MALL DAY!
Tchaik: Where's Antonio?
Strozzi: I thought he knew to -
(Enter Mozart and Beethoven; Beethoven has a travel mug that reeks of coffee)
Mozart: We're ready to go!
Strozzi: Oh, good. Have you seen Antonio?
Beethoven: How many people are going?
(Tchaik, not seen by Beethoven, looks astounded - looks to Strozzi for clarification)
Strozzi: It's a.. small house fieldtrip
Tchaik: A SHOPPING fieldtrip!
(Zacara comes down the stairs, followed by Wagner, Liszt, Bach, Ives, and Hildegard)
Beethoven: What... who...
Mozart: Sh. We are not all taking the same car. Besides, Modest is at the women's club meeting. We'll be fine.
Tchaik(looks worried): uh.. how are we all getting there?
Bach: Some people can car pool with me.
Strozzi: And me.
Beethoven: (grunt)
Mozart: I'll go with Ludwig!
Zacara: Yes, I think I will too... (pats jacket pocket)
Wagner: Franz and I will drive in my car. (leads the way out)
(Unfortunately, they have decided to leave at the exact moment when all the old ladies in town are trying to park near the Hickman's for the weekly meeting of the women's club, and the street is a mess. Our composers pile into their various cars which are all in their front yard. Mahler has gone to his mailbox with a few letters to mail... He stops and stares at the traffic, mayhem unraveling before him. An old woman in a crimson Dodge Dynasty is trying to parallel park in his own lawn. Wagner has no patience for this and pulls out, nearly hitting an old woman in a beige Oldsmobile. She honks. Beethoven leans on his car horn.)
Beethoven: GARHHHH!
Mahler: ..... (whips out conducting baton, marches into the middle of the street where he stops abruptly. His expression suddenly turns dark - brow furrowed, scowl in place, eyes uncannily bright - he jerks his arms up like a man possessed) HALT!!!
Wagner: What is he doing?
Liszt: I think he's planning to conduct traffic.... (adds ironically) As it were.
Mahler(shoots his glare at the woman in the Dynasty who is threatening to back over his mailbox and begonias): YOU!
(Old woman freezes, wheels over the curb; stares at him in panic.)
Mahler: WAIT. (points baton at Wagner) GO!
Wagner(affronted): What - By - How--
Liszt: Be quiet and drive, Richard - he's letting you go first, after all.
Wagner: Ah, well... At least he has his priorities straight. Of course he understands as well as anyone the profound artistic merits of Tristan und Isolde. I am in fact meeting with him tomorrow to discuss the details of a few staging problems. (drives off)
Mahler(points baton at Beethoven): Go.
Beethoven: (honks appreciatively, drives past; Mozart leans out the window and waves)
Mozart: SEE YOU TOMORROW, GUSTAV! (Mahler only nods curtly. Meanwhile, the woman in the beige Oldsmobile is getting antsy; Mahler jerks an arm in her direction; glares. The baton appears to emit small red sparks.)
OldWoman: ... Heavens to Betsy (stops again)
Mahler: (points baton at Bach, who has been waiting patiently)
Bach(rolls down window): You should let the nice lady go first.
Mahler: (eyes narrow further) .... (sweeps arm down street) GO.
Bach(shrugs; drives off)
Ives: What a strange neighbor we have!
Mahler: (sees that Strozzi is behind the wheel of the remaining car - suddenly smiles and gives a friendly flowing gesture that she should go. She blows a kiss and drives off. Mahler turns around to address the two old women who have now left their cars in terror.)
Mahler: hm... (collapses baton again, puts it in his pocket. His expression immediately lightens and he sticks the letters in his mailbox) Hmm... Car horns... what an intriguing sound... (goes back into house)
Meanwhile cut to the middle of a mall hallway where a small bonsai kiosk stands. It is named Celestial Gardens. Brahms is perched on a stool trying to write a canon when five teenagers in disgustingly baggy clothing (tents) join him.
Teen1: What the hell is boonsay?
Teen2: its those little trees.
Teen3: They're so cute!
Teen4: Whatever, theyre plastic
Brahms(arms folded): They're not plastic.
Teen5: Do you work here or something?
Brahms: (tugs at the apron he is forced to wear; it has a bright nametag "HELLO! My Name is KREISLER. HOW MAY I HELP YOU?")
Teen2: Dude, what kind of name is that?
