The Aftermath
The morning after the bridge game and Twister affair sees only Bach and Zacara at the first breakfast shift. They arrive in the kitchen at the same time. Although Bach takes the closest seat.
Bach(hand to head): Ugh.
Zacara(sits at table across from him): Ugh.
(They sit in pained silence for a moment.)
Bach: ..breakfast?
Zacara: ... might 'et something later..
Bach: yea...
(After another five minutes of silence, Bach lets his head fall forward onto the table)
Bach: uagh
Zacara(with disgusted look on his face as he reaches for the phone): Oh, man, this is why I NEVER call in to work. They hired this stupid tart to answer the phone, and possibly perform other services�anyways, you can't even talk to her she's so dumb. My head hurts. I guess I'm going to have to suck it up. (starts dialing�waiting for the answer) Pronto�s�s�no�No�.NO. No, Bambi, mi dispiace ma�(rather urgently like the other party is a telemarketer that just keeps rambling) Mi dispiace ma non posso venire al lavoro oggi! no�No�NO BAMBI! (pause�) Perch�? Perch� ho un raffreddore. No, non c'� una bugia�E VERO!!! (mutters under breath) stupidissima baldracca� (Then very loudly) HO UN RAFFREDDORE!!!! (under breath again while holding his head) merda. No! non faccio malessare dopo una sbornia�CHE? Malessare, raffreddore�c'� la stessa cosa. E chi se ne frega? CHE? (under breath again) zoccora� (then loudly) Non me ne frega un cazzo!!! TI PRENDO A CALCI IN CULO!!!! (silence for a moment) Ok Bambi�ok�boom. (under breath one more time) puttana. S�non posso venire al lavoro oggi. Ho un raffreddore. Ciao Bambi�ciao. (under breath as he hangs up phone). ciabatta.
Bach(not moving): I'm glad my italian is bad
Zacara: eighhiii. (puts head down on table)
At 730 we find Tchaik, Ives, Beethoven, and Hildegard: Liszt and Strozzi, usually there, are missing in action. Tchaik is cooking at the stove, albeit none too happily..
Tchaik(groans): I have the worst hangover... stupid fruit punch.. I see Wolfgang isn't here today! he doesnt have any work to go to...!
Hildegard: your tea's done steeping, Pyotr - (brings cup to him at stove) This will help you with the hangover...
Ives: last time we let the workless Bohemians plan a drinking game on Sunday night! Franz isn't here either - or Richard! Probably doesnt want to show up to admit defeat.
Hildegard: Life is not all about competing - can't you forget about it for once??
Beethoven(to Ives): Actually, if the video evidence I amassed is any indication, the game ended in a draw.
Hildegard: That's right, Ludwig-
Ives: I was talking about the fistfight!
(Enter Brahms, hunched forward, one hand over stomach, one hand over eyes)
Brahms: ogghhhhhh (stumbles over to table)
Hildegard: oh, alcohol, the silent killer..
Beethoven(grins): Good morning, Johannes. Shouldn't you be on your second fugue already by now?
Brahms: shuddup (sits).... hangover
Beethoven: You're not hungover, you're just hungry. Here, have some fresh, steaming hot eggs. (pushes his plate in front of Brahms, who moves his hand down over his nose and mouth, shuts eyes.)
Brahms: mgrrr!!
Ives: Now that's just sadistic, Ludwig.
Beethoven: no, no, it's all in the spirit of help. He just doesn't know what's good for him.....!
Brahms(slowly looks up): If I puke im targeting you....
Beethoven(eyes narrow): I was going to offer to hold your hair..
Brahms: go ahead...
(Beethoven takes plate back.)
Tchaik: ugh - quiet, you two! I'm trying to make myself eat... cant go to work on an empty stomach. - you should have to go to work! (sits at table with plate of more steaming eggs; Brahms struggles from chair, goes and leans over sink.)
Ives: You know what they say, Johannes: Beer then Liquor - Never Sicker!
Tchaik: And how come you're not hungover?!
Ives: I can take my alcohol like a Man.
(Brahms grumbles a sentence involving multiple F-words, only one of which is 'fruit punch.' Hildegard doesn't know whom to glare at first.)
