The Great Basement Debate
It's bright early morning at the house - Bach and Zacara are already in the kitchen cooking for the first breakfast shift at 545.
Bach: So... what exactly did the note say?
Zacara: Heh heh.. I'm sure we'll be hearing about it shortly.
(The sound of footsteps catches their attention - they turn to the doorway; enter Ives)
Ives: Good morning!
Bach: Hi, Charles. We were just talking about Barbara's renovation plans.
Ives: Hah - I thought she was leaving it to the Bohemians?
Zacara: That's the plan.
(More footsteps - Bach and Zacara grin at each other. Enter Brahms, scowling and brandishing a small piece of paper.)
Brahms: What in God's name is this nonsense??
Zacara: you sound like Richard!
Brahms(not amused): I said "God's name," not "MY name."
Bach: Didn't you know we had a basement?
Brahms: I don't care if we have a basement - I do care about this suddenly being roped into "renovating" it. Whose brilliant plan was that?
Ives: Barbara's.
Brahms(eyes narrow): I'll have to talk to her.
Bach: It's not only you. Robert, Wolfgang, Richard, Ludwig, and Modest should also have... similar wake-up notes.
Brahms: Not the sort of notes I want to wake up to. (sits at table - neatly set already)
Bach: Here, eat. (dumps omelette on plate)
Brahms: Is that your solution to every problem?
Bach(grin): one of them...
Throughout the morning, the other selected housemates express their disbelief at the existence of the basement. Beethoven is accosting Strozzi in the hallway at this very moment..
Beethoven: .... we have a basement?
Strozzi: Yes.
Beethoven: When did that happen?
Strozzi: I don't know...
(Wagner comes storming down the stairs, each footstep thundering to match his angry expression.)
Wagner: What - QUATSCH - whose foul joke is this!
Beethoven(to Strozzi): Would you like a glass of water?
Strozzi: Yes, I'm rather thirsty actually. (exeunt to kitchen. Wagner remains on the penultimate step, glaring about the hallway and foyer)
Wagner: BY THOR! What BASEMENT! - What Nonsense!
Brahms: ..you do sound like me.
(Wagner looks to his right to find Brahms standing in den doorway, arms folded petulantly.)
Wagner: What do you mean I sound like you? If anything, you sound like a watered-down, insubstantial version of me!
Brahms: That's quite the compliment, Richard..
Wagner: I KNOW! (steps down) Now am I to assume you have received a similar such incriminating letter? (waves the paper at Brahms as if he hasn't ever seen one before)
Brahms: Did it involve the phrase "workless Bohemians"?
Wagner: YES.
Brahms: That's the one.
Wagner: Oh stinging insult to think I have been the recipient of a FORM letter - It made no attempts even, to impress upon its reader why I - Richard Wagner - should be the one and ONLY man capable of doing justice to such a task! (glares at Brahms) They sent the same letter to a Brahms - what--
Brahms: I agree whole-heartedly, Richard. You're the only member of this household with the intellect, spirit, foresight to even begin to undertake an enterprise of such grand consequence. This is a one-man job - why, you should be building your own basements...
Wagner: Absolutely!! (takes one monstrous step forward - then freezes in his tracks) Wait. ... (turns slowly) If you're suggesting, Mr. Brahms, that none of you lesser intellects should have ANY doings in the affair, I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken. It may take but one genius to foresee the figure of the mighty Colossus, but it requires an army of everymans to bring the dream to fruition! You will be painting.
(Wagner storms off; Brahms leans his head back against door frame and closes his eyes in pain.)
Meanwhile in the living room: Robert Schumann approaches the sofa where Mussorgsky is sitting.
Schumann: .... Modest??
Mussorgsky: mm. Look at this art! (gestures to TV, which is showing some news brief about a local artist)
Schumann: oooh. That gnome looks like one of those nasty species next door.
Mussorgsky: What nextdoor?
Schumann: Haven't you seen them?? Ach, well - there's a worse plot afoot. Have you received.. (leans in closer and whispers) The Letter?