Brahms: One that begins with a K. (glowers)
Teen3(looking at bonsai price tag): Whoa, these are expensive.
Brahms: I don't think you can afford them.
Teen4(looking at magic mist): Can you smoke this???
Brahms: Yes.
Teen2: DUDE! (tries to scoop some up in hand)
Brahms: (looks at watch - another 6 hours; sinks head into hands)
Back in the car, Beethoven is driving, Zacara is in the passenger seat, Mozart is sitting in the middle of the backseat, and leaning forward obnoxiously commenting on things they pass in the street.
Mozart: Ludwig - did you see that guy's HAIR?
Beethoven: (grunt, hands tighten around wheel)
Mozart: He appeared to have combed it!
Zacara: Nahhh-
Mozart: LOOK AT THAT GUY!! (points obnoxiously, almost poking out Beethoven's eye)
Beethoven: ARGH! I'm driving!
Zacara(reaches for Beethoven's coffee, which is of course too big to fit in the drink holder in the front): Ah... Not very well - you don't want to spill this.
Beethoven: hm
Mozart: A DOG! (points)
Beethoven: WOLFGANG-
Mozart: (grimacing) That's a very unkempt dog.. It has black dirt spots all over it!
Beethoven: It's called DALMATION!
(Zacara meanwhile slips some sedative into Beethovens coffee.)
The caravan of composers eventually reaches the mall. Beethoven is naturally in the lead car, in a hurry to get this visit over with. Wagner is following, in ill humor, as he's been trying to pass Beethoven the entire trip with no success.
Beethoven(groggily looking for a parking spot): Where in the mall do you suppose Johannes could get a job? He swore last night that he was going to have a job by the time we got here. He owes me 20 bucks if he doesn't...
Mozart: Oh--just park in front of the Hecht's, it's centrally located.
(Beethoven manuevers into a spot right in front of the Hecht's. However, it being the middle of the day, there are no other open spots anywhere nearby. Wagner curses in words not to be repeated, and leads the caravan to the multi-story parking garage. Mozart, Beethoven, and Zacara make their way into Hecht's. Beethoven immediately sits on the floor. )
Beethoven: arghhh.. what... was in that... coffeeee? I think it was decaf..
(Mozart heads over to a fellow shopper and begins flirting; Zacara stands watch over Beethoven until the others arrive.)
Mozart: What's your name?
Girl: I don't have one.
(Once everyone is assembled, Strozzi and Tchaik lead the way to the cosmetics department. Zacara and Mozart are leading Beethoven, one on each arm.)
Hildegard: What are we doing here? (suspicious glance at the makeup)
Tchaik: Oh hush, this'll be fun. (takes Beethoven by sleeve, walks up to the counter and waits primly. A youngish woman regards the group with concern, but comes over to them nonetheless.)
Salesclerk: May I help you?
Tchaik: Ludwig here wants a makeover. Complete.
Strozzi: Comprehensive.
Mozart: Compromising.. (grins)
SalesClerk: Ah... well... we have to start with the basics. Let him sit in this chair (opens magic door in the counter; Beethoven stumbles in)
Beethoven: What... HEAD...
SalesClerk: Yes, we will be focusing on your face actually... (grimaces as she inspects) What are all these pockmarks? - Here, sit first. (pushes him into chair; he tries to stand up, but Tchaik and Strozzi are there to help; Mozart pulls out his video camera. The Sales Clerk continues her inspection). Oh yes... we need a strong foundation with which we can cover these marks - Did you have acne as a teenager?
Beethoven: Rgghhh-
SalesClerk: It's ok to admit it. Many of us did.
Tchaik(sighs): I know. Those were trying years.
SalesClerk (pulls out a sample sheet of various peachy colors): First we have to match your undertones.. I think you're a winter, note these bluish undertones. (Strozzi nods sympathetically)
Zacara(whispers to Mozart): Or that could be the drugs..
Mozart: Heheheh
Salesclerk: (produces bottle of foundation, starts wiping it on Beethoven; he grumbles)
Hildegard: I cant watch... (turns away)
SalesClerk: Please stop weaving, sir - we have to match your undertones.. Now this will just provide a nice base coat -
Beethoven: arhhghg-
Tchaik: Shhh!