Beethoven(generally answering Brahms): true, its harder to get hungover on straight vodka.
Tchaik(morally offended): excuse me! some of us dont pride ourselves on our alcoholism! nor do you see Franz or Richard here either!
Ives: Case in point: not manly enough to show up - either from hangover or humiliation... or both..
Hildegard: Will you stop with this MANLY business?! You are INSUFFERABLE!
Brahms(covering ears) no yelling
Hildegard: You need hangover tea as well. (hops up from chair, pauses at counter to tower over Brahms, who is rather hunched) Not that you deserve any, but I suppose that's the point of charity... (muttering to self) I ought to just move into a convent or something - not have to deal with you male morons..!
Brahms: yes you should-
Tchaik(looking better already): no! then who would save us from ourselves??
Hildegard(smirks): Thank you, Pyotr. (pulls out mug, pours already-hot water in with the tea bag; holds it out toward Brahms) Drink.
Brahms(suspiciously): how many rotting fish heads went into that?
Tchaik: Ew God! - and you're the nauseated one!? we're all going to be sick by the time you get done! go away and let us eat!
(Brahms takes the mug reluctantly from Hildegard, stares at floor, grumbles a barely audible 'thanks' and mopes out.)
Hildegard(after him): yes, you're welcome! (sighs, looks to ceiling) It's like house-training small animals !
Ives: It sure is, Hildegard.
Hildegard(turns): YOU'RE one of them!
Three hours later, the "Third" breakfast shift limps into the kitchen. Wagner holds the lead, sporting his usual mauve beret, a thick blue scarf wrapped around his neck, and a pair of wide sunglasses. He surveys the empty kitchen in some satisfaction before going to the pantry, talking to Liszt, who sits at the table. Mozart stumbles in, rubbing at his eyes and groaning.
Wagner: There's to be no peace had before mid morning in this God-forsaken household, what with all the self-righteous workaholics and their omelettes always--
Mozart(sprawls across table): aghhhhhhooooww
Liszt(half-heartedly): hey
Mozart: Oh ... man what did I put in that fruit punch?
Liszt: I'm glad I didnt have any of that
(Wagner sits at table with two bowls of cereal; passes one to Liszt over Mozart's head.)
Mozart: so Richard... whats with the sunglasses and scarf? are you Katherine Hepburn?
Wagner: I ... I may go out today, and one needs protection from the sun's harsh rays - mother light-giver though she may be, the Sun often can do more harm than he-
(Enter Schumann, who appears to be as normal as he usually is.)
Schumann: Well, well, gentlemen. Now is the winter of your discontent!
Liszt: how come you're fine?
Schumann: Oh, question not the ways of the fruit punch; she works mysteriously.
Liszt: (sighs) no mystery to me...
Wagner(gets up suddenly - steadies himself, hand to head): Ugh, the post-alcoholic consumption trauma has confounded my abilities to prepare even the simplest of meals... not enough milk! (takes his cereal bowl to refrigerator, through which Schumann is rooting like a child on double dare) Excuse me!
Schumann(looks at him): ah, the cunning fox will not look eye-to-eye at his foe (snatches Wagner's sunglasses, revealing an impressive black eye) Hah! He cannot look but with one eye!
Wagner(furious): GIVE ME THOSE--
Mozart: ah hahahah!
Liszt(grimaces): You should probably put some ice on that, Richard...
Wagner: It's fine! (in the struggle for the glasses, his bowl of cereal tips and dumps Wheaties on him - Schumann is untouched) DAMN FOOL!
Schumann: Oh, how judgmental the Breakfast of Champions. (nods) Ah, well. (takes a grapefruit from the fridge and wanders out)
Mozart: ahahah... hows he goingto eat that??
Liszt: I don't even want to know..
Meanwhile, Barbara Strozzi is trying to sneak her way back into the house. She's not worried about the interrogations - provided that they don't all come the minute she steps inside. She's well aware that Mussorgsky will be guarding the front door, sprawled on the couch where he has a keen view of the foyer. Thus she creeps to the back of the house and inspects: Beethoven is sitting at the foot of the maple tree, back propped against it, facing away. Hildegard is in her usual corner of the yard where she meditates. Strozzi stays low and close to the house, sneaking along the wall to the porch. She heads for the door - so close - but -- a croaking groan startles her -)
Strozzi(jumps): Ah! (looks down - on the one chaise lounge in the patio collection lies Brahms, face down, arms hanging over lifelessly)
Brahms: kghhhh....