Mussorgsky(glances at him suspiciously): ... letter?? I'm justtrying to watch TV here (scoots away)
Schumann(perplexed): It should have been on your bed, if the pattern continues as it has.. OH! Perhaps you have been singled out, my friend!
Mussorgsky: Bed?
Schumann: .... Or perhaps you have not been to your bed?
Mussorgsky: wait theres a letter on my bed? isthat what youre trying to say?
Schumann: Yes, if my senses are correct.
Mussorgsky: aghh, ill just have to go totha exhibit myself. (turns off TV, stands and stumbles a few steps forward) ohh. (painful stretch) maybe i should go anyway. Ok.. bed. right.. (exit)
As he enters the hallway, Mussorgsky almost walks into Tchaikovsky, who is rushing to the front door.
Tchaik: lessons today! lessons!
Mussorgsky: thats early i thought
Tchaik: Yes, but I have to pick up some assignments first and I have some meeting.. I'm always running behind on Tuesdays and Thursdays! Agh!! (slams door - Mussorgsky frowns as the force of rushing air whips up his hair. He turns back to the staircase - Wagner appears from the kitchen, dragging Beethoven along by the sleeve; Brahms is still lounging in the den doorway)
Wagner: Modest - have you received a letter concerning the basement?
Mussorgsky(laughs): Ohhhhhh the basements come out of the closet then hahahah
Wagner(frowns delicately): That's one way of putting it. COME! Let us inspect the mayhem! (goes to the third door and wrenches it open)
Beethoven: I need to compose. (tugs his arm away from Wagner)
Wagner: Ah - well I suppose one must work when the inspiration strikes! Go, my friend - be productive.
Beethoven: (walks off)
Wagner(calls around staircase to Brahms): You there - Brahms, come inspect the basement with us.
Brahms: I thought it only took one genius to foresee the great future-
Wagner(matter-of-factly): It does.
(He marches forth into the furnace room and down the back stairs; Mussorgsky and Brahms trail along reluctantly)
Mussorgsky: i wonder when we redefined "genius"
Brahms: I think you slept through that.
Wagner: What! WOLFGANG-
Brahms: Uh oh..
Mussorgsky: Wolfgang you better open that keg!
(They reach the bottom of the stairs and can see Wagner staring in disapproval at the pool table, where Mozart is stretched out as if sunbathing.)
Mozart: Hi guys. I thought at least one of you would have come down earlier. Then again, our "responsible housemates" neglected to mention the keg, so I can understand the lack of motivation...
Wagner: It's so dark down here - how is the human spirit expected to thrive in such a dank tomb? Look at this sofa! (kicks at the lumpy blue thing against the left wall) And these penitentiary draperies need to go. (rips down the dark green curtains at the little window- sunlight streams into the room)
Mozart(covers head): OH mine eyes! Mine eyes!
Wagner: yes, I think a pale and delicate shade of pink may be the proper way to go for curtain color..
Mussorgsky: eh... that could work..?
Brahms: If you're putting up pink curtains, I'm painting the walls brown.
Wagner: Quatsch! You'll do no such thing - brown is too dark! It's already a prison in here!
Mozart(sits up Indian-style on pool table): Ohh, this promises to be good entertainment: When Musicians Redecorate! It's like When Animals Attack, except bloodier.
Mussorgsky: Thats not something youshould be looking forward to.
Wagner: Another question: Carpet?
Brahms: Dust bunnies.
Wagner: Are you going to disagree with everything I say!?
Brahms: You asked a question. I couldn't disagree if I wanted to.
Wagner: No, the question was not "Should there be carpet?" Rather, it was "What color and texture should the carpet be?" You see, in this context, "dust bunnies" is not an acceptable answer, as it attempts to undermine the basic premise; namely, that There Should Be Carpet.
