up at him) who are you?
Mozart: Wolfgang Mozart (shakes his hand.) One of those composers who lives across the street.
Mahler: ... how many composers live in that house?
Mozart(sits in grass next to him): I'm not sure. We're never in the same place at the same time. But who's counting? -- I'm the best one anyway. Now then (puts opera manuscript between them) Barbara said you were a very nice person.
Mahler: oh, she did? How is she?
Mozart: She's fine; she says hello - mentioned something about begonias, but (notices Mahler's change in expression) -some joke I believe - but you'd have to ask her.. but I had no questions about flowers, but rather (puts his hands on the manuscript) a question about -- (is interrupted by the slam of a door. Back at the house, Wagner comes striding down the front walkway, a gigantic tome in his hands; Mozart can only stare..)
Wagner(calls from street): Hail, good neighbor, you're home!!
Mahler: Is that... another opera?!
Mozart(clenched teeth): ... yesss..
(They watch, frozen in place waiting for Wagner's arrival like peasants resigned to the coming apocalypse. Wagner stops before them and lets the tome fall at Mahler's knees; it hits the grass with a heavy, dull thud, dwarfing Mozart's manuscript.)
Mahler(stares at it): Is that an opera or an unabridged dictionary?
Wagner: An opera, indeed. But no simple pastiche or buffa opera - A profound, pathbreaking work on the agony and ectasy of sensual forbidden Love, set against the backdrop of an international rivalry in the dark times of the Minnesingers: a poetic musical drama about the consequences of irresistible passion - a sweeping, tragic tour de force - (gestures to it triumphantly) TRISTAN UND ISOLDE!
(Grand Pause.)
Mahler(hops up; shakes Wagner's hand effusively): Gustav Mahler - nice to meet you - you are?
Wagner: Richard Wagner, Composer.
Mahler: Let's talk. (points at manuscript) Bring that in. And you, Wolfgang, come
let's see what you've got. (heads into house without waiting) There's a piano in here!
(The other two are left in the yard holding their operas.)
Mozart: Well! That's an auspicious start; just as I said: you do the talking, I do the thinking.
Wagner: Hm, we'll see about that. Let's go. (exeunt)
Later at the house, we find Strozzi and Hildegard still talking in the den.
Hildegard: Ah, yoga is the perfect companion to meditation-
Strozzi: Actually, I was thinking about taking a class at the gym.
Hildegard: Gym? why?
Strozzi: Get out in the world. mingle with People, that sort of thing.
Hildegard: Oh.. (trails off again; they sit in ponderous silence for a few minutes)..... I should really talk to Modest.
Strozzi(cunningly): I know, it's bothering you as if you cared..
Hildegard: well - can't have these bad feelings in the house...
Strozzi: mm hm. you'd better go find him.
(Enter Zacara)
Zacara: Hello ladies, have you seen Modest?
Hildegard: We were just going to look for him.
Zacara: He has some nerve disappearing like this - the entire order of the house falls apart when he's not planted in front of the TV!
Hildegard: Everything is upside-down today. Modest missing - Franz is wandering around looking for Wolfgang to ask about laundry detergent! (Zacara starts to laugh) Ludwig is all out of sorts--
Strozzi(sagely): --Although that's not Modest's fault.
Zacara: Oh? Don't tell me he's met someone.
Strozzi: So it seems..
Zacara(crosses himself): that's one fallout I wont want to be around for.
Hildegard: You have no faith in him. How do you assume it won't work out?
Zacara(shrug): I'm an optimist. Now let's look for Modest. He's not in the house.
Hildegard: Let's look for his car then.
Zacara: Ok. (They continue out to the front yard. There's a good 8 cars in the driveway/lawn. Pause as they consider the mess.)
Strozzi: Our front yard is such an eyesore..
Zacara: Nah, it's full of character.
Strozzi: It's full of old cars!
Zacara: yeah, that too. Which one's Modest's?
(pause)
Strozzi: er... I don't know.
Hildegard: Oh surely this isn't so difficult. (walks around the cars, pausing at each one, hand to driver's side window. She reaches an old gray Honda finally) Definitely this one.
Zacara: How so?
Hildegard: The window's open, and it smells of alcohol!
Strozzi: Then he's home, or wandered off somewhere.
(Their collective "Hmmmm" is interrupted by raucous singing - they turn around to see Mozart and Wagner skipping down Mahler's front walkway, arm in arm - Wagner waves his beret like a victory flag.)
Zacara: What in God's name....
Strozzi: I suppose they got lucky with Gustav-
(Wagner and Mozart skip up to them, smiling jubilantly)
Hildegard: What happened?
Mozart(matter-of-factly): Well, I'm a genius.
Wagner: And so I am.
Mozart(to W): But not as much as I.
Wagner(good naturedly): oh, quatsch.
Zacara: Oh! hah, so our neighbor is appointing geniuses today..? how does he decide that? Does he have little stickers? I want one..
