A Little Head Cold
It is another two days before the cold actually hits Ives with full force. He has to call off work on Tuesday, and this displeases him immensely. He is bedridden, congested, coughing, and complaining about the general cussedness of the situation. Now he sits up in bed in an attempt to read. Luckily, his roommates Mussorgsky, Wagner, and Brahms are all out of the room at the moment.
Ives: (bronchial cough) Wagh - too early for this to be moving into the chest. This is a HEAD cold, and it will be done in another day.
(Enter Brahms, who frowns at Ives as he heads to his dresser.)
Brahms: Are you still awake?
Ives: Obviously. (blows nose with kleenex from the box at his side) I like how you haven't come down with it yet.
Brahms(rooting through drawer): "Yet"? I'm not coming down with it. I never get sick.
Ives: What are you doing over there? Are you trying to make as much racket as possible?
Brahms: I'm looking for staff paper! (throws a turquoise bra across the room) hm.. how'd that get in there...?
Ives(rolls eyes): I have some staff paper in my top drawer - you can take it, as long as you bring me a cup of hot tea.
Brahms: (produces paper) That's all right. I've found mine, thanks. (exit)
Ives: agh - well how's that for compassion? I guess I'll just try to read.. and try not to sneeze on his bed. He's lucky its a top bunk.
Downstairs, Brahms stops by the kitchen - Wagner and Tchaikovsky are playing cards. Brahms pauses in the doorway.
Brahms: The world has ended.
Wagner: I concur - he's actually winning this hand!
Tchaik: I've just been having a bad day. Hopefully this means the tide has turned.
Brahms(puts pot of water on): Charles - I meant. He wants tea for his dying request - one of you should take him some.
Wagner: It's one thing to be bossed around by a sick man - it's entirely different to be bossed around by someone who's already being bossed around by a sick man. I'll have none of this.
Tchaik: That means I can't be spared from this game, if you are not going to take a break.
Brahms: I see how it is.. (grins) Charles is just going to go thirsty.
(Enter Bach)
Bach(amused): I hope you're not leaving the dying up there on his own..
Brahms: No one will take him his tea.
Bach: Oh for God's sake - where is it?
Brahms: On the stove. He likes English Breakfast. Now excuse me - the "Working Man" has music to write. (exit)
Bach(surveys): We need a tea kettle. Ah well, I'll wait for it to boil then..Call me when it's done.
Tchaik: Check. (throws down a card)
Wagner: You're not serious about that 8, are you?
Tchaik: Yes..
Bach: Good luck, Pyotr. (exit)
Wagner: What!
Shortly thereafter, Mozart hears that Ives is unwell. His natural course is to go sympathize with the sick man. He enters the room noisily just as Ives is about to doze off.
Ives(groan): what?
Mozart(sits on the bed across from him): Hi Charles.
Ives: Wolfgang... what have you come to gloat?
Mozart: oh no! I've come to help you feel better. (pulls out a colorfully-wrapped box) See? I've even brought you a present.
Ives: A present? Ah, Wolfgang, you didn't have to do that for me. (Mozart hands him the box and he unwraps it gingerly) It's not a time bomb, is it?
Mozart: nahh
Ives: Ok.. (sniffles) let's see.. (opens box, pulls out..) an umbrella!
Mozart: I didn't think you had one!
Ives: ...(eyes narrow) You saw that I didn't bring my umbrella on Sunday.. and... you -- YOU ARE GLOATING!
Mozart: Ah hahahahahha!! (rolls over laughing)
Ives: Oh - be glad I haven't the strength to get up ! GO DO SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE - agh - (coughing fit ensues) Now - darn it! (coughs)
Mozart: Hahahah (wipes tear)
(Enter Bach, with tea tray)
Bach: What am I missing? Sounds like a good time in here!
Ives(still coughing): no -- ghem -- He - gloating!
Mozart(clears throat, hops up from the bed and puts on a serious face): Ah no, no. He has misinterpreted my sympathy gift as a cruel prank.
Bach: An umbrella?... That's pretty good, Wolfy.
Ives: Don't you - You should know better. You're not one of these playboy felons who never does any work.
Bach: You should rest, Charles. Look, your tea is come. (sets down tray on bedside table) Johannes said you liked English Breakfast, but what do you want in it?
Ives: Cream and Sugar.
Mozart: Honey and Lemon is better for a sore throat-
Bach(grinning): Will you get out of here and let me tend to the ill? Imp.
Mozart: All right, I see - my place at the bedside has been usurped - I understand.. (on the way out) But he should really be drinking Orange Juice! (notices turquoise bra on floor) What is this? Eh? (picks it up, continues out)
Ives: JS - what are we going to do with these miscreants?