(Beethoven waves his arms like King Kong swatting at airplanes; Tchaik and Strozzi each grab an arm and hold them down)
CUT TO HOUSE-
Schumann stands before the bathroom mirror, covers his hands with aftershave lotion, slaps them to his face. He screams at himself like an Edvard Munch painting---
SalesClerk: Are you sure your friend's ok with this?
Strozzi: It's a birthday present.
Tchaik: He's just a little nervous..
Ives: I'm going to go check out the ties. I think there's a sale (walks off; Tchaik watches him forlornly. Soon the Sales Clerk finishes and stands back to admire her work.)
SalesClerk: Yes, that's very nice.. Now how far are we taking this makeup?
Tchaik: I think-
Strozzi: Ah, not too far - he just needs to look respectable for a date.
SalesClerk(frowns): I think he could use a little blush, and those lips are rather pale as well as chapped.
(Wagner and Liszt have been standing by, taking in this scene with discerning eyes)
Wagner(to Liszt): This is good material to discuss with the ladies, no?
Liszt: Nothing I don't already know..
Wagner: Ah. I should have known.
SalesClerk(looking at lipstick): I think Mauve Elegance would work very well to complement his natural coloration-
Beethoven: hh...
Back in the mall proper, a pudgy 30-ish man with a mustache is approaching Celestial Gardens.
Hanslick: Johannes Brahms! (Brahms is scowling, but when he recognizes Hanslick he immediately morphs into Mr. Charming.)
Brahms: Ah, Mr. Hanslick, what brings you to the mall on Sunday afternoon?
Hanslick: Actually, I was just trying to take a stroll around the block, but had to come inside before I fainted of heat exhaustion! (smiles conspiratorially) But you can't imagine how many letters to the editor I've received -- people asking for signed facsimiles of Wagner's letters! As if I have access to his signature!
Brahms: I'm sure we could arrange a deal of some sort. Perhaps he could be persuaded to lend his autograph for a mere $500 a pop. (they snicker)
Hanslick: Ah yes, but then I'd have to charge $1,000 per facsimile to make it worth the while.
Brahms(points at self): Middle man, Mr. Hanslick, middle man..
Hanslick: Of course - $1,500 per facsimile. (more snickering. Hanslick looks around, as if only now noticing the surroundings) What are you doing here?
Brahms: uh - (clears throat) I'm actually filling in for my friend - Mr. Kreisler. He's on lunch break.
Hanslick: How humanitarian of you.
Brahms Some of us like to mingle with "mere mortals" from time to time.. But you know, I was thinking of arranging a private soiree at Heinrich Schenker's - play some music of mine and my friend Robert Schumann's -
Hanslick: Oh that would be wonderful!
Brahms: So you might consider condescending to--
Hanslick: --I would be honored to come! (pulls out business card, hands to him) Here. You just let me know when. Good then. I should be off, before it gets too hot and I'm stranded here...
Back at the Hecht's...
SalesClerk: Now the final touches -
Mozart(laughing into his camcorder): This doesn't even need narration..
Zacara: This doesn't need payment.. heh
Bach: Oh, I think there will be payment, all right... just not the kind you two want.
Beethoven: agrh--
Liszt: I can't help but sympathize with Ludwig - he's like some sort of animal on display-
Wagner: He certainly looks like one with all that hair.
SalesClerk(at Beethoven): We need to emphasize these cheekbones, and deemphasize this gigantic brow of yours. Now when you go to the hair salon they will trim down these unruly eyebrows, and sideburns, which are really '70s and not at all stylish nowadays-
Beethoven: egh-
Wagner: I beg your pardon!
Liszt: Shh, that's why you stand out in the crowd, Richard.
Wagner: Well yes. That and the colorful headgear. One can never argue with a mauve beret. (tips his own beret slightly to the left)
(Beethoven, struggles under the blush brush)
SalesClerk: Try not to breathe it in.
Hildegard: Oh, I can't watch!! (storms off)
Mozart: Where - Hildegard!
Hildegard: I will be out in the mall! (exit)
Hildegard heads into the mall, where a wide variety of strange people may be seen. An old woman in a bright red jump suit wanders past, temporarily blinding Hildegard, whose color perception is greater than average.. she stumbles forward in the middle of the hall. A bevy of teenages in baggy clothing walks by.
Teen2: Dude, I wanted to smoke some of those trees-
Teen4: It was the mist stuff, not the trees-
Hildegard: Hmmm.. Could there be marijuana sales at this mall? No..