Hildegard: really..
Zacara: So wait - does this mean he really intends to put on a Mozart opera and a Wagner musikdrama in the same season?
Mozart: It does! I think he mentioned something about cutting out some French nonsense--
Wagner: Nonsense indeed.
Mozart: Stupid French (suddenly) You know we should have a celebratory cookout!
Wagner: Excellent idea - JS is home, and this will give him something to do.
(Mozart starts toward the house, but walks right into the side mirror on Mussorgsky's car and knocks it off)
Mozart: ow, shit -- hah, whose car is this?? (picks up mirror, throws it onto seat)
Hildegard: It's Modest's. Can't you tell from the smell of alcohol?
Mozart(appraisingly): We should totally pimp this ride.
Wagner: Verily, this prodigious eyesore could certainly stand for some refurbishing.
Mozart: But first food.
(They continue into the house, congratulating themselves)
Cookout in full swing, Beethoven has taken drastic measures to get some peace and quiet. He has found a comfortable spot in the bushes along the side of the house near Schubert's yard. But now that his letter is done, he has to take it to the mailbox, deposit it, and creep back without being noticed. He peeks around the side of the house.. the coast is clear - he makes a mad dash for the box, but is horrified to find it STILL FULL! letters drop out as he opens it, as it is pitifully small to hold the mail of 13 people.
Beethoven: What the...... gr... wheres Modest...! (he takes the mail out, dumps it on their front porch-- but he freezes - was that a sound from an open window? he dives behind an oak tree..... nothing) ....damn housemates.. (he continues to the mailbox, puts his own letter in and puts the red flag up - no, wait.. best to leave that down. No point in drawing attention to it. Satisfied, he creeps back to his side of the house. He is too absorbed in his thoughts to notice footsteps; after all, he hasn't composed much today. Time to get back to that stri-- BOOOF - he collides with someone)
Mussorgsky: Watch where youregoing!!
Beethoven: what!! What are you doing sneaking around out here?
Mussorgsky: just trying to get a little peace and quiet!
Beethoven: Thats what I want!
Mussorgsky: well... i might want to steal some food first (sniffs at the tempting scent of grilled hamburger)
Beethoven: shouldnt you be drunk on the sofa?
Mussorgsky: Im not drunk all the time!
Beethoven: well you were pretty drunk the other night.
Mussorgsky: Ok i will allow that i was pretty far along on the Sober-Drunk Continuum.
Beethoven: you were speaking French
Mussorgsky: thats usually a good indication
Beethoven: But you need alcohol to function. Its like your coffee in the morning.
Mussorgsky: Im not an alcoholic Im RUSSIAN.
Beethoven: ok. i guess you have enough persecution. (sigh) wish theyd leave me alone
Mussorgsky: oh the girl
Beethoven: damn it, how do you know about that?
Mussorgsky: I get your mail. ive seen the suspiciously frilly handwriting... although she doesnt put her name on the envelope.
Beethoven: dont be reading my mail.
Mussorgsky: ok i wont bother you about it if you dissuade the others from bothering me. Deal?
Beethoven: deal. (they shake) are you getting food?
Mussorsgky: yeah.. (wanders toward back of house, looks around corner) theyre milling around.. but the foods in the middle of the porch.. Maybe its better to go around through the house?
Beethoven: (surveys) Yes.
(as they go back to the front of the house, the two are surprised to see a gigantic truck pull up to the driveway.)
Beethoven: mm... I hope he doesn't plan to park there.
(The truck backs up then parks parallel to their lot, the name on its side now visible: Troika Home Furnishings.)
Beethoven(turns slowly to Muss): ... you wouldn't know anything about this, would you?
Mussorsgky: Ohhh its the carpet!
Beethoven: carpet?
Mussorgsky: for the basement.
Beethoven: they let you order the carpet?
Mussorgsky(shrug): I gota discount.
Beethoven: I need a hamburger right now. (starts to go)
Mussorgsky: wait lets help them get set up they can install it while everyones outside.
(Shortly thereafter, Mussorgsky and Beethoven are back on the trail of hamburgers while the carpet installation crew gets to work. Our heros stop at the back door and inspect the field.)
Beethoven: hmm...
Muss: Who are you avoiding?
Beethoven: 'hannes.. barbara.. hildegard
Muss: yeah, hildegard.. shes not at the table now.. (But Zacara and Ives are - and more worrisome, Brahms too, so when Mussorgsky goes out to steal a plate of food, Beethoven stays behind and observes.
Mussorgsky wanders to the table, making sure that between him and Hildegard there is a steady line of people. He stops at the table - its filled with plates of meat, buns, dressings, sides.. the choices are dizzying. To add to the trouble, Ives and Zacara are having a regular conversation in front of the plate of hamburgers.)
Ives: and what'd he say about that?
Zacara: He said its good work. He doesnt have any idea about the insides jokes... heh.
Ives: right and .. what do you plan to do tomorrow?