Mussorgsky: now Johannes has a point about the carpet though you dont want any of that thick fluffy crap which encourages dust and allergens, but definitely a level loop carpet that wont allow permanent pool table and footprint marks. (the others stare at him) I suggest berber since thatsthe strongest and most durable of the level loops, and wool doesnt promote bacterial growth ands easy to clean. notto mention the offwhite color would be noninstrusive but have a brightening effect.
(silence as Mussorgsky wanders to the keg and looks about for a glass)
Wagner: But... berber comes in a variety of colors.
Mussorgsky(significantly): I said off-white.
Mozart: Ohh, dem's fightin' words - I don't know if you want to take on Modest concerning carpet color, Richard. (whispers loudly) He could take you.
Wagner(affronted): I beg your pardon!
Brahms: Can I go yet?
Wagner: What for?! - counterpoint exercises? You should stay here and learn a little something about aesthetics.
(Brahms sits on the sofa - it promptly collapses under him and sprays dust about the room)
Wagner(coughing): hem - ahg - what -- are you trying to be as obnoxious as possible!
Brahms(coughing): I hate dust!
Mozart: hahahahah!
Mussorgsky: What goodisa keg with no glasses!! (notices the dust cloud wafting toward him) Whatd you do?
Mozart(holding his nose): See, Modest, you let the Romantics in and whole place goes to hell.
Wagner(waving his beret to disperse the dust): Now now - we must plan. (He and Mussorgsky join Mozart at the pool table) Carpet. Curtains. Couch. A decent table. The TV should be set up in that corner (turns facing away from the stairs and holds up his hands to frame the right spot) Yes. The Grand Entertainment System, I should say..
Mozart: Actually, I don't think we should have a TV. There's one in the living room.
Mussorgsky: Thats mine
Wagner: No, I'll foot the bill. I won't have you purchasing inferior technology. This room demands top quality.
Mozart: This room has a pool table. One can't concentrate with the TV going - its worse than your Wagnerian caterwauling.
Wagner: The TV is not meant to be background noise while you play pool. It is an end in itself!
Mozart: (sits up, slight hint of frown) You can redecorate, put up pink curtains - I'll even let you buy a table for drinks. But you can't come down here and expect to impose a noisy, brainless television on the POOL room.
Wagner(long intake of breath): ..... Oh... I see. So. You are all against me.
Brahms(stretched out on sofa, hands behind head): I suppose the Pool Room of the Future isn't as appealing as you thought.
Wagner: There's no accounting for taste. I suppose I shall leave you to wallow in your dust while I recruit the thinking members of this household to help me plan our renovation. (marches off)
Mussorgsky: good job guys
Mozart: Oh, no, it was all your berber suggestion.
Mussorgsky: Nah
Mozart: game of pool?
Mussorgsky: yeah all right
Meanwhile, Robert Schumann is interrogating Barbara Strozzi in the kitchen as she tries to prepare brunch. She is stuck at the stove watching her soup, and Schumann paces back and forth in agitation.
Schumann: I knew it!
Strozzi: Knew what, Robert?
Schumann: The basement. The floor was much too resonant for it to be otherwise. Hannes didn't believe me. Although he does believe me with the lawn gnomes.
Strozzi: I don't believe you about the lawn gnomes.
Schumann: There's always one doubting Thomas. -- But you - you, dear lady, have orchestrated this basement affair.
Strozzi: Affair? It was hardly my doing.
Schumann: How are WE (gestures to himself pathetically) to be responsible for its renovation??
Strozzi: We could leave it to Modest...
Schumann: (hand on chin) Ahh, true. But does he have the inner eye?
Strozzi: (staring into his) Do YOU?
Schumann: .... (shifty-eyed glance around room) Not when it comes to basements.
Strozzi: (back to stirring the soup pot) Well then we can pool our talents, as a house.
Schumann: Yes... I fear we shall have to do the same concerning our creeping neighbors.. (glances out window) No sign of the enemy as of yet... Although Ludwig seems to be passed out.
Strozzi: Natural causes, d'you think?
Schumann: .... or not.. (runs out)
Strozzi: Doubting Thomas? At least one Conspiracy Theorist.