(continues)
Back in Hecht's Beethoven has been dragged into the perfume section.
Liszt: Ah - Givenchy - my personal favorite brand.
Tchaik: Oh no, that's all wrong for you. Not masculine enough.
Liszt: I beg your pardon-
Strozzi: What do you two recommend for Ludwig?
SalesClerk: Can I help you!
Beethoven(falls into Wagner, who is trying to support him): agh..
Wagner: Now, now, Ludwig - a little cologne will do wonders. (picks up a sample of a red cologne called "Joop!", sprays indiscriminately at Beethoven)
Beethoven: agoaskl (coughs)
Ives(wanders back over with a bag): I got a tie! Only $25.95! Reduced by 50%!
Tchaik: I'll be back, ok? (runs to tie section)
Ives(sniffs): Is that the new cologne? It sure smells swell!
(Beethoven continues to cough; Bach holds his nose while Mozart falls into the counter laughing.)
SalesClerk: I may have to ask you to leave unless you plan to-
Liszt: I'll have some Givenchy, yes (smiles at her, motions to the others to go) Meet you at the hair salon!
Wagner: I'll stay with Franz; Barbara, I trust you can help Ludwig.
Strozzi: Yes, yes.. (to Beethoven, as she replaces Wagner at his arm) Let's get some fresh air in the mall! (the group meanders out of the store, now having left Tchaikovsky, Liszt, and Wagner behind.)
Meanwhile:
Hildegard has spotted the Celestial Gardens kiosk - but not Brahms, as he is on the other side being rude to a customer.
Customer: How do you water it?
Brahms(straight faced): You spit at it. (demonstrates; spittle gets stuck on a branch)
Customer: That's disgusting! (storms away)
Brahms(picks up accessory): Or.. there are these little... mini-watering can...sss.. (he shrugs, then walks back to his chair - right into Hildegard, who is admiring an Azalea Chinzan.)
Hildegard: excuse me s- (recognizes housemate) What!
Brahms: Oh Jesus-
Meanwhile, the group has dragged Beethoven into the hair salon across from the Celestial Gardens Kiosk. He is sat in the front seat by the window now in full view of the cart and can see - through his hazy vision - not only Brahms and Hildegard on one side, but also the kiosk manager returning from lunch on the other side.
Mozart: Hey � what's Hildegard doing out there?
Bach: Of all the bonsai stands in all the malls in the world, she had to find Johannes's....(grins)
Zacara: Ah, those two...they deserve each other, really!
Mozart(zooms in on Celestial Gardens Kiosk): This is beginning to look like an opera buffa...The two comic leads have met on the staircase! Eh heheheh--
Hildegard(still surprised): So! This is where you've come to hide.
Brahms: Hide? Didn't you take a vow of silence and lock yourself in your room?
Hildegard: I.. needed� time to purge myself of all the recent spiritual stress I've endured.
Brahms(mutters) hope it wasn't that traumatic..!
Hildegard: In general, things have been very stressful around here lately, and No, that didn't help! (they are both staring at the bonsais, until Hildegard adds) How inconsiderate! Typical!
Brahms: What?! It's not like I planned it! No one told me what damned herb I was supposed to bring you- Do you think I would have sat there and drank the stuff?! Who knows what herbal STD I have now--(as their anger increases so do their voices, and people start to pause and observe � including the manager of Celestial Gardens)
Hildegard: WHAT! It doesn't matter what we drank � I was already half out of it � you didn't have to go jump in bed with me!
Brahms: YOU grabbed ME!!
Hildegard: I had a migraine! I�
Brahms: Isn't that an excuse NOT to have sex?!
Hildegard: You male moron! Do you understand nothing!? With that awful brunfelsia�
Brahms: --I know! I drank it too! And I don't know what brunfelsia does to women with migraines, but if you had any idea how we 'male morons' function, you might be a bit more sympathetic to one who was under the influence of a very strong aphrodisiac!!!
Hildegard: THAT'S WHAT I MEAN!!
Brahms: SO WHY IS IT ONLY MY FAULT?!
In the circle of onlookers is a 5-year-old child whose inquiry can suddenly be heard loud and clear in the fuming silence--
Julia: Mom�? whats a afro-dee-see-ack?
Hildegard and Brahms, both horrified, slowly turn and face the crowd.
