Two Days Later...
The 7-ball rolls neatly into a pocket.
Beethoven: So...you got lost in east side for 45 minutes, then a drunk old lady tried to molest you, then you got chased by a pitbull, doused by a sprinkler system, and in the end you made a grand total of 39 dollars and 17 cents for... how many hours of work?
Brahms: 18 cents. Five.
Beethoven: ...it's kind of funny.
Brahms: Shut up. (sinks 5-ball) So you can see why I let them know that pizza delivery was not my proper career path.
Beethoven: ..yea..(looks out basement window, Wagner's pink curtains delicately framing the morning sunlight) It's supposed to be 105 today. But I can't get any work done inside.
Brahms: I can't get any work done at all. (misses the 3-ball shot)
Beethoven: So...I'm just going to crash at her place. (Brahms frowns)
Brahms: I'm getting another job.
Beethoven: what kind? (sinks 10-ball)
Brahms: don't know...(long pause as Beet lines up a shot; Brahms yawns) It's only 7 and I'm already tired.
Beethoven: the heat..
Brahms: No, it's the very idea of work..
Beet(sinks 15): They want help at Ruby Tuesday's.. at least, they did last time we went there.
Brahms(collapses on sofa): Egh, we'll see..
7:15am. Breakfast shift two is going on; Strozzi, Liszt, Tchaik, and Ives are in the kitchen.
Ives: So, I thought I saw Hildegard this morning with a sign that said something about "vow of silence"? What's that all about?
(Liszt, Tchaik, and Strozzi exchange a quick glance. They all answer at once:)
Tchaik: I think it's a prop for the play--
Liszt: She's having a day of silence in recognition of breast cancer--
Strozzi: She lost a bet with me--
Ives(confused): I think you people need to get your stories right!
Liszt: Well, it's easy enough to confuse the motivation when she won't actually speak to us, right?
Ives: I just want to know: Do we have a rehearsal tonight, or not?
Strozzi: I'll inquire - but don't let that worry you when you have to do such strenuous work. (turns to him, chin propped cutely on hand) Is it difficult, Charles, dealing with those customers all day long?
Tchaik: in this heat, no less --
Ives: Well... Some people would certainly say it is, but I've never had any trouble. But then, I do seem to have a true knack for selling insurance. (the other three smile encouragingly) Speaking of which, I should get to work! You know how people drive in this heat wave... Worse than usual!
Tchaik: Ok, see you later! (Ives dumps his plate in the sink and leaves; the other three sigh at the closing front door) That was close.
Strozzi: Yeah, funny as the situation is, I somehow don't think Charles would... appreciate it.
Liszt: Yes, no matter how awful either of them can be, they don't deserve that.
Strozzi: Although, it would be funny to see Charles trying to give 'romance tips' to Johannes. (chuckles; the other two shudder)
Tchaik: No, Barbara, sometimes you're just too perverse.
(Enter Muss, a mess in a bathrobe.)
Muss: Good, Barbara. You have a date with the media tomorrow.
Strozzi: What??
(Liszt leans back in chair, arms folded, waiting for the amusements.)
Muss: I arranged some ladies in the community to have an exclusive interview with you. And incidentally some of them happen to be friends with some members of the press..
Strozzi: Thanks, Modest, but what is this about?
Muss: Hildegard's morality play. Good thing I didn't arrange it with her. I don't think the hair shirt would go over well with the younger audiences..
Liszt(grins): Since when are you publicity manager for the show?
Muss(shrugs): No one else is thinking of these things
Tchaik: You'd think Wolfgang would - he's the one running around with the camera all the time!
Strozzi: So when's this exclusive interview, where, and what do I wear?
Muss: Tomorrow at noon, at the Country Club, dress respectably. (looks in fridge; pulls out the meatloaf)
Tchaik: I don't know if you have it in you, Barbara.
Strozzi: oh go on, I'll be fine.
Liszt(frowns): The Country Club? I have a lunch date there tomorrow.
Strozzi: Hahahah! Oh no, Franz, I'm doomed!
Muss: I cant plan everything around your schedule, Franz Liszt! Just don't make eyes at the old ladies.. (exit)
Liszt: Maybe we'll go elsewhere.. (calls) Hey Modest! Don't eat that meatloaf - it's Clara's!
