"How it Actually Happened"
Sunday morning: Bach goes to church, most of the housemates sleep in -especially Brahms, who has spent most of his morning walking in the rain and chatting with strange people at IHOP. Wagner rolls out of bed at 930, frowns discerningly at the lump in the bed across from him.
Wagner: hm... when did that one decide to come home? I should go collect my money from Franz.. ungrateful fool.
Soon Wagner has brewed himself a pot of coffee and joined Liszt in the basement. Liszt is in bad shape: paler than usual, stretched out half conscious as if he had fallen asleep trying to drag himself away from the table. Wagner towers over him pitilessly.
Wagner: What is this poor showing? Wake up.
Liszt(opens an eye): Oh! Richard -- water.... water.. (points limp finger at bar.)
Wagner: I believe you owe me money; that scoundrel Brahms didn't come home until... well, at least until after I went to bed at 1:30.
Liszt: what!! water --
Wagner: Oh fine. Where'd they put the glasses? (looks through cabinets) Ah, here's one (a highball glass. He turns on the water, inspects glass) fools, did they take dirty glasses? this one is spotted. (picks another one) Ah, fine. (fills up glass, presents it to Liszt, frowning) This water is not very cold.
Liszt(takes sip - scowls): It's HOT.
Wagner: Hot?
Liszt: Couldn't you feel it in the glass? What did you do - fill it up from the hot water faucet?? That's very inhumane of you, Richard!! I don't deser---
Wagner: I beg your pardon! I did not.
Liszt(nobly offended): Then wait until the water cools off. (hands the glass back to him)
Wagner: Quatsch... I thought beggers weren't choosers.. (tries water again; stands by for a few seconds until it cools. He runs his finger through the stream - pulls back) AGH!
Liszt: What??
Wagner: It's scalding HOT! What -- This is the COLD faucet..!! It's labelled "C"! CHICANERY!
Liszt: Ah... do you suppose Ludwig switched the hot and cold pipes?
Wagner: Well! what with your illegal gambling ring going on down here, I wouldn't be surprised if he had lost focus momentarily!
Liszt: It wasn't MY faul -- OH, I quit this protest -- help me up!
Wagner(eyes narrow): You owe me money, Franz.
Liszt(folds arms): Actually, there were bets on more than just when he'd return.. it may even out in the end. I'd have to get all the details first.
Wagner: Oh.....I understand. (sniffs indignantly) I suppose I'll have to talk to him... when he wakes up, that is... hours from now.. (starts to walk out)
Liszt: Wait!!
Wagner: (the slow turn)... yes....??
Liszt: Look, Richard - neither of us got our way with this basement ordeal. We might as well just face the facts and agree to be displeased with the others.
Wagner: I suppose that is meant to be your official concession?
Liszt: .... yes..
Wagner: In that case, I will help you. (between the two of them, they can lift the pool table enough to slide the cuff out from under the leg; Liszt stretches his arms)
Liszt: I AM FREE!!! (bolts upstairs; Wagner frowns, sips his coffee)
Later morning: Beethoven sits crossed-legged in the grass poring over some musical sketch in his notebook. He does not budge when Brahms walks over and sits next to him. There is some length of silence as Brahms sits reverently, not opening his book, not attempting conversation - just waiting for Beethoven to acknowledge him. Finally Beethoven looks up.
Beethoven: ..Ok..... Where'd you dump the body?
Brahms(noisy sigh): Where'd I dump my car is the question... I can't remember which IHOP the place was across from...
Beethoven: ..... what?
Brahms: I met the strangest person at the IHOP too... a self-avowed music theorist.
Beethoven: ..I think you need to start with where you dumped the body.
Brahms: You're asking for a long story.
Beethoven(closes his notebook): I don't have anywhere to be..
Elsewhere, Barbara Strozzi is trying to find a place to sing in peace and quiet; she peeks out the back door and sees the two B's - Brahms gesturing and explaining, Beethoven frowning in consternation.
Strozzi: He decided to come home...? Good. I'll try the front yard..
So she stations herself in the middle of the front yard under a shady oak tree. After some warm up, she launches into an aria - as if on cue, the front door to the house across the street opens. A shortish, bespectacled young fellow with a mess of black hair stalks out. Strozzi notices that he has an uneven, jerky sort of gait. He must be angry.