Strozzi(amused, sits in nearby chair): Can this be? Can this be my responsible housemate Johannes, who wakes up everyday at 5 to compose for hours on end?? What is the world coming to??
Brahms(does not move): ... poiss....son..
Strozzi: poison? (notices mug near his hand; picks it up, sniffs) Ah, it's just tea.
Brahms: ...glhh
Strozzi(yawns): ...and when did you get home last night?
Brahms(convulses suddenly into ball) : TOD-!
Strozzi: haha - I don't feel so bad now. (stands, stretches, rubs eyes) ohh, I need a nap... (heads for door) feel better, Johannes (she is answered by the scraping of chair as brahms gets up and stumbles off to the bushes) oh dear... I wonder what she put in that tea... or maybe.. what he drank last night.. hmm. (opens back door, peeks in: the coast looks clear -- she makes her move)
Strozzi gets all the way to the staircase before she encounters someone -- but the someone is Mussorgsky, toddling down the stairs with a bottle of alcohol in hand.
Strozzi: You're drinking!
Mussorgsky: youre not wearing what you were wearing last night
Strozzi: ah... heh... you're sure you remember?
Mussorgsky: well i dont think you own any conductor shirts...
Strozzi: oh .. hahah, of course.. (the shirt reads "Top Ten Reasons to be a Conductor.") yeah, i should change - then take a nap... (sudden realization) oh no!!
Mussorgsky: what?
Strozzi: aghhhh.. I have a yoga class at 1 today!
Mussorgsky(continues down stairs): ohh you social butterflies
Strozzi: And don't let Hildegard see you with that alcohol
Mussorgsky: i wouldnt let Hildegard see you with that shirt-
Strozzi: hah..
(Strozzi makes it to the top of the stairs before Mozart bounds out of the hall bathroom, grinning impishly, apparently feeling much better.)
Mozart: ah, I hear begonias are a natural aphrodisiac!
Strozzi(grins): oh no, were you just waiting there to accost me??
Mozart(reading the shirt): hah - Reasons to be a Conductor, eh?? "farthest away from the timpani" "dont have to face the audience" hahah-
Strozzi(tries to hide text and walk past him): yes, well - I should change --
Mozart: What - what?? "Two batons are better than one!" ahahahah!
Strozzi(sneaks by): Yes that's true, you know... I must change - I have a yoga class in an hour! (disappears into bedroom)
Mozart: ahahahh- Oh, Mozart Fruit Punch, you are impressive.
Strozzi gives up the idea of the nap in favor of showering and lunch. Before long she and Hildegard head out to main street where the yoga place and natural foods market are.
Hildegard: So you are going to keep seeing him?
Strozzi: yes of course - this was no flighty one night stand-
Hildegard(raised eyebrow): Oh, sorry - and here I thought you two were just completely drunk.
Strozzi: no... well, it wasn't exactly planned, but who can complain about a little spontaneity?
(their attention is caught by a middle-aged woman walking towards them, apparently embroiled in a serious disussion with the small poodle hanging out of her handbag.)
Woman: I agree absolutely, the fear of the feminine is not evaded in music either- in fact, its only exacerbated by fear of music itself!
Hildegard(can't help herself): excuse me, what are you talking about? We are female musicians - composers!
(The woman stops - she and the dog regard them with the same wide-eyed expression. Finally the woman speaks, Long Island accent painfully clear.)
Woman: You're composas?
Strozzi: We are indeed.
Woman: We're musicalogists.
Strozzi: What's that?
Hildegard: Both of you?
Woman: We study music, its social ontologies, and its effects on listeners. Yes, this is my dog, Joe. (she pats the poodle on the head)
Hildegard: interesting.. and the fear of music?