(Enter Wagner embroiled in discussion with Hildegard)
Wagner: -the sloth and indecency engendered by basement living... its unthinkable
Hildegard: If one thinks of it as a basement, yes.
Wagner: SQUALOR!
Hildegard: See it, rather, as a multi-functional, nurturing space.
Wagner: The home of the Grand Entertainment System. Unfortunately the vision-less Philistines can't fathom...
Strozzi: Is this ALL everyone is talking about?
Wagner: Yes! We have a basement! It's something to discuss.
Strozzi: We really do need jobs.
Hildegard: We'll need to convince those slackers that the time they spend not composing could be put to equally productive uses!
Wagner(frowns): Perhaps we should phrase it "more productive"...?
Hildegard: Come, let's put them back into shape.
Wagner and Hildegard return to the basement, where a game of cutthroat is in progress. Mussorgsky is holding his cue stick in concern and staring at the confusing array of balls on the table. Mozart grins from the sidelines with a mug of beer. Brahms, eyes shut on the couch, would appear not to be involved in the game except for the cue stick leaning against the wall next to him.
Mussorgsky: Uhh.. which set am I?
Mozart: You're 6-10.
Mussorgsky: ...so I can hit anything thats not 6-10 right?
Mozart(takes a swig of beer): Yep.
Mussorgsky: So... why are there still no shots?
Mozart: hah. (notices Brahms) Hey, Johannes, it's only 11:30, I hope you're not so tired yet.
Brahms(not opening eyes): This is not fatigue. This is a realistic assessment of my having a shot this game. You're next, aren't you?
Mozart(evil snicker): Actually, now that you mention it... I am...
Wagner(walks over): Excuse me, Gentlemen - is this your idea of a "Productive morning"?
(Mussorgsky, who has been lining up a shot, now startles and miscues - the cue ball rolls into a pocket)
Mussorgsk: Agh -- HEYYY
Hildegard(surveying the room in distaste): Such hedonists - all you need is some female strippers and this will be your perfect den of sloth and iniquity!
Mozart: hey - Yeah!
Brahms: There's no pole.
Mozart: Ah, we have cue sticks. (starts dancing)
Mussorgsky: Thatsenoughofthat
Hildegard: INSUFFERABLE!
Wagner: This party needs to break up. I suggest we divy up the chores. Someone needs to clean this mess - another should be sent off to buy paint.
(A click from the pool table indicates that Mozart has resumed the game and knocked a ball in..)
Hildegard: Oh yes, we need real-milk paint - non-allergenic and non-toxic.
Brahms(sarcastically): Is it organic too?
Hildegard: Of course! (glares at him, he still hasn't opened his eyes) I think you should be the one to go retrieve it, Johannes.
Brahms: rmm. I don't know anything about it.
Wagner: Honestly, Hildegard - do you want to leave him in charge of picking out a paint color?? He threatened to get brown!
(click)
Hildegard(calmly): Ignorance is an excuse easily overcome - Johannes - (he doesn't move) Are you paying attention! (he opens an eye) You have to go up main street to the 500 block to Main Street Art Supply Company, and once you're there ask for "Yellow Ochre." Can you remember that?
Brahms: Isn't that redundant - "yellow ochre"?
(click)
Hildegard(superciliously): Ochre could be any of several earthy mineral oxides occurring in yellow, red or brown shades. Get two cans.
Wagner: A light yellow ochre will go marvelously with the pale and delicate pink curtains. I shall pick them out. As shall I choose the Grand Entertainment System.
Mozart(stands up in the middle of a shot): Now I thought we concluded that a TV was unnecessary.
Wagner: No, you said that. But in a case like this, good taste and common sense must have the deciding voice.
Hildegard(still to Brahms): Are you just going to lie there all day?
Brahms(groans, but gets up): Ohhh, you're right. I suppose we'd better redecorate the basement before the coming apocalypse actually gets here..' least then I will be able to say I have made ONE contribution to humanity before my soul is whisked off to the depths of hell ... (wanders out)
Mozart(lining up shot): This is the pool room.. It's made for quiet thinking.. composing..(sinks another ball - click) and complete humiliation of your opponents.