Muss(calls back from hall): It's been four days it's public domain now!
Tchaik: I don't know why he made so much food!!
Strozzi: It's Robert. He's crazy. What can you do?
(They realize suddenly that Mussorgsky is backing into the kitchen, hands (and meatloaf) in air - Robert Schumann following him with a magnificent glower; in his hand pointed at Mussorgsky as if a gun is an upside-down loafer.)
Muss: Ok ok Robert Im just putting it back.... nice and easy (opens refrigerator, replaces meatloaf) See? no harm.....
Schumann(sotto voce): -the mango--
Muss: huh?
Schuman(gestures to refrigerator with the loafer): the mango! fool...
Muss: oh.. (pulls out a mango, offers it to him)
Schumann: (takes it, eyes dart about suspiciously, suddenly runs from room)
Tchaik: Nice try, Modest.
Muss: ah shutup.
Liszt: Never a dull moment.
Muss: Thats one way of putting it.
11am.
Wagner and Beethoven run into each other at the front door. Wagner, in a pink and orange Hawaiian shirt, makes an extravagant bowing gesture.
Wagner: Noble Genius, to whom all reverence is due, please lead the way into the wild elements. What is it on such a sweltering day that should rouse you from your composition and send you traveling in the world?
Beethoven: I can't work in here.
Wagner: Indeed, I myself have been called away by the very--
Schumann(sticks head out of piano room): PSST! GREY EAGLE!
Beethoven(startles, as Schumann is two feet behind him): hey - what?? (Schumann grabs him by the collar and pulls him back into the piano room; Wagner shrugs, leaves)
Schumann: Where is the Great White Hope?
Beethoven: ... Jack Johnson?
Schumann: Fool! The Green and Gold Tiger?
Beethoven: .. are you talking about Johannes? He went to get a day job.
Schumann(falls upon sofa as if struck by loss of a beloved pet): ach.... I understand this not. The Artist's job is Art! Wherefore!?
Beethoven: ... uh.. (realizes Schumann hasn't been told) He.. uhm... You should ask him about that.
Schumann: (shakes head) I have failed to answer the Sphinx riddle. I receive nothing in return.
Beethoven: Right, well... I have to go.. (sneaks away)
3pm.
The Italian bistro Pulcinella's.
Antonio Zacara and two older men. One of them is round and walks with somewhat of a limp; the other, frailer man is much older and hobbles along with a big black briefcase. They sit at a back table and soon the owner appears at their side.
Owner(in thick Italian accent): John, Jim! ZACAR--
Zacara: eh, Rino, che fa?
Rino: Oh god, I killa all de rat in de batroom de oter day. finally killa da big one I call Andy
(Jim and John whip open their briefcases and pull out piles of music manuscripts and facsimiles.)
John(hearty bass voice): That's good, Rino. We'll just have the usual today.
Rino: Ya, rightaway (exit)
Jim: aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh - Antonio, now.... ugh, I think, uhhh, your most recent ballata is a fine specimen in the genre.
(The speech defect has no effect on Zacara or John.)
Zacara: I'm glad it has your approval!
Jim: and, ughhhhhh, you should see about having it published abroad.
John(opens huge book): The Italian books are very popular, as you know.
Zacara(sees picture of himself in book): Hey hey, I told you not to show me that - it's a terrible likeness, I look like a goddamned evil midget!
Jim(laughs): well, then it's spot on, I'd say!
Rino(returns): Threea espressos!
Zacara: yeah, yeah, remind me why I put up with you two?
John(sharp sucking in of air): mmm... wasn't it something about artistic consultation?
Zacara: Since I have no artistic sense myself, right?
Jim(almost to be believed): Precisely. Composers never do know better than musicologists. why else do we exist but to tell them about their own music?
(They all laugh and toast with their beverages.)
4pm.
Mozart and Strozzi are sitting on the sofa in the den; she is reading a Harry Potter book; he is upside-down, staring at the ceiling.
Mozart: You know what, Barbara?
Strozzi: Hm?
Mozart: It's really quiet today.
Strozzi: I know. I feel like so much of a slacker just sitting around without any rehearsals to worry about. And I haven't gone outside for two days!