Woman: That's a phenomenon we've discovered within our field - fellow scholahs seem to be afraid of dealing with the physical effects of music on the body for one --
Strozzi: Speaking of body -I hate to go - but I have a yoga class now.. Bye! (ducks into gym; Hildegard walks along with the woman...)
Back at the ranch, we find Zacara sitting at the piano poring over a gigantic tome which is opened to page 1. It's Wagner's opera Tristan and Isolde. Zacara looks perplexed as Wagner (sunglasses and scarf still on) enters the room.
Wagner: Excuse me, Antonio... is that my opera?
Zacara: Hello Richard.. I cant tell if its the headache or the music... this is certainly.. eh.... interesting..
Wagner: Are you implying that my music is responsible for your headache?
Zacara: No.... just saying its not making a lot of sense. I like it.
Wagner(sits at sofa): Oh, good. Well I'll tell you that it becomes much more interesting as you go along.. It's an epic tale of --
Zacara(cuts him off): Actually I was thinking of writing a cantus firmus mass on the opening theme.. (plays the famous "Tristan" half phrase at the keyboard) Now amidst this chromatic nonsense is the potential for some very interesting polyphonic elaboration..
Wagner: What?! You can't turn my Tristan into a MASS--
Zacara: But that's the great irony: an opera about death and sex -- perfect for church..
Wagner: No - That phrase is not something to be turned into a cantus firmus!
Zacara: True, it poses some problems - the question of a vertical vs linear setting - I think we definitely need this harmony in there (plays Tristan chord) ahhhh, that's nice - look at that double leading tone-
Wagner: WHAT! That's not a double leading tone - none of your alternative music nonsense! (snatches score from Zacara)
Zacara: This will have to be the tenor line, though (plays cello part) The guys'll love this-
Wagner: I categorically forbid you to use MY Tristan for any musical undertaking you may have in mind -- Zacara: Oh, come on - imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Wagner: imitation perhaps, NOT imitative polyphony!
Zacara: ...heh heh heh.....
Meanwhile at the gym, Strozzi is inspecting her yoga classmates. Out of twenty, there seem to be two gay guys - one very obviously so, the other by virtue of being in a yoga class. The women are of one type: tall and thin. Strozzi suddenly feels like an elephant on display..she tries to move to the back..
Strozzi(to self): ... why am I wider than any two of these girls side-by-side??... hmm.. (The instructor at the head of the class announces that they should sit and attempt to move into the lotus position; Strozzi is exhausted to begin with, and gladly falls down. ) ooph.. (looks at the nearest classmate) lotus... hmm... (she tries to cross her legs properly) ugh... sore... ohhh... (starts to chuckle -the person next to her scowls over her shoulder) ...
Instructor: Welcome to the World of Yoga - now I see some of you have been here before.
Strozzi(muttering): all of them obviously...
Instructor: But to the newcomers - we are glad you have joined us. Yoga is a Hindu mystic tradition that we use to relax and get in touch with our spiritual sides in this hectic day and age..
Strozzi(stifles a yawn): ... wheres Hildegard??
Instructor: First let's concentrate on some breathing exercises. The nadi shodhana or sweet breath is one of the best for beginners. (she launches into a complicated explanation - something involving left and right nostrils alternating.. Strozzi just watches the person next to her and copies)
Instructor: Now just relax... close your eyes and count. Remember to keep it steady..
Strozzi: psst - what are counting to?
Girl: 4 to breathe in, 16 to hold, 8 to breathe out. (closes eyes)
Strozzi: thanks... (frowns, mutters) lot of not breathing if you ask me.... (strozzi holds her breath, counts, exhales.. ) isnt so bad... relaxing... good....
(15 minutes later we see Strozzi leaning against the back wall, sound asleep - of course the instructor is trying to lead the group on to a new yoga position - she notices Strozzi.)
Instructor: Er.. excuse me... in the back....?
Strozzi: ...mm.... (one of the nearby guys taps her in the arm; she jolts awake) what - hide! (looks around - everyone is staring) oh.. heh heh... hem.. sorry..
(After a long struggle with the forces of sleep, Strozzi manages to make it out of yoga class. She is still yawning and stretching when she gets down to the street.)