Zacara: Same old, same old..
Ives: ... such as?
Zacara: Is this an interrogation, Charles?
Ives: no, no.
(Meanwhile Brahms, hamburger on plate, is trying to get to the lettuce. He notices Mussorgsky.)
Mussorgsky: hi
Brahms: So at least you come out of hiding for the food.
Mussorgsky: yeah, well (looks around Wagner and Mozart, who are approaching table) not completely out of hiding....
Brahms: yeah.... (to Ives and Zacara) Hey, can you take the interrogation elsewhere? You're blocking all the food.
Zacara: Oh, excuse me, little miss. Where I come from you just reach obnoxiously for what you need - none of this German personal space business.
Brahms: oh, like this? (cuts between them, knocking into Zacara on the way for a piece of lettuce; Zacara stumbles back off balance)
Zacara: hey hey - club foot here club foot!
Ives: hah thats what you get!
Zacara(straightens himself out): But yes, that is the general idea.
Brahms: good . (puts lettuce on hamburger, wanders off. With Brahms away, the other two now notice Mussorgsky)
Zacara: oh hey, look who decided to show up!
Mussorgsky: shh yeah i know.. (glances over shoulder; here come Wagner and Mozart, embroiled in discussion) im just trying to get some food
(Meanwhile, unaware of Wagner and Mozart, Beethoven also sneaks out and approaches the table.)
Ives: Modest, where have you been all day? Everyone's been looking for you.
Zacara: Yeah, where's my mail?
Mussorgsky: still in the mailbox, i suppose...
Mozart: oh bright yellow - with red streaks down the side -- faded front-
Wagner: No, nonsense. Pink is-
Mozart: He doesn't like pink - (the two of them almost walk into Mussorgsky) oh here he is! Modest, we're pimping your ride.
Mussorgsky: uhh... that doesnt sound very .... legal.
Beethoven(comes up to table): Move.
Zacara: Worse than the other one!
Ives: Where've you been all day, Ludwig?
Mozart(like a kid at school): Writing love letters..
Ives: what!
Beethoven: he's being facetious.
Mussorgsky: yeah, ida seen the evidence in the mail...
Zacara: By the bye, Modest, did you ever get around to ordering that carpet for the basement?
Mussorgsky: ohh yeah, it should be coming any day now...
Wagner(notices Beethoven): The great giant comes out of hiding, I see.
Beethoven: hm. temporarily..
Mozart: Hi Modest, where have you been all day? Gustav loves our operas. You should have come along too.
Mussorgsky: ah.. (trying to back away) too many people
Ives(reaches across for relish): excuse me-
Beethoven: too many people.... (backs up - right into Hildegard and Strozzi, who have returned for seconds)
Hildegard: Oh, watch yourself, Ludwig--
Strozzi: Hi Ludwig, you know next time we have a cookout you should just bring your lady friend along (winks)
Wagner: Yes, Ludwig, what is this circulating rumour about a "lady friend"? Have you struck up some illicit affair or not?!
Hildegard: Oh, Modest - good, we need to talk. Where have you been all day??
Mussorgsky: Hickmans. (trying to leave)
Beethoven: .. not talking about -(realizes he's left his plate on the table - in his haste reaching for it, he accidently pushes it forward, and in a classic chain reaction, it knocks into the bottle of ketchup, which falls across the spoon Ives has left precariously perched on the edge of the relish bowl; its contents catapult straight into Wagner's eyes)
Wagner: What -- PPFFF!
Mozart: ah ahahaahah! what a shot!
Wagner: CHICANERY!
Hildegard: Oh let me get that, Richard (tries to napkin it off)
Wagner: Stop that -- (swats)
Hildegard: Hold still!
Ives(turns around): now what's going on?!
Zacara: Somebody quick! make a bad play on words with the relish..
Mozart: For a face that we normally relish - to be covered in relish is hellish-- (the others laugh, but Mozart continues the limerick, patting Wagner on the sholder in mock pity) the luck of our dear friend - has come to a quick end... Of every other face now is he jealoush!
Wagner: That's doesn't rhyme!
(Meanwhile Beethoven and Mussorgsky take the opportunity to exit in the commotion. But no sooner have they entered the house when they are accosted by Tchaikovsky.)
Tchaikovsky: Would you two guilty-looking gentlemen happen to know anything about the suspicious group of sweaty Russian men playing pool in our basement??
Mussorgsky: uh...
Beethoven(evenly): I don't know anything about it. (walks off)
Mussorgsky: shouldnt you be at the cookout... drunk?
Tchaik: What! I just came in to use the bathroom and I heard noise. Are these more friends of yours, Modest? I thought you had better taste in men...!
Mussorgsky(as he walks off): tellem to install the damned carpet and get it over with.
Tchaik: Why do I have to do everything around here! Wait - carpet?? CARPET!! (runs jubilantly back down to basement as Mussorgsky wanders toward the TV room)
Mussorgsky: God I need a drink..