Mozart: And Hannes is out "working" - whatever. He should be plotting the destruction of Schubert's lawn gnomes with Robert! And it's so.... it's so quiet without Hildegard bossing us all around! It's worse than the time Modest disappeared and didn't collect our mail! All is amiss with the world! O weh!
Strozzi: We should do something about it... (thoughtful pause) Actually, what we should really do something about is Ludwig's hair.
Mozart: Why? His girlfriend seems to like it.
Strozzi: She doesn't know better then. Or else that's why she refuses to meet us: she's embarrassed to be seen with him! hahahah
Mozart: Hahahah!! We should get him a makeover!
Strozzi: Absolutely. At the mall.
Mozart: Nordstrom's-
Strozzi: No, Hecht's. (sees his confused expression) It costs less.
Mozart(sits up): But how?
(Enter Tchaik)
Tchaik: How's it going?
Mozart: We're plotting a makeover for Ludwig.
Tchaik(sits on couch with them): Ooh, perfect! You'll need to drug him up before he'll consent, though. (they laugh)
Strozzi: This happen a lot to you, Pyotr?
Tchaik: No, no, I'm just saying -- one should be aware of these issues..
Mozart: Especially when they involve pranks on your housemates. But where are we going to get drugs? (pause - the answer occurs to them at the same time)
Strozzi: --noooo no-
Tchaik:-- I don't think -
Mozart: --hahahahah, that'd be hilarious, yeah? "Hey Hildegard, we need to borrow a nice sedative so we can drug up Ludwig, take him to the mall, and get him a makeover..." (they laugh) Yeah, I don't want to be the first one she murders.
Strozzi: Ah, but I bet I know who would be able to get hold of some sedatives, AND help us....
Mozart: Oh, do tell...
Random scene: Hildegard is about to walk into the kitchen when she sees Mussorgsky at the the counter - she freezes, wide-eyed, slowly turns and creeps away.
730pm. Dinner sees an odd mix of housemates eating in the basement: Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and Tchaik. Mozart is playing pool while he eats his salad, the plate perched precariously on the table's edge. Tchaik is sprawled on the sofa; Bach sitting on one arm of the sofa. Beethoven leans against the cool wall.
Tchaik: All I can hear in my head are sopranos these days... and pianos...
Bach: Sounds like a song cycle brewing..
Tchaik: Ugh... Desiree hasn't written, or called, or anything.
Beethoven: uh, don't take it the wrong way, but.. I don't think she likes you very much. So, you should give up on her.
Mozart: hahhah, thanks, Ludwig!
Beethoven: Whatever. I'm terrible at consoling people.
Tchaik(frowns): So you think I should just go after Yuri then?
Beethoven: Well - whatever the case--
Mozart: Speaking of consoling - is anyone trying to help Hildegard?
Bach(cheerfully): She won't accept charity. Although Antonio said something about the pope.
Mozart: What?!
Bach: He found a note this morning. She wants an audience with the pope.
Tchaik: What for?!
Mozart: No - how does Zacara know the pope?!!
Bach(shrugs): I don't put anything past him. Hildegard didn't say why she wanted to see the pope.. (ponderous silence)
Beethoven: But...what about Robert? (they look at him) He doesn't know yet.
Bach: What?!
Mozart: hahahaha-
Tchaik: Didn't Johannes tell him?!
Beet: He only told me. (adds pointedly) I wonder how the rest of the house knows..
Bach: Modest told me.
Mozart: And me.
Tchaik: (looks around, embarrassed; Beet makes a low sound eerily resembling a growl) It just sort of came out at breakfast the morning after.. and...Franz was there.. (the others groan) So.. heh, naturally everyone else knows! Except Charles.
Beet: And Robert. Someone needs to tell him.
Bach(chuckles): Yeah, an unknowing Robert trying to make small talk with Hildegard... that could be disastrous. Well, I'll do it. (stands up) Where is he?
Beet(nods at the ceiling): den last I saw him..
Bach: Onward then! To end innocence and pass on the Forbidden Fruit of Knowledge!
Mozart: For someone who goes to Church so much, he sounds way too excited about that.
Sure enough, Bach finds Schumann in the den. The man is smoking a pipe as he lounges on the sofa in Liszt's purple and red paisley smoking jacket. Wagner's beret sits in his lap.
Bach: How are you, Robert?