Strozzi: ohhh... (yawns then stretches - grimaces) I need a NAP -- (she glances across the street - thinks she sees Robert Schumann disappearing into a shop,but he is gone before she can blink) what... I'm definitely in need of a nap... hallucinating now..
Tchaikovsky: Barbara!
Strozzi(turns to see Tchaikovsky coming down the sidewalk with a woman in her late twenties; she joins them): Hi Pyotr-
Tchaik: This is my friend Desire� - my housemate Barbara (the women shake hands) You should get along - you're both singers!
Strozzi: Hello, what repertoire do you sing?
Desire�: oh, opera, songs - Pyotr's written a romance for me just lately.
Strozzi(raised eyebrow at Tchaik): really? I hadn't heard about that...
Tchaik(blush): Well, I'm just speechless when it comes to her artistic gifts.
Desire�: Well, here we are. I have to run - rehearsal won't start without me, but I shouldn't be more than 15 minutes late.. Ciao! (kisses Tchaik on cheek - ducks into some door along the street.)
Tchaik: smooches! (Strozzi and Tchaik continue strolling.)
Strozzi: Do you have to go back to school?
Tchaik: Nah, I cancelled my composition meetings.. I'm not feeling that great today.
Strozzi: Ah... you seemed pretty well in her presence....
Tchaik: well she has an uplifting effect on my spirits.
Strozzi(grins): Just your spirits?
Tchaik(smacks her in the arm): hey -
Strozzi: Sorry... tired.
Tchaik: she's just an amazing artist - I am always in awe whenever she opens her mouth to sing-
Strozzi: Honestly, Pyotr, you are really going on like some lovestruck straight guy - rhapsodizing about another singer in front of me like this. You should know better!
Tchaik: sorry, I guess I should... I just - (stops dead, as if struck by some epiphany) What if I'm BI!?
Strozzi: What! - that-
Tchaik(gasp): I could be at least half normal!
Strozzi(grimace): oh no - Pyotr, you shouldn't think that way-
Tchaik: Then -- then I could be a respectable member of the community - the kids would stop flirting with me! - damn them - Why -- I - I do like her - of course - it just takes the right one - Beauty and Art unified in one perfect being! (throws up arms) I'M IN LOVE!! -- WITH A WOMAN!
(The old couple who had been listening misty-eyed suddenly gasps and disappears into a store; Tchaik, unaware, dances off merrily down the street, with Strozzi jogging and grumbling to keep up)
Strozzi: Pyotr! wait -- I - agh.. too tired for movment - (laughs) I need a nap!
Its not long before Tchaikovsky returns to the house and makes his grand announcement, nearly knocking over Mozart who is headed into the piano room.
Tchaik: I LOVE A WOMAN!
Mozart: What! (laughs)
(Further down the hall, Liszt pokes his head out of the den.)
Liszt: I heard 'woman' and 'love' in the same sentence from Pyotr.
Tchaik: Yes, a soprano-
Mozart: Oh it's singing fever around here these days-
Tchaik: We had been friends but I had never until now realized the true extent of my feeling for her! (prances down hall) I'm in loveeee!
Mozart(eyes mist over): Ah yes... I was in love with a singer once....(grand pause - Liszt looks at him skeptically) Long story. -- So you think Pyotr's been reading through Richard's operas, or what?
(Enter Strozzi)
Strozzi: hi guys
Liszt: Oh, are you responsible for Pyotr's love sickness?
Strozzi: Has he told you already? (they can hear from the den : "I'M IN LOVE WITH A WOMAN!" "QUATSCH!" "And what are you wearing sunglasses inside for?" "Leave me alone, fool! how is a great genius to concen..." etc) I guess he has.. well, no, I'm not the singer in question.
Mozart: Ah, good. (adds with a wink) Gustav could take him.
Strozzi: Yes, he could. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me.. it is time for a long-overdue nap. (heads upstairs)
Liszt: the scandal in this house...
Mozart: I'm telling you -
(Suddenly Beethoven throws open the door to the back porch and storms in.)
Beethoven: There's to be no work done inside OR outside of this house!
Mozart: ah haah here's trouble-
Liszt: You sound like Richard!