Strozzi(stops, calls across street): I hope I am not disturbing you, sir?!
Neighbor(picking up paper at curb - lights up): Oh no! I am only glad they delivered the paper today, so I had an excuse to come listen.. Don't stop.
Strozzi(flattered, in spite of herself): Well, maybe I shouldn't try to sing across the street. (walks over) I'll start over?
Neighbor: Please do.
Back to the back yard:
Brahms: Yeah, so the woman tells me that they have to call the guy and wake up him, and that'll take another half hour-
Beethoven(gritting teeth): Dear God...
Brahms: So I got a Snickers bar.. that 'hunger inside you' business is a bunch of bullshit - I think that was when I started to count the ceiling tiles....
Upstairs, Liszt finds Tchaik in the bathroom, leaning over the sink and meticulously trimming his goatee.
Liszt: Pyotr, what is this?
Tchaik: Don't - FRANZ! You're alive! (makes as if to embrace him - but stops short when he smells)
Liszt: Barely. I need to shower.
Tchaik: I'll say. You can have the bathroom. (takes his stuff and heads out)
Later Strozzi returns to the house with a particularly smug smile. She goes to get a drink from the kitchen, where Wagner and Hildegard are seated at the table and Mozart is trying to cook himself an omelette.
Strozzi: I don't know why you people are always so loath to go outside. We have such charming neighbors.
Hildegard: I am suspicious of the so-called "charming neighbors," at least those of the male persuasion.
Strozzi: (ignores her) I was just talking to the one who lives across from us - Gustav, he said. You know, he's the conductor and artistic director of the opera-
(Mozart and Wagner look up, suddenly very interested. Mozart plants himself directly in front of Strozzi. Meanwhile, Zacara wanders in to get a Diet Coke.)
Wagner: Opera Director? Does he have good taste?
Strozzi: Well, he liked my singing.
Mozart: Excellent - perhaps he will want to put on one of my operas.
Wagner: I was thinking the same thing.
Zacara: You think anyone could support doing a Mozart opera and a Wagner Musikdrama in the same season..?
Wagner: Well, I would put on an opera of Wolfgang's - (astonishment reigns in room) Well of course.. they are light, frivolous, silly things, but they have a certain charm and a certain something to say about the human condition, I suppose...
Mozart: (grin) Imagine, Richard - between my light, silly frivolous operas and your pompous, overblown epic ones, we might be able to attract a few dozen people to the opera next season...
Wagner(bristles): I was thinking more like a few thousand..
Zacara: Wolfgang, don't burn your omelette - I don't want to smell it.
Mozart(dashes to stove) ah! I'm so excited about an opera.. (flips omelette - catches stray green pepper with free hand) hah.
Wagner: I suppose Tristan would be a nice start...
Strozzi(smiles): I see I've created a monster here..
Hildegard: Really, they don't need any encouragement.. (pause) speaking of monsters... whatever became of our 13th housemate? Did he come home or do you think she had a brick in her purse?
Strozzi: He's back, I saw him a while ago talking with Ludwig.
Zacara: Oh yeah.. I talked to him on the way outside - he said he got in at 630 this morning.
Hildegard: WHAT!
Mozart(hands to head in mock despair): OHHHHHHH my bets all gone awry!
Wagner: Honestly.
Zacara: Yeah, he also said he did "not want to talk about it."
Hildegard: I'll bet!
Mozart: No more betting! I've learned the evil of my ways..
Wagner: You mean, the evil of Franz's ways.. he should know better than to set up the infidels on dates with his friends-
Hildegard: What - this was Franz's idea! So now he's running a dating service too! I'll have to talk to him while he's stuck in one spot! (heads for basement)
Zacara: Ah, I'm such a sucker for these amusements.. (follows with Diet Coke in hand)
In the basement, Hildegard is surprised to find Liszt missing in action; she is even more surprised to find a wet bar where there was previously only a yellow ochre-colored wall.. especially now that the wall above the wet bar is a sloppily plastered white mess.
Hildegard: When did we get a bar!
Zacara: haha - how do you like it?
Hildegard: Whose idea was that??
Zacara: Mine.
Hildegard: And you waited until AFTER we painted??
Zacara: Don't fret; I will personally purchase the necessary amount of yellow ochre milk paint next time I'm out.