Schumann: but soft - (blows a large puff of smoke) a hippogryffe!
Bach(frowns at the puff): Ah, right. Say, isn't that Franz's robe?
Schumann: Smoke ring.
Bach: Isn't that Richard's beret too? (notices vodka on table behind sofa) and Modest's vodka? What are you doing, Robert?
Schumann: Oh, interrupt not this feebling's attempt at respite. You had words?
Bach: (sits) Well, right. I think you've been a bit out of the loop lately, and some of the guys and I thought it'd be best to let you know what's going on around here... (Schumann regards him with big lazy eyes - like an old saint bernard.) So... basically, a couple of our housemates seem to have ingested illegal substances and had a one-night sta---
Schumann(springs to feet; arms in air): ACH!! speak not of fickle loves-- in this house we admit only TRUE passions!
Bach: Well, I agree that true passions are ... better, but you have to admit that sometimes two people just--
Schumann: Do we speak of one cupid, who let fly those stings of impartial opportunism? there is nought but the purest of sentiments behind the consummation of souls!
Bach: I mean - ideally, yes, but --
Schumann: Silence! silence!! - befoul not the holy bonds of spiritual attainment - (exit, dramatically; Bach is left sitting on the sofa, confused)
Bach: Hm..
After his dinner with Ives in the kitchen, Zacara heads upstairs in search of Hildegard. She is in her bedroom, meditating, hair shirt and vow of silence sign are in place as expected. Zacara walks up and dumps a sheet of paper in front of her.
Zacara: Write to this address. (exit)
Hildegard picks up the paper, goes to her drawer, pulls out elaborate writing paper and calligraphy set. Sits at window sill and begins writing.
Bach meanwhile returns to the basement where the others are playing cutthroat.
Mozart: So what'd Robert say?
Bach: I can't do it. He won't hear me. Someone needs to talk to him in Robert-speak, whatever that may be.
Tchaik: What - what do you mean he won't hear you - just TALK!
Bach: No! He kept cutting me off - something about not befouling spiritual - whatever, true Love. I don't understand these Romantics. Ludwig, you should tell him.
Beet: Johannes should tell him!
Mozart: Capital! then you should tell Hannes he should tell him.
Beet(grumbles): mountain outofa molehill..
Tchaik: Yes, but why hasn't Hannes told him already? Do you suppose he thinks Robert will feel betrayed? (Mozart laughs)
Bach: I don't--
Beet(under breath): Clara, you mean..
Tchaik: (sighs) God, I have to get out of the house if this is the most interesting part of my day...
Mozart: So? Go out then!
Tchaik(self-righteously): Yeah! Why don't I? I will! Good. (hands Bach his cue stick) Here, you can finish for me. I have to get ready. for an evening on the town! (trots up stairs)
Bach: uh, Ok. What set am I?
Mozart: You're the 10-15. heh, shit, we're in for it now.
Bach: (grins)
9pm. As Tchaik is leaving, he opens the front door to Franz Liszt.
Tchaik: Back from a date so early, Franz?
Liszt(nonchalant shrug): First date.
Tchaik: What? That doesn't sound like the Franz Liszt I know - where's Ladies-Man Liszt? the Great Seducer? The-
Liszt: Hey, hey, everyone likes to take it at their own pace...
Tchaik(appealing gesture to ceiling): What is going ON in this household anymore?!
Liszt: And... And she's the mayor's daughter.
Tchaik: OHHHHHhh!!! hahahah! That explains it!
Liszt: Indeed. (winks, heads for the kitchen)
Tchaik: Ok, I'm going out! Ciao! (exit-
On the steps, however, Tchaik walks into Wagner)
Wagner: Ach! Pardon me, dear housemate.
Tchaik: And you're apologizing! ahahahah!
Wagner: Indeed, although an apology from Richard Wagner should be received with all the reverence as would a benediction from the Divine!
Tchaik(rolls eyes): Where were you?
Wagner: My nearly Divine sponsor insisted on regaling me with a sumptuous supper and tales of Lohengrin's fond effects on him-
Tchaik: I need a sponsor like that!
Wagner: Beware, foul mortal, for I am quite jealous of him! (scowls; Tchaik raises an eyebrow)
Tchaik: Well! I'll just be on my merry way then! (goes to car; Wagner nods and goes into house)
12:05am. Brahms skulks home and goes straight to the backyard. Beethoven is working by flashlight in the dogloo. Brahms knocks on the plastic wall.