Hildegard(bright red): we're in the middle of the mall, aren't we?
Brahms(also bright red): � uh�..yes�
(The manager takes this opportunity to stalk around the kiosk and seize Brahms by shoulder)
Manager: Mr. Kreisler! Why don't go home and have your personal arguments out there! While you're home you will have plenty of time to ALSO think about proper employee behavior ! YOU'RE FIRED! (turns to crowd as Hildegard and Brahms run away in different directions) I'm sorry for this inconvenience. But can I interest any of you in our charming miniature gardens?
Teen: Dude, do you sell any of that brufelsa stuff?
Beethoven(eyes go wide): RIG - RIGGGGGGEEDDD!
Hairdresser: No, no - we're not setting your hair - we're just going to wash an-
(In a sudden feat of strength, Beethoven lunges out of his hair and charges out of the hair salon, growling angrily all the while)
Mozart: HAHAHAHAH! BEST OPERA PLOT EVER!
Zacara: HAHAHAHAAH!
Bach: (chuckles)
Ives(hand to forehead): Does he know NOTHING about salesmanship! These musicians!!
Beethoven rampages into the mall, and, not having fully recovered his senses or balance, goes stumbling after Brahms like a raiding zombie.
Bach: Oh God � We can't have him charging around the mall like this! What have we unleashed!?
Zacara: I feel like Dr. Frankenstein! Hahahah!
Mozart: Quicky! AFTER HIM! (runs out, followed by Bach and Zacara; Ives remains behind to negotiate with the hair salon people.)
Cut to the other end of the mall, where a slow camera pan reveals an escalator and two young people standing on it, making out. The old man in a grey suit behind them frowns disapprovingly. No - wait - pan further left, where we can see Wagner and Liszt standing in front of the Dippin' Dots kiosk. They stare in awe; the bright blue words mesmerize them. The monolith music from Stanley Kubrick's 2001 blares in the background. Wagner raises his arms in slow, glorious victory.
Wagner: Franz! This is it!! The ICE CREAM OF THE FUTURE!!
Several hours later, Tchaikovsky returns home, weighed down with bags. A young man, also laden with bags and sporting a pair of True Religion jeans, helps him to the door and deposits the bags in the foyer.
Tchaik: Thanks, Tim!
Tim: See you later! (winks, closes door)
Mussorgsky(passing judgment from the sofa): Thats a good use forem.
Tchaik: er.. yes, thank you, Modest... Is everyone else home already? (turns and looks into the hall where the ornamental table is knocked over; plastic flowers are strewn about the hallway, except for a choice few that have been placed in an open jar of pickles. He frowns, ventures further into the house; peers into the kitchen where Bach and Ives are cooking dinner. They have reimposed some sort of organization on the room, although there are still posters taped to the ceiling.)
Tchaik: Tasteless posters.. Who likes Thomas Kinkade in this house?!
Bach: Three guesses. The first two don't count.
Tchaik: ... Modest?
Ives: He has NO taste. We think Robert is responsible for the mess we found upon our return this afternoon.
Tchaik: We should have taken him with us!!! (runs out; nearly hits Beethoven, who is rubbing madly at his cheek - his tearstained cheek) Oh - I'm sorry Ludwig - what - what's the matter? Are you having an allergic reaction!!?
Beethoven: YES! WONT... COME.... OFF!! (storms down hallway, kicks table)
Bach: That's why we haven't cleaned up the rest of the house yet. Between him and Robert... (shakes head)
Upstairs, Strozzi and Hildegard are having a heart-to-heart in their room.
Strozzi: Have you seen him, though - he's so depressed all day! I feel guilty now.
Hildegard: AND SO YOU SHOULD.. Trying to impose your ideological beauty constructs upon a true artist!
Strozzi: But... but... his hair was starting to grow weeds!
Hildegard: No matter. We must suffer certain sorrows during our lifetimes.. Look at that outrage I had to suffer today!
Strozzi(laughs): You shouldn't have gotten him fired.
Hildegard: We weren't talking about his bonsai job... Oh well, it was a public service.. I had to martyr myself for the sake of all mall patrons. One day I'll be canonized.
Strozzi: But that's ALSO put Ludwig into a depression!
Hildegard: I don't know; the rouge was a bit much.
Strozzi: Ok, we'll compromise. I'll get Johannes a job and you get Ludwig some makeup remover..