Hildegard: Encouraging alcoholism - this is the last thing we need! When Modest runs out of his own stock, he'll come down here and drink.
Zacara: And free up the TV. See, it solves all the world's problems: We have pool room (gestures to the table), salon atmosphere (gestures to new couch and wet bar) AND we will reclaim the TV room... who knows, perhaps even persuade Richard to buy a better entertainment system... (snickers)
Hildegard: We don't need more alcohol -- haven't you ever talked to Modest when he's sober?
Zacara: ehhhh.. I think "sober" is a relative term with him. He told me one day that I have to understand "the plight of the Russian people" before I can fully appreciate The -- and I quote here -- "Sober-Drunk Continuum."
Hildegard: Right, and how drunk was he at the time??
Zacara(waves it off): Oh, I don't know. I don't understand the plight of the Russian people.
Hildegard(sighs): Antonio, you should know better. You're a responsible fellow--
Zacara(smirks): I suppose when you only have so many toes to worry about you have to put your efforts into something else..But I wouldn't worry about Modest. He writes his music, he manages to socialize with people, he's got that income from his family's real estate holdings, and he hasn't burned the house down yet.
Hildegard: YET. But he could be a more productive member of the household if he didn't spend half his time passed out on the sofa! Underneath the drunk, slobby exterior is a sensitive, thinking musician.
Zacara(raised eyebrow): Underneath the exterior you think? Well, go ahead and try to reform him... I'll take notes so that when I write my autobiography -- "Everything's Looking Up From Here: a Midget Musician Tells His Tale" -- people will have a good laugh.
Within the hour Liszt is showered, dressed, and ready to return to civilization. He heads downstairs and finds Beethoven sitting on the den sofa working on a crossword puzzle.
Liszt: Ah, Ludwig.
Beethoven(nods at him): ...Franz... you're alive.
Liszt: Yes, now that I've showered. (sits next to him) How are you?
Beethoven: You must want something...
Liszt: No.. Although I did want to tell you about the .. faucets down there.
Beethoven(looks up): ... Faucets? Don't they work?
Liszt: Well, yes... but.. not in the right..order.
Beethoven: (raises eyebrow)
Liszt: You see, the cold faucet produces hot water... and, I assume..(trails off)
Beethoven: Oh.
Liszt: Yes... I suppose one could.. switch the faucets.
Beethoven: They'd still be on the wrong sides.
Liszt: It's fine.. (smiles) it'll be a good point of conversation with the girls.. "Oh Ludwig is our renegade plumber.."
Beethoven: ... (sad smile) until they meet me.
Liszt: Oh no-- do you need me to set you up on a date too?!
Beethoven: I don't know.. the report wasn't too good..
Liszt: Johannes is back? I mean - he's told you about it?
Beethoven: mhhmm. but he's napping now.
Liszt: Maybe I should do that - sleep on a real bed for a change!
Beethoven: Go ahead.
Liszt: Don't worry about the faucets, Ludwig.
Beethoven: ...
Elsewhere in the house, Schumann is perched in one of the arm chairs in the TV room, staring out the right window with a pair of binoculars. Mussorgsky is nowhere to be seen, but dark strains of Russian modal music can be heard emanating from the piano room. Enter Tchaikovsky, who pauses immediately as if he has interrupted something illegal.
Tchaik: ... Robert, what are you doing?
Schumann: Ah.. the enemy has not yet moved today. It knows I am watchful.
Tchaik(joins him cautiously): What enemy? What are you looking at??
Schumann: (hands him binoculars)
Tchaik: Uh... I don't see anything.. except lawn gnomes. God, they are so gauche.. What was he thinking?!
Schumann: They were thinking for him....
Tchaik(laughs): ah.. you amuse me, Robert. (hands him back binoculars) I'm going to change the channel while Modest is out - if you don't mind..
Schumann(offended): You won't be so amused when the gnomes pop out.
Tchaik: You're right, if gnomes pop out of the TV I will not be amused..
Schumann: (to self) They must have sabotaged it...There will be vengeance wreaked...
(Enter Mozart)
Mozart: Ah, Robert here you are. Might I use your binoculars?
Schumann(frowns): They can only tell so much, I warn you.
Mozart: If you're looking for Johannes, he's in the backyard. At least that's what Ludwig said.