Beethoven(from inside): ghm.. go talk to Robert!
Brahms: I hate people. (tries to go in dogloo; Beethoven blocks the way with his arm)
Beethoven: No: Robert.
Brahms: What does he care? He's all distracted with Clara...
Beethoven: Whatever. Hes your best friend. JS tried to talk to him today but he wouldn't hear it. (Brahms retreats) You have to tell him. Gently. Nothing crass -- Do it in Robert-Speak, or however it is that you people communicate.
Brahms(leans against dogloo wall; slides down): I'm not -- I don't have the same whimsical flights of fancy that he does. I can't speak Robert-Speak - that's why it's called ROBERT-Speak! (sighs) It's almost midnight and it's still 80 degrees out here!
Beethoven: Robert.
Brahms: he's asleep.
Beethoven: wake him up!
Brahms: ass! (smacks dogloo behind him)
Beethoven(smacks it back): Go!
Brahms(stands, stretches): grr... Where's MY dogloo? the one I brought a couple days ago?
Beethoven: yeah, Richard took that to the dump himself. Now go talk to Robert.
Brahms: TOMORROW!! (kicks dogloo)
Beethoven: ROARRRRR!! (lifts entire ediface and heaves it aside; now he stands facing Brahms in the moonlight) You know, just because you feel like moping around all damned day and night ---
Schumann(from upstairs window): PSSSTTT!!! (They turn) Signori Maschere! Psst! Psst!
Brahms: Robert!
Schumann: Ahhh! Dearest friend, I dreamt you were holding a champagne bottle out of which flowed peacock feathers! How prosaic, yet how true!
Beethoven: Good. You can talk now. (goes for dogloo)
Brahms: Ah, Robert, meet me in the piano room. It's time for a game of midnight chess.
Schumann: Aye! (turns, mutters to self) The litte Sphinx shall reveal its riddles..
2am.
Brahms and Schumann are starting their second game of chess in the piano room by moonlight.
Schumann(moves pawn forward by two): Ah, you have been PAWNED!!
Brahms: shh -I don't think that's how you use that word, Robert.
Schumann(grins): Havent you?
Brahms: ...maybe (frowns at board, long pause)
Schumann: How now this "day job"?? Lust you for money?... no..? (pause) The divine Clara shares my concern.
Brahms(looks up): She shouldn't. I .. uh.. just wanted to leave the house. Free space, you know. (Schumann frowns) I mean - the striving Artist occasionally finds himself in need of.. uh... artistic.. freedom? New Paths, perhaps??
Schumann: Verily. But is the climate change so inspirational? Is it the reason for Hildegard's fast?
Brahms(appalled): she's fasting?!
Schumann: Midnight vigils forthcoming, methinks. Is it the shifting of the heavenly bodies, I wonder to myself?
Brahms(looks at chess board): eh.....maybe....but -- well, it's more like ...uh...... sometimes Cupid's dart... which, of course, normally is a wonderful thing, just - uh, sometimes flies off-course... very far off-course indeed, and affects people who ought to have nothing to do with each other (Schumann looks skeptical) No - really, nothing to do with each other and, uh....when these strange... twistings of Fate ... strike, it's like - you know, inescapable- like... like Starbucks springing up all over Manhattan - an Inevitable Evil. And there's nothing that can be done about it. And the poor ensnared souls are just ...trapped in the revolving doors of ... corporate Fate and its maniacal expansion into the common people's... struggle for their very existence.
Schumann(has listened with grave expression; finally speaks): .... So............you had Sex.
Brahms: .... yeah...
Schumann(shrugs, tone jolly again): Well, these things happen!
Brahms: uh -yea, I just don't want the whole world to know
Schumann: Take Heart, I shan't tell her. (Brahms looks shocked, but Schumann continues reminiscing) Ah, in the pre-Light days there was a singular nymph who captured my heart -- an Enchantress, indeed -- and how we romped through the gardens of Love! Why--
(He is interrupted by a forceful knock at the door. Brahms glances at the clock: 2:15...)
Schumann: Hm! What strange spirit comes a knocking at such low ebb of night?