Beethoven(walks up to them, stops, scowling): He can't be wrong all the time.
(Hildegard comes out of the kitchen, one hand to her head)
Hildegard: can't you blasted men express any thoughts without yelling like cavemen??
Beethoven: oh good, the culprit. This is all your fault. You go out there and fix him. (points demandingly at back door.)
Liszt: "Fix"??
Mozart(laughs): Ohhh, has our house become an animal shelter now?
Hildegard: It's been an animal shelter for a long time now, Wolfgang. (to Beet) What's the problem - what are you talking about?
Beethoven: Johannes is "Detoxing."
Hildegard: Detoxing?! - he doesn't know the meaning of the word!
Beethoven: He does now, and everytime he has half a breath to spare he curses YOU with it. I can't get any work done out there- (storms past them into piano room - momentarily Schumann comes out, looking concerned)
Hildegard(sigh): I can't do anything..it's not my fault if the fool drank every alcohol within a fifty mile radius.
Mozart: Just stand still and let him throw rocks at you. he'll feel better, I guarantee!
Hildegard: (exasperated sigh) May he have learned his lesson! (sweeps out)
Schumann(nodding gravely to the other two): dark times these are... (follows her)
Mozart: Between the two of them, don't you get the feeling we're in a Star Wars movie?
Liszt:... yes, that could be it. I've been trying to figure out which fantasy land Robert is living in..
Mozart(nods): Yep. Star Wars.
(Beethoven reappears.)
Beethoven: ahh - I can't get any work done -- I'm going out to get that damned cell phone! (storms out front door)
Mozart: Star Wars meets the Flintstones??
(The woman Strozzi and Hildegard had met earlier appears from the kitchen; she looks to Mozart and Liszt)
Woman: Excuse me, did you see where Hildegard went?
Mozart(grins): Oh, I wouldn't follow her if I were you. She's tending to the sick.
Woman(offended): I was talking to her. (There's a high-pitched yap from the kitchen; the woman looks back over her shoulder) Absolutely, Joe.
Mozart(to woman): I'm sorry, I didn't get your name, Miss...?
Woman(affronted): Miss??
Mozart(clears throat): Msssss...?
Woman(shoves a hand in his direction): Susan.
Mozart(shakes, grimaces at her grip): Wolfgang-
(Just then, Hildegard and Schumann come in through the backdoor, helping Brahms along between them. At least he seems to be well enough to be arguing with Hildegard.)
Brahms: What do you mean HYDRATE-
Hildegard: You stupid fool - you can't recover without water, no wonder you're dying-
Brahms: you gave me TEA, not water!
Hildegard: That was hours ago!
Brahms: no one brought me water..
Schumann(gravely muttering): no sweet Esmeralda to save you- alas, I was absent as well!
Hildegard(same time): You expect us to bring you the water!!
Susan: Oh - that's right, Hildegard, it's always the woman's fault.
(Brahms looks up, glaring magnificently. Liszt senses danger and sneaks off to the piano room, but Mozart stays grinning.)
Mozart: So - Susan - anything to drink?
Susan: Yeah, I have some wata in the kitchen.
(And so all paths converge in the kitchen; Mozart and Susan sit at the table (she with her purse-poodle in arms); Schumann and Brahms join them while Hildegard fills up an old Big Gulp cup with water. She sets it down imperiously in front of Brahms.)
Hildegard: Drink.
(He regards her ruefully, but takes a sip.)
Susan(to Mozart, who is listening intently): and sonata form - there is a coded sexual drama that plays out within every instance of sonata form.
Mozart(nods): I like sexual drama.
Susan(frowns): I'm afraid so. But you see, this is a power game; the masculine tonic key asserts itself over the secondary "feminine" theme by the end of the sonata form.
Mozart(raises an eyebrow): ah..? what about the first theme?
Susan: It's masculine.
Mozart: Oh, because it's in tonic?
Susan: That's part of it, but usually the theme is characterized by certain masculine tropes in musical rhetoric..
Mozart: But if tonic is masculine, does that mean everything else is feminine? That's a pretty sweet deal for the feminine, actually. (Susan is about to argue, but Mozart continues) And what if the first theme changes key? Is that like ... a sex change operation?