Schumann: HE LIVES! (drops binoculars, runs out; Mozart takes them and perches on the sofa, so that he can look out the front window for the newly discovered neighbor.)
Mozart: Hmm... no signs of life.. The yard seems to be well-manicured.. A nice understated bed of flowers around the front mailbox....
Tchaik: Do you mind keeping the inner monologue on the inside, Wolfgang? I'm trying to watch TV here.
Mozart(glances over shoulder): hah, Golden Girls doesn't count.. (looks back out) hhm... OH! What is that behind that upstairs curtain? Is that a skeleton?? Oh? how do you zoom in with these things?? (twists them around) Ah... Ok. it's a halloween orange skeleton... what a perverse thing to have hanging in your window in the middle of June! Hah! I like him!!
Tchaikovsky: shh!
(Enter Hildegard.)
Hildegard: Where's Modest?
Mozart(still looking out window): Beats me.
Tchaik(exasperated): Don't you have ears? Who else would be playing music like that? (he mutes the TV for effect; Hildegard listens)
Hildegard: Oh.. he's composing! (exit)
Tchaik: Honestly!
Meanwhile, Schumann runs to the backyard - he pauses on the porch and scans.
Schumann: What - where is he? In his tree? (he heads toward Brahms's favorite tree, but suddenly he spots a body sprawled out near the bushes bordering Schubert's yard) Twisters and rose pellets! They've killed him! (he rushes to Brahms - shakes him)
Brahms: rrggg!! Robert! (sits up)
Schumann: Oh, you're alive after all. I made it in time! What did they do to you??
Brahms: ..just slee'ing... argggg (falls back down on grass, closes eyes) idontwant to talk about it.
Schumann(nods sympathetically): That bad... there were no attempts at ritual sacrifice, I hope?
Brahms(chuckles): No, actually.
Schumann: The lady was not resonant?
Brahms: I have no idea what that means, Robert, but I have a feeling the answer is No.
Schumann: Then what-- (the back door is suddenly flung open, and Wagner, Ives, and Strozzi head towards them purposefully) But soft - the commitee approaches! Best to play dead again. (with that, he promptly falls back flat on the grass, eyes shut, arms straight at side; Brahms chuckles, but he is already stretched out with his eyes closed)
Wagner: What is this nonsense? You look like a pair of abused groundhogs!
Schumann(sits up, arms still at side like Dracula): I beg your pardon, sir! At least neither of us looks like a Chia pet with such ridiculous sideburns!
Wagner: Quastch. I'll have you know these sideburns are rather a "hot commodity" among the ladies.
Brahms(has been chuckling the past two comments): The world's a lot funnier when you're running on two hours of sleep...
Ives: That's right, Johannes. We've come to talk to you about your date!
Strozzi(sits in grass): Yes, we want all the details.
Brahms(groans, rolls over): I dont see what the big deal is. We went to dinner; I drove her home. End of story.
Ives(sits also): And that took 12 hours?
Brahms(grumbles): good god..12 hours of life down the drain..
Wagner: And how is one to make heads or tails from such a description? Are you being obtuse because you're tired? Or is there some some ulterior motive at work - perhaps you have some insider promised you a share of the profit?? (glares at Schumann suspiciously)
Schumann: Make no secret of our artistic collaboration! There is no underhandedness at work!
Strozzi(to Brahms): So where'd you go to dinner?
Brahms: m..you know that Greek place next to the Barnes and Noble...?
Wagner(offended): What! GREEK - what'd you go there for?!
Brahms(defensively): I asked her what she liked and she said she hadn't been there in a long time.. followed by a long rambling description of all the places she HAD been to in the last month.. good...grrr.. damned expensive too!
Ives: Yes, right - on that note, who paid?
Brahms(rolls back over to glare at them): "Paid!" we split the check-
Ives(brightens): Oh good!
Wagner(more offended): What!! Since when do you believe in equality of women??
Strozzi(at the same time): oh come on- it was a date! You should have paid!
Brahms: I tried to pay, but she insisted!
Wagner: Don't you know anything about women!
Strozzi(shakes head): You should have paid.
Ives: That's fine. Good show, Johannes. Franz will be pleased.
Wagner: Did you get coffee anywhere afterwards?
Schumann: Cease this interrogation - let the poor creature sleep!
Brahms: Coffee? What - No.