Bach: Perhaps we should just humor them.
Ives: I'm too sick for that. (Bach hands him his tea; he sips it) Ahhh, thats good.
Bach: Is that to your taste ? - for future reference.
Ives: Yes, perfect proportions. How'd you know?
Bach: Oh...I thought you were the type to have 4 teaspoons of sugar and a half teaspoon of cream.. Now get some rest. I have to work. (exit)
Meanwhile downstairs: Franz Liszt can hear excited piano patterns accompanied by random "Hop! Hop!" sung in a high falsetto. He can also hear pounding as of feet on carpet..
Liszt: what... (follows the sounds down the hall to the piano room.
Robert Schumann is hopping around with a broomstick between his legs as if it were a toy horse - Mussorsgky is playing the piano - they are both laughing and singing)
Muss: Hey!!
Schumann: hop! hop!
Muss: Ratatatatatatatatata!
Schumann: ratatatatatatata!
Muss: Hahah - fall - he falls!
Schumann(sympathetically): And cries!
Muss: Well of course the world has come to an end atleast for the time being. but then rejuvenation at mothers healing touch- ratatatata!
Schumann(trills): Brrrrrrrrrrrr!
Liszt(leans in doorway, amused): Ahh - what's going on, gents? (they stop)
Muss(offended): We are discussing music.
Schumann: (watches suspiciously)
Liszt: I didn't know what you were up to. It sounded like a preschool in here.
Muss: Good! Thats the point (takes a swig from the beer bottle on the piano) Its childrens music.
Liszt: I like that. (sits elegantly on couch) Start again-
Schumann: This is not a public performance.
Muss: Ahh I needto write it down anyway. (stands opens piano bench) Wheres mymusic?
Schumann: Have the gnomes taken it?
Muss(roots around): What - whats this?? (throws a notebook at Schumann, who catches it and browses)
Schumann: Hmmm.. The subject appears to have illegible handwriting. Thus the subject is illegible. Must be Ludwig's. (tosses it back)
Muss: no paper! ill haveto go up and get some (grabs his beer, finishes it and walks off)
Liszt: What - no more music?
Schumann: You should know better than to interrupt the artist working amidst the springs of inspiration! (stalks out - Liszt is left alone; he goes to the piano...)
Meanwhile back upstairs, Mozart passes Tchaikovsky in the hall - then stops him.
Mozart: Hey, Pyotr - done with cards already?
Tchaik: ah, don't talk to me about cards. Richard is ruthless.
Mozart: Well you should have guessed that going in... but .. er.. (holds up bra) Is this yours?
Tchaik(appalled): What! NO. Where did you get that!?
Mozart: Charles's room.
Tchaik: hah! MORE reason for it not to be mine!
Mozart: Ah, sorry - I thought it was your color.
Tchaik: That tawdry color ! - what must you think of me, Wolfgang.. (takes bra, has to smile) You don't know the first thing about bras, do you??
Mozart(mock tragedy, hand to forehead): Ah, outpranked, outpranked, the prankster makes a hasty exit stage left! (waltzes off, snickering. Tchaikovsky is now curious, and peeks into Ives's room. Bach is sitting on the bed across from Ives. Ives appears to be awake, so Tchaik comes in.)
Tchaik: Hey guys -
Ives: Hi Pyotr. What have you brought me?
Tchaik: ah.. I think I was returning something, actually - (holds up bra) Wolfgang says this came from here.
Bach: But he just took it-
Tchaik(smirks): He thought it was mine.
Ives: no no! (sits up like a proud 6th grader with the correct answer) No, it came from Johannes's drawer!
Bach: hah!
Tchaik: egh- (drops it delicately) I'm sorry it's contaminated no less than TWO other residents of this house!
Ives: Don't leave it in the middle of the floor - what would Richard think??
Bach: He'll probably mistake it for one of his acquaintance's... (they laugh)
(Enter Mussorgsky)
Muss: Whatsthis - some sort of slumber party? (notices bra on the way to his dresser) pick that uppyotr, its not polite to leave your crap all over the place.
Bach: hahahaha
Tchaik: What!! That is NOT mine. It belongs to one of your roommates!
Muss(matter-of-fact): well Idonknow who - none of them would look good in that color. (finds his notebook) ah all right
Ives: Modest, don't you mean you've come to wish me well?
Muss: I told you to get your TheraFlu two days agoifi remember correctly. (turns and regards him skeptically) Youre all bedridden now. itsjust a cold!
Ives(righteously): I'm too weak to go to work today.