Hildegard: Men - always thinking competitively. (shakes head)
Mussorgsky: Whydont we.. putitup to vote tonight??
Wagner: Certainly! The true democratic process will reveal the proper solution. For only on the shoulders of the People can true Art lift itself from its present state of civilized barbarism..
Mozart: (looks appealingly toward the ceiling)
Hildegard: All right - that's fair. We'll have to arrange a vote this evening.. Good luck..(to Mozart and Mussorgsky) You two should start cleaning up so we can begin painting when Johannes returns... If he can manage, that is..
Meanwhile, Schumann is trying to revive Beethoven in the backyard.
Schumann(shaking him and whispering): WAKE UP!
Beethoven(sits up angrily): I'm THINKING. Or trying to.
Schumann: Oh. Well, composing? or plotting?
Beethoven: Neither now.. (Their attention is caught by the sound of a door closing - they turn to the neighbor's house)
Schumann: Ahh! Come, the enemy makes a move. (sneaks to the bushes and peeks through; Beethoven follows with a shrug. Schumann points at the lawn gnome collection) Look - they have multiplied in number and -- OH! bold deceivers, now they are audacious enough to move during the very light of day! (Indeed, there is movement in the garden: a rather large head of black hair-- Beethoven squints)
Beethoven: That's not a lawn gnome - that's our neighbor!
Schumann: Shhh! He's their leader.
Beethoven: No, no.. He's some composer, I think.. Schu-something or.. Schobart.. Schobert? Schubert? Egh, one of those. He's always having poetry-reading groups out there. You'd know if you spent more time outside.
Schumann: Hmmm. Perhaps you would like to be our spy?
Beethoven: I don't care, Robert.
Schumann: "Composer", eh? I wonder what..?
Beethoven(turns to go): songs or something.. piano music. You could always ask..
Schumann(frowns in consideration): One should exercise caution interrogating neighbors wielding garden hoes..
Soon at Main Street Art Supply Company, we find Brahms wandering through the aisles, smoking and scowling at the bewildering selection of paints. He turns the corner into yet another aisle of paint, where a young sales representative is rearranging cans. She smiles at him, until she notices the cigarette.
SalesRep: Excuse me, sir, I have to ask you to put out your cigarette. Smoking is strictly prohibited in our store.
Brahms(smiles obligingly): Of course, forgive me.. I wouldn't want the toxic fumes to overpower the smell of paint.
SalesRep: (smiles) Did you need any help?
Brahms: ... Actually, I'm looking for "real milk paint" in the yellow ochre color.
SalesRep: Uh.. I think we have that. I just have to check the computer.. This way. (she heads to the front of the store. Brahms trails along, reading the names of paint colors in droll amusement.)
Brahms: .... pumpkin sunrise..
(He turns the corner and walks smack into a person.)
Zacara: EGH! Watch where you're going!
Brahms: .... Antonio?
Zacara(stands back, amused): Heh. Johannes. What are you doing here?
Brahms(mock enthusiasm): We're redecorating the basement! I've been sent to get "real milk paint" in the particular shade of Yellow Ochre.
Zacara: Good God - who picks out these colors? You'd think a bunch of musicians would have at least some affinity for interior design..
Brahms: It should match splendidly with Richard's pink curtains... (The SalesRep, now at the counter, looks over her shoulder, disturbed) So what are you doing here?
Zacara: Ehhhh, boss needs "supplies."
Brahms: Is he redecorating too?
Zacara: It's not open to public discussion, actually. Sorry.
Brahms: At least you get paid to run errands.
Zacara: And how! - I should really have my own house by now, but I prefer the free maintenance. (snickers)
SalesRep: Uh, Sir?? We have your paint.
Zacara(notices employee): Oh, charming assistance calls to you.
Brahms(scoffs): wonderful.