Wagner: So we are to assume then that you went nowhere else after the restaurant?
Brahms: .. right
All three: AH HAH!
Ives: What time was this?
Brahms: What does it matter?!
Ives: I like to have a sense of timeline...
Brahms: I dont know.. 930?
Wagner: That late!
Strozzi: Ah, so you took her back to her place? Did she invite you in for drinks?
Brahms(grumbles): Yes.
Ives: Right!
Strozzi(grins): hmm, what would Hildegard say?
Brahms: But I didn't go with her - couldn't stand anymore babbling.. R. L. Stine or some nonsense..
Wagner(suddenly very happy): HAH!!
Strozzi: What! Not even one drink?
Brahms(sits up, scowling mightily): WHAT IS THIS!
Schumann(hushed): Now you have awakened the inner sleeping bear - beware, oh inquiring committee members, beware!
Wagner(smugly): Oh, so you left?
Brahms: YES.
Ives: You didn't... stay?
Brahms: NO!
Strozzi: This is starting to sound like a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta.
Schumann(hops up, launches into song and dance routine):
"But as I'm engaged to KoKo
To embrace you thus con fuoco
would distinctly be no gioco
and for yam I should get toko!" (imitates the characters in a variety of voices) "Toko" "Toko!" "Toko!" "TOKO"--
Ives: Ah, I like that - you should do it to one of Ludwig's sonatas - in a different key, of course.
Brahms(has since rolled over again): yes, why dont you all go bother him for a change?
Strozzi: But, Johannes, what happened between 10 and 630??
Brahms: rggggrr.. tell you later. (pulls jacket over head, curls into fetal position) Go awayyyy.
Wagner: Impossible. But I suppose we should be pleased with what little information we have managed to pull- (pointed glare at Brahms) kicking and screaming -from the subject.. Let us alert the others.
(exeunt; Schumann stands protectively, watching as the others go)
Schumann: I fear there is foul plotting afoot.
Brahms(hasn't budged): Probably some gambling ring.
Schumann: How prosaic, and yet how true... I shall follow them. (exit)
Meanwhile, Hildegard has approached Mussorgsky in the piano room. She sits on the couch and waits for him to finish playing. She frowns discerningly at the half-filled glass on the piano.
Mussorgsky: hi hildegard
Hildegard: What's that you're working on?
Mussorgsky: an opera
Hildegard: Oh? Did you hear our neighbor is the artistic director of the opera?
Mussorgsky: schubert?
Hildegard: No, the one across the street. Barbara met him this morning.
Mussorgsky: hmm.. should talk to him
Hildegard: So.... eh... how's your work going?
Mussorgsky: slow going.. (frowns at his notebook) it always is...
Hildegard(trying to sound nonchalant): Do you sometimes find yourself... hmm... having difficulty concentrating for long periods of time?
Mussorgsky: eh... not really..
Hildegard: ... difficulty sleeping?
Mussorgsky: nah...
Hildegard: loss of appetite?
Mussorgsky: Im not an alcoholic, you know.
Hildegard(surprised): ah. You were anticipating my line of thinking, I see. Perhaps you are not being entirely open with yourself?
Mussorgsky: I wasnt anticipating your line of thinking, you sounded like a bad infomercial it was either anxiety or alcoholism... (takes a gulp from his glass)
Hildegard(blinks): So.. Ok, Modest, you just need to stop drinking.
Mussorgsky: why?
Hildegard: It's not healthy! Don't you know people do 68% better on IQ tests when they're not intoxicated?
Mussorgsky(skeptical, folds hands, turns to her): Define "intoxicated."
Hildegard: Well - the legal definition is the point at which the blood-alcohol content exceeds 0.08 millimoles per liter.
Mussorgsky: no no hildegard you know better than that. thats just some arbitrary number designated by the scientific community in order to perpetuate the hegemony of the ruling class and oppress the peasantry (pause as he takes another sip) or Common Man, what have you..
Hildegard: I... well - that -... It isn't completely arbitrary, and besides, studies have been done proving that it impairs your ability to think, destroys your liver-
Mussorgsky: Im not gonna let your scientific studies intimidate me the way the pseudoscientific "blood alcohol content level" intimidates college kids (finishes off drink)
Hildegard: But -
Mussorgsky: now you know you cant legitimize an argument just based on some isolated studies, you know how biased those are.