(Hildegard frowns at Mozart; Brahms grins from behind the Big Gulp that nearly eclipses his head - Schumann is staring at the coffee filters with a discerning expression of distrust.)
Susan: When does the first theme change key?
Mozart: Our neighbor writes music that changes key.. (adds ponderously) He would be the sort to bring back the first theme in IV... but then, so am I -- OR -- or what if the feminine secondary theme never changes to the tonic?!! What if it goes to THE MAJOR DOMINANT - THE ARCH NEMESIS OF THE MASCULINE TONIC!!??
Susan(smirks): Sometimes it happens that a composer will challenge the conventions--
Mozart(like an excited child ratting out a cheater): He does that. (points at Brahms, who stops grinning immediately.)
Susan(turns suspiciously): Hm?
Mozart(grinning): Oh yes, our friend Hannes loves to play with the gendered conventions of sonata form, indeed, sometimes with gender itself-
(Brahms puts down the Big Gulp, splashing some of the table; Schumann looks back with a ponderous frown.)
Hildegard: er - did anyone want any tea?
Brahms: TEA! I'm sick -- literally sick - of your damned tea--
Mozart: Hehehe (to Susan) Don't mind me - He's actually a plumber.
(The dog yips.)
Susan: I don't know, Joe.
Hildegard: WOLFgang!- 'em... don't you have something constructive to do right now?
Schumann(looks to Susan): How now, madam? Do you suppose they know about the infamous Epsom Salt Incident?
Susan:.... excuse me?
(Brahms, who has been trying to think of a comeback to Mozart all this time, suddenly turns to Schumann, tired and confused.)
Brahms: What are you talking about?
Schumann(sheepish grin): Some things are not meant for eagles' ears.
Brahms: (grumbles, takes cup and leaves)
Susan(to Schumann): Are you talking to me?
Schumann: That can be arranged. (pauses) What if a woman writes sonata form?
Mozart: That was surprisingly lucid, Robert.
Susan: Well, you would have to investigate how she manipulates the conventions of the formal design.
Mozart: But my male friends do that, so does that make them feminists?
(Enter Liszt, who eyes the scene suspiciously while he opens the refrigerator door and takes out a carton of milk.)
Mozart: Oh hey, Franz - Richard should come down and meet our guest. He calls himself a feminist, doesn't he?
Liszt: ah... (doesnt like the look he is receiving from Susan) he's still feeling a little under the weather.
Susan: ... how many people live here, Hildegard?
Hildegard: hehheh.. did I ever give you a tour of the back yard, Susan?
Susan: No, as a matter of fact.
Hildegard(stands): Yes, why don't we do that - might be more quiet, and you can explain your theories to me.
Susan: All right - Joe seems a bit antsy. (the dog yips in agreement as Susan and Hildegard leave. The others remain in their spots pondering..)
Liszt: ... what was that all about?
Mozart: Feminist musicologist.
Schumann: I foresee unpleasant reception for her in the future..
Liszt: Indeed.. Wait until Richard feels fit to be seen in public again..
Mozart: Heheh - wait until Johannes is feeling well enough to answer.. (they snicker like small children having just hidden tacks on someone's chair)
Schumann: No, worse still - Wait until she meets a woman who writes sonata form!
Mozart: What's all this about, Robert, have YOU met one recently?
(Schumann answers only with a sly smile before wandering out.)
Liszt: Uh oh.....
Hours later, Beethoven returns with his brand new shining cell phone in hand. He is scowling at it -
Beethoven: Damn thing.. (clicks a key - another ring tone begins: Mozart's Turkish March) What THE--- (click to another ring tone: Mozart's Little Night Music) DAMN IT!! (Mozart sticks his head out of the piano room, grinning.)
Mozart: Something wrong, Ludwig?
Beethoven: Stupid cell phone.... its all your music!
Mozart: he he he.. (gives a smart bow) And are you surprised? Do I not fashion my music to entertain the masses? Have I not sold my soul to the evil capitalist gods? (winks, disappears inside the room again)
Beethoven(clicks again: tune from another Mozart piano sonata): AGHHHHRRRRRRR!!!