Zacara: I must away.. not so charming management calls.. (exit)
Armed with the proper paint, Brahms returns home and makes his way to the basement. It's already been cleaned - the pool table and keg are now in the middle of the room, and newspapers are strewn around the base of the walls, more as a nod to the idea of covering the floor, rather than as any real protection. Mozart, Hildegard, Wagner, Mussorgsky, and Strozzi are standing around the table plotting when Brahms comes in.
Mozart: Ahh, here is our returning hero - see his triumphal procession down the stairs with a can of paint in either hand, like Beowulf with the head of Grendel's mother!
Strozzi: Oh good, you got the right paint.
Hildegard: Amazing.
Brahms(smirk): Am I to assume you weren't expecting my return? Is that how to account for the sofa in my parking spot?
Hildegard: No, that you should interpret as a sign to quit parking where the trash and recycling trucks stop.
Mozart: It was that or put it on Richard's car.. I'm not sure he would have appreciated it..
(Hildegard and Strozzi take the paint, divy supplies, etc)
Brahms: Yes, but I had to park in Pyotr's spot... and when he comes he'll park in Charles's spot, and so on.. until Antonio comes home and just parks in the middle of the street.. Speaking of Antonio, I ran into him at the paint store.
Wagner: Paint store? Shouldn't he be working?
Brahms: It was for work. He wouldn't elaborate.. just said it was for "the boss."
(thoughtful pause)
Strozzi: ..... what exactly does Antonio do?
Hildegard: Ah, now that's a question we've been pondering for some time.. No one can really figure it out. He makes a suspiciously high amount of money, high enough not to disclose..
Wagner: well, well, No use speculating. If one cares enough, he or she should just ask!
Mussorgsky: maybe we should just put thatup to the vote too.
Brahms: Has he been drinking all this time?
Mozart(grin): I've been encouraging him.
Hildegard: Oh come on, let's get at least one wall done before the day's shot..
With their combined efforts, the entire basement is painted by dinner time. (Mussorgsky has spilled only one cup of paint.) They are now lounging upstairs, because milk paint doesn't smell very appetizing. Enter the work force.
Bach: It's like a 5-car pile up!
Tchaik(already home, enters the foyer to meet them): It wasn't my fault! There was already a car in my spot!
Ives: Now that's the last thing a man needs to come home to!
Zacara: BRAHMS-
(Cut to piano room, where Beethoven is improving at the keyboard and Brahms and Schumann are playing chess)
Beethoven: what'd you do?
(Enter Hildegard, with the work force behind her)
Hildegard: This is the perfect time for us to vote! You gentlement wait here - I'll gather the others.
Zacara(to Brahms): Does this have to do with your excursion to Main Street Art Supply Company today?
Brahms: There was a sofa in my spot when I came home.
Ives: Does this have to do with the BASEMENT?
(Enter Hildegard with Wagner, Strozzi, Mussorgsky, and Mozart. They mill about in the middle of the room since there's no place to sit.)
Hildegard: Ok, housemates. We need to vote on the use of our basement.
Strozzi: Is everyone here?
Wagner: Franz is out, but I shall vote for him. Now my comrades, we have an opportunity at hand - we must take full advantage of the God-given basement; we must use it for the furthering of our intellectual boundaries. In light of this, I suggest we convert said basement to a housemate-oriented (glares at Mozart) NON-discriminatory entertainment room equipped with the technological grand television and surround sound system of the future!
Mozart: We already have a TV. We can't turn our basement into a movie theater.
Wagner: I know this seems like a major investment, but fear not - I shall foot the bill.
(various "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" from the group)
Brahms: With whose money???
Wagner(condescendingly): I fear no lack of patronage. It's the least the world owes me..
Zacara: I'm willing to let Richard renovate the basement, sure, if he's willing to pay for it all, why not?
Tchaik: Yeah, it would be nice to relax and not be subjected to SVU all the time (glares at Mussorgsky)
Mussorgsky: Hey its a good show it deals with deep philosophical issues
Mozart: Where is the pool table going to go??