Hildegard: Yes, (self-righteous agreement) I do, and certainly results can be skewed based on funding and party politics -- but, Modest, it's just a fact of life that alcohol is bad for you!
Mussorgsky: only in excess and thats true of everything
(end of discussion; he turns to his music, crosses something out)
Hildegard: ... yes, but that's my point. Your drinking in excess has to stop!
Mussorgsky(turns back): You think I'm drunk now?
Hildegard: I just watched you drink a whole glass of -- what was that?
Mussorgsky: Vodka
Hildegard: That's excessive, yes!
Mussorgsky(just smiles): That's not much (stands, stretches, takes glass and notebook) Now I dont mean to make a bad pun but I think you just have to accept that drinkings in my blood. (exits; Hildegard is left sitting and staring at the piano)
Late that afternoon Bach returns to the house and is none-too-pleased to find half the gambling ring exchanging money in the foyer.
Bach: What's going on? I was trying to make a grand entrance! bloody fool Geyersbach-
Mozart(cheerfully): Oh, I'm going bankrupt. Johannes did it just to spite me.
Strozzi: I can't believe he didn't go in - not even for a drink!
Wagner: Hah - you should have known better (adds quietly) but perhaps I will waive the money you owe me if you allow me to take you out to dinner...(Strozzi smiles)
Bach: What -- "didn't go in"!? He said he had BREAKFAST with her!
(Sudden silence - they all turn to him.)
Mozart: ....what did he tell you??
Bach: It certainly sounded like he stayed the whole time - he said it was "quite the wet'n'wild adventure"! I saw him come home at 6:30...
Ives: What to make of that?
Strozzi: Oh, surely he was being facetious..
Bach(shrugs): I can never tell with him. Excuse me, I'm hungry and grumpy and I need to write some music.. (pushes through the crowd on way to kitchen)
Mozart(grins): This is quite the mess! Perhaps we should just call off all bets!
Strozzi: No, I think we need to interrogate him again.. Come on, I thought he was in the den.. (exeunt)
Zacara is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking out of a big black mug with a picture on it... Enter Bach, who notices on the mug a snowboarder flying wildly off the edge of a steep white cliff. There's a text accompanying the picture: "Regret. It hurts to admit when you make mistakes, but when they're big enough, the pain only lasts a second."
Bach: WHAT - how morbid of you!
Zacara(looks up): Hm?
Bach: That mug!
Zacara: oh (chuckles) yes, it's a good one.
Bach: I'm glad to know someone's working hard to improve the morale around here.. honestly... (rummages through refrigerator) Whose pizza is this??
Zacara: I have no idea. Probably belongs to one of the "workless Bohemians."
Bach: Good enough excuse to take it then.. Hey, can I have one of your d--
Zacara: Don't even think about it. I'm running low.
(Bach blinks: there are about 7 Diet Cokes stacked on the bottom shelf.)
Bach: ok, well...I'm going to write a little now.. see you later (gets a glass of water and leaves with pizza. Zacara has only a few seconds of peace before Hildegard walks in. She sits across from him and folds her hands gravely.)
Hildegard: Do you know what happened to me today?
Zacara(reaches for pen and paper): hold on.... yes?
Hildegard: (sighs) Modest was not cooperative.
Zacara: ah, well I could have told you that!
Hildegard: He became LESS DRUNK over the course of the conversation! (Zacara laughs) And that while he drank a glass of vodka! --and - he used postmodern philosophy to overturn my arguments! My own weapon against me --(Zacara laughs harder) How was I to expect that!! I was forced to agree with half of it-
Zacara: hahah! Ahhh, maybe if you spent more time talking to him than yelling at him... Hey, wait - let me write this down - what exactly transpired?
Hildegard: I am not giving you a transcript of the conversation, Antonio!
(the sound of voices flares up from the hallway - they turn to see Brahms stalking past, followed by Strozzi, Wagner, Mozart, and Ives.)
Brahms: no - I dont want to talk about it - -I don't even know where my damned car is!!
Strozzi: Oh come on, Johannes - you haven't really told us what happened yet!
Brahms(from down the hall): ARGH!
Zacara: hahahah... I lost quite a bit of money on that date, you know!
Hildegard: Tell me about it.. did anyone MAKE money?!
Zacara: Modest was the big winner - he put his money on the sunrise option..