Muss: Your muscleswill atrophy and the consumptionwill kick in. then well get you one ofthose Invacare Powered Mobility Products. thats what youll need.
Ives: Good God - do you know how much those cost?! (coughs)
Bach: Don't strain yourself now-
Muss: Theydont say how much they cost on TV. theyre too wise for that. well im off to write up some music. feel better. (exit)
Ives(pause): .... Orange Juice.
Bach: Ok.. I'll see if there's any left. There was this morning. (exit)
But little do our heros know that in the kitchen this very moment Hildegard is opening the refrigerator and taking out the orange juice. Wagner sits at the table scribbling furiuosly in a notebook.
Hildegard: Richard, what are you working on?
Wagner: The politics of animal cruelty in Whiskas commercials.
Hildegard: Oh?! (concerned) I confess I hadn't payed much attention - I don't watch TV.. but I can imagine - yet in a product FOR cats? Cruel irony.
Wagner: It is indeed. (continues writing)
Hildegard(pours glass): Hm.. we're almost out of orange juice. Should I finish it? (looks at near-empty carton) Well, I suppose there's enough for another glass..
(Enter Beethoven, hair ruffled. He stands in the middle of the kitchen and looks around as if lost.)
Hildegard: What's the matter, Ludwig?
Beethoven: Headache.
Hildegard: What - not a migraine, I hope? I get the worst ones.
Beethoven: mm, not bad enough for divine inspiration yet..(spots the orange juice) Dont put that away. (turns abruptly and walks out, muttering to himself) .. modest.. vodka..
Hildegard: Why do they always try to subvert the pains of inspiration?
Wagner(not looking up): That one doesnt need to suffer, he has an intrinsic understanding of Art. (Hildegard raises an eyebrow - Beethoven returns, one hand on his forehead, the other clutching a bottle of Russian vodka)
Beethoven: Modest is a good man. (he seizes the carton of orange juice, and pours a good 4-shots worth of the vodka straight into it. He drinks.)
Hildegard: Ludwig, we have glasses too, you know.
Beethoven: (still drinking)
Wagner: Remind me one day to write an article comparing you to Rousseau's natural man.
Beethoven(finishes OJ, chucks carton in the trash): Ahhh, thats better.
Wagner: Although the French don't deserve the association.
(Enter Bach, who goes straight to the refrigerator)
Bach: awww, someone finished all the orange juice.
Hildegard: I didn't know we were supposed to be saving it.
Bach: no, just Charles thought a little might help his cold.
Hildegard: Oh! He stayed home today!! I sensed that the house dynamic had changed - of course - Don't you worry about it, JS, I'll go right to him. He doesn't need orange juice. He needs hibiscus flower, echinacea, milk thistle root... (walks out, talking to self)
Bach: Well! I guess he's in capable hands
Wagner: Or she'll kill him.. It's all the same to me..
(Enter Strozzi)
Strozzi: Hi guys - er, where exactly is the laundry room?
Bach: It's the second door on the left under the stairs.
Strozzi: I thought that was the hall closet.
Bach: Maybe it's the first. It's not the third.
Strozzi: I'll figure it out - I may put off laundry until tomorrow anyway.
Soon Hildegard appears in Ives's room, where Tchaikovsky and he are having a heart to heart.
Tchaik: And she refuses to do the homework!
Ives: Oh no, that's not good. (sniffles) You have to just put your foot down with these delinquents.
Tchaik: Counterpoint is a matter of practice! (frowns) I think she senses that I'm not much of a practicer myself..
Ives: If she hasn't called you a hypocrite yet, that means she's oblivious because there's no way a student wouldn't use that against you..
Tchaik(shakes head): I don't want to be the evil monster!
Ives: No, you have to show them who's boss!
(Enter Hildegard)
Hildegard: What's all this about male domination?!
Ives: Oh no
Tchaik(chuckles): I just have this student in counterpoint who needs to pass, but she won't do her homework.
Hildegard: Then she doesn't think she needs to pass, does she?
Tchaik: er..
Hildegard: Well, that's her problem. (addresses Ives) Charles, I've brought you some tea.
Ives: I've already had tea. I was hoping for orange juice.
Hildegard; no, this is special tea. It has echinacea to boost your immune system, hibiscus flower for cholesterol, milk thistle root for liver -
Ives(wide-eyed): I'm not DYING!
Hildegard: No, you're not. Drink. (pushes tea at him; he sniffs experimentally)
Ives I can't smell, what am I doing?
Hildegard: Drink.
Ives: Ok, ok - my goodness, Hildegard, you sound like a frat boy.
Tchaik: Hahaha!