Beethoven: We cant have multimedia blaring all day in this house. How can anyone think!
Hildegard: I agree with Ludwig.
Mozart: ALL IN FAVOR OF POOL ROOM! SAY I!
Beethoven: I.
Hildegard: I.
Bach: I.
Mussorgsky: I.. We already have a TV and I dont want that damned pool table in my living room
Wagner: Well, is that it?
Brahms: I'm still deliberating.. I like pool... but TV... ... think of the late night possibilities..
Hildegard: Get a computer!
Brahms: Maybe if Richard will foot the bill for that...
Wagner: Let's not argue, my friends! Only 5 are in favor of keeping the basement as it is. That makes 7 of us who are in favor of Progress. And one who refuses to make a commitment.
Ives: I'm only counting six.
Wagner: Franz. Don't forget.
Mozart: You can't vote for him -
(As if on cue, Liszt throws open the front door and waltzes in for a grand entrance -- He pauses immediately as he notices all his housemates crammed into the piano room directly to his left. He stands back and addresses the crowd.)
Liszt: Hello now, what's all this??
Group: FRANZ!
Liszt(smile): I never expected such a warm welcome. What's the debate?
Wagner: Trenchant observation, my friend. You see we are discussing our new-found basement. Some members of this household would hinder progress in the name of "artistic solitude," which anyone can get when he steps outside- I have moved that we re-make the basement--
Liszt: Oh yes, I had a proposal. I was thinking just about this today! (turns abruptly to Strozzi, smiles graciously) I have to thank you for telling me, Barbara. Anyway, I was discussing this with a lady friend of mine (scoffing from Hildegard) who suggested the most brilliant idea, namely, that we re-make this basement into a salon!
Tchaik(suspiciously): What kind of salon?
Liszt: A place for artists and poetic thinkers to mingle and exchange ideas. Not a hair salon.
Hildegard: I should hope not.
Schumann: I like this idea!
Zacara: Yes, we could set up a bar too; think of the dividends it would reap if we instituted a cover charge..
Brahms: oh sure. We could bring in an out-of-tune upright - I'll play some waltzes, bring in a few dancing girls; it'll be great.
Bach(snickers): Incorrigible.
Wagner: No, Franz. ENTERTAINMENT SYSTEM.
Liszt: What, for those of us who can't find entertainment on our own?
Wagner(eyes narrow): I thought I could at least expect support from my own friend!
Hildegard: Let's vote again. Who's in favor of Franz's idea?
Liszt: I.
Schumann: I.
Mussorgsky: Yeh that could be interesting and you could keep the pool table. I
Zacara: As long as we charge, I am.
Mozart: Pool room? I!
Beethoven: I.
Hildegard: I.
Bach: I.
Brahms: I.
Wagner: Nonsense - now who's in favor of my suggestion? Obviously I am.
Ives: I am.
Strozzi: We could use another TV. so I vote yes.
Tchaik: I.
Hildegard: Pool room wins.
Mozart: Excellent!
Liszt: Oh no. How do you expect to bring outside ideas into this house if there's no physical space in which to exchange them?? We need a SCENE.
Hildegard: Take it to the pub.
Liszt: That's just the point - it's not a pub. It's a unique, relaxed ambience that will encourage visitors to think and-
Hildegard: We are not renovating the basement so you can seduce women. End of discussion. (pushes her way out of the room; the others can hear Liszt following her down the hall arguing "You always misrepresent my intentions!")
Brahms(to Mozart): But.. can we still have the dancing girls?
Mozart(grins): If you can sneak them past Hildegard.
Zacara: Come on, people. Let's eat! (storms out, followed by Ives and Tchaikovsky; as the crowd disperses, Beethoven walks up to Mozart and pats him on the shoulder)
Beethoven: I'm glad you won this round.
Mozart: Are you suggesting I won't win the next?
Beethoven(frowns and pauses thoughtfully): .... dont try to fight curtains..