Hildegard: (another sigh) That's ironic.
Zacara: So what did you tell him??
Hildegard: Who? Modest? I told him alcohol was unhealthy.
Zacara: I'm sure he was much enlightened - (phone rings) good god, I'll never find out what happened (reaches over to the cordless on the wall) Hello? .... Ahh, so you're the lucky one - hah, yes, he's home. let me fetch him.. (puts phone on table, grinning perversely)
Hildegard: That's not that airhead, is it?
Zacara(gets up, laughing) ahh hahah-- wait.. (yells down hall) JOHANNES!!!
Brahms(from another part of the house) NO!! THE ANSWER IS NO!!
Zacara: ah, I see this is going to require moving.
(Zacara heads through the dispersing (and disappointed) crowd in the hallway. In the TV room, he finds Brahms curled up defensively on the couch between Mussorgsky and Beethoven. Tchaikovsky lounges in the arm chair, arms folded and seeming displeased with the choice of programming ("I'm so sick of SVU!"). A curious Mozart appears in the doorway behind Zacara.)
Zacara(to Brahms): Ah, there you are. (Brahms shoots him a challenging look) Someone's on the phone for you.. a one Marissa....
Mozart(laughing): OH NO!
Tchaik(jumps up, fist of triumph): YESSS!!
Mussorgsky(laughs): ohhh, whatami gointodo withall that money??
Brahms(beyond expletives): .. - d... hh...! What DIDNT you people bet on!?
Zacara: Dont keep the lady waiting! hahah
Brahms(folds arms): I'm not home.
Zacara: Oh, yes you are - I already told her so.
Brahms(jumps up): All right. Where's the phone?
Zacara: heh heh..
(so Brahms storms to the kitchen with half the household close behind. He stops suspiciously at the table when he sees Hildegard sitting next to the phone.)
Brahms: ...what did you say?
Hildegard: Nothing. I let you speak for yourself (gestures magnanimously to the phone; Brahms scowls, but picks it up and answers nicely.)
Brahms: Hello? ..... Hi, Marissa, sorry to keep you waiting ..yeah.... It was fine.....(paces about the room) Yes, actually you know, Franz is unchained from the pool table - ha ha.....riiighht, so I'm sure he's anxious to talk to you --(looks appalled) What? oh no.. I'm ... really too busy these days.... .. (Mozart has to duck out of the room because he is laughing too hard; the others are also snickering at the variety of horrified expressions on part of Brahms) oh no, it's just a matter of.. artistic freedom - I mean, you wouldn't be distracting R.L. Stine if he were trying to write a book - (there's a loud, revelatory "OOOOHHH!" from the other end - Brahms holds the phone away as if it were about to bite him; Zacara also has to leave the room) and by 'distracting' I don't mean that in a bad way (painful attempt at smiling) .....ah - ok, you're so understanding, yes, I'll let him know.... right, bye! (hangs up phone, dusts off hands) That was easy.
Hildegard: What! You are such--
Muss(clapping): goodjob I haveta remember taht line!
Mozart&Zacara: HAHAHAHAH!
Mozart(falling down against the wall): ohhhh such a comic opera!
Strozzi(to Brahms): Foist her back on Franz! good strategy.
Brahms: Didn't anyone bet on that? (makes his way through the crowd into the hallway. He doesn't get far, as Mussorgsky throws an arm around his shoulders- more for drunken support than out of camaraderie.)
Mussorgsky: youknow Ithink youwouldlike my opera that imwriting itsbasedona play called marriage
Brahms: Marriage and opera! What a godawful combination!
Mussorgsky: no no itsa comedy abouta fellow whos engaged butmanages to escape thewhole thing by jumpingouta window attheend-
(they teeter down the hallway - or rather, Mussorgsky does, dragging Brahms side-to-side with him)
Mussorgsky: imtryingto setit realistically but itsarather ridiculous thingand monotonously ridiculousatthat ill probably besickofit bytomorrow butthatsallfine itsjustanexperiment anyway
(Hildegard shakes her head in disapproval)
Hildegard: Both of them are incorrigible.
Zacara: At least you're only trying to reform one of them at a time.. Or should we assume from your word choice that you've given up already?
Hildegard(smirks): Not quite yet.
(Bach comes down stairs)
Bach: What'd I miss this time?!