Ives(takes a sip): Mmm, it's not bitter.
Hildegard; No, that's what the stevia leaf is for. All-natural, safe and noncarcinogenic sweetener! -- the only reason it's not sold here is because the DRUG- excuse me - "SUGAR" companies won't allow it to ruin their billion-dollar business! No one fully understands the extent of the evil Sweet 'N Low Empire!
Ives(watching wearily over the tea cup): uh... "safe" you said?
Hildegard: Yes.
Ives: Have there been any medical studies-
Hildegard: It's been in use for thousands of years!
Ives: So has tobacco.
Hildegard: You've just been brainwashed by the system. I'll tell you more about it when you're lucid again. Now stop thinking negative thoughts and focus on recuperating. (she holds her arms out toward him - stops suddenly and turns to Tchaik) Pyotr, let me tend to the sick.
Tchaik(pouts): Ok. I'll find something else to do. (starts to leave) Or maybe I will point out the strange neon blue bra on the floor..? (walks out)
Hildegard: WHAT-
Ives(chuckles/coughs): Oh that. Yes, Johannes found it in his drawer.
Hildegard: Insufferable! (sharp intake of breath) But I have not come here to judge... God knows it doesn't do any good - ahem, yes, I have come to heal you.
Ives: Uh...?
Hildegard: Drink your tea...
By the time Zacara returns home at 5:30, the house has settled and Ives has even fallen asleep. Of course the second Zacara walks in, the house activity level goes from "Settled" back to "Uncomfortably Roused."
Zacara(dumps his briefcase in the front hallway): MAIL!
Mussorgsky: Magister Zacherias! (walks into hall with letters in hand) you got somemore mail, you getalot of mail i find that suspicious
Zacara: Why?
Mussorgsky: because its not all from creditcardd companies like mine
Zacara(takes letters possessively): Some of it's business, some of it's not.
Mussorgsky: yeahwell.. no ones cooked you dinner and were out of orange juice (returns to den)
Zacara: .... Orange Juice! (storms to kitchen) Where's Charles! He should be HOME by now! It's 5:33!
Wagner(walks into hall): He stayed home today. He came down with that illness from Sunday.
Zacara(incredulous): What!
Wagner: He'll probably lose a lung to pleurisy in the next week, but he maintains that it's a mere head cold. (adds quietly) He's too embarrassed to acknowledge the full extent of the disaster. Perhaps I should dispense some advice to the poor fool. (goes upstairs)
Zacara: What! - but-
(Hildegard and Strozzi walk out of the den)
Hildegard: Antonio, don't believe Richard's nonsense. You know how he loves to epicize everything. Charles will be fine by tomorrow.
Zacara: Well. Where's Johann Sebastian?
Hildegard: Church - he mentioned something about a concert tonight.
Zacara: So must I cook for myself AGAIN! (goes to kitchen)
Stozzi: Oh, you can cook for me too.
Zacara: Hah! Only if you make the salad.
(A few minutes pass in relative tranquility, until the angry voice of Wagner can be heard emanating from the upstairs hallway.)
Wagner: What unholy SOPHISTRY is afoot!!
Schumann(sticks head out of den into hallway): Great Flying Wombats!
Wagner(storms downstairs - glares at Schumann): I suppose YOU have some idea what is to account for this atrosity being found on MY bed? (holds up turquoise bra)
Schumann: Oh. I didn't know you were opposed to those.
Wagner: Pft - Not intrisically opposed to the object itself; however, such items only exist so they may be removed and discarded. I myself refuse to be the recipient of such an object - DISCARDED on my bed! WHOSE IS THIS?
Strozzi(from kitchen): Wasn't Charles trying to sleep?
Wagner: He's unconscious, I checked. WHOSE -
(Enter Brahms from living room - he heads for the kitchen, but Wagner accosts him)
Wagner: Brahms. You frequent my room - perhaps you have seen this?? (holds bra at him)
Brahms(hand to head as if in confusion): What IS that?
Wagner(delicately deposits it on his shoulder): My bed is not the place for sordid souvenirs left by your so-called "female friends" - know that my personal living space will not be used as someone else's garbage disposal! (strides away)
Schumann(shrugs): Look on the bright side, my dear -that color isn't bad on you.
Brahms: Thanks, Robert.
Zacara: Does someone want to come in here and chop up some broccoli!?
3am, Ives rolls over and finds himself awake.
Ives: mmph... (looks at clock) Dear god, is it only 3:03? How long have I been asleep? ..... uh... (sniffs, can smell) It's worked! I can breathe again! (he can hear someone snoring) .... Perhaps I should get back to sleep... If only I weren't hungry.....