A Pale and Delicate Shade
Wagner: Today I intend to pick up the curtains for the basement while I'm out.
Hildegard: Oh good. I checked yesterday, and we do have enough paint to cover the (directed at Tchaikovsky, who is cooking an omelette) gaping plastered patch over the bar.
Tchaikovsky: Don't look at me. The wet bar idea wasn't mine, although I'm not sure I approve of pink curtains either.
Wagner: Come now, Pyotr, I trust in your sensitive and sophisticated taste for interior design!
Tchaikovsky: Yes... and I'm not sure teeny bopper-pink fits into that taste..
(Hildegard and Strozzi smile at each other across the table)
Wagner: What! No, no they are not overtly pink - certainly not anything approaching the hideous "NEON" pink of your so-called teeny boppers, but rather a... (grasps for words)-- oh, I have a vision in my head that is simply being resisitant to words at this hour in the morning, but believe me, once you see them, you will have to agree: they are the perfect color.
Tchaikovsky: Well.. seeing is believing...
(Enter Mozart)
Mozart: Good morning
Tchaik(grumpy): nothing's very good about it.
Strozzi: What - it's not pink curtains have put you in a bad mood, I hope?
Tchaik: No, no.. its just.. today is Tuesday.. I hate Tuesdays. (sigh) But I promised not to complain about my love affairs at the breakfast table.
Mozart: Ah, but you're not at the breakfast table.
Hildegard: I believed it was "in the kitchen"
Wagner: But I believe that was only for Ludwig's benefit, yes? At least that's how Franz described it.
Tchaik(embarrassed): Has everyone heard about this already??
Mozart(grins): all the people who care, Pyotr.
(Tchaik turns around to find them all smiling at him, in varying degrees of encouragment)
Tchaik: er.. oh well, just a student... nothing will come of it. I'm too cautious for that... but I'm also too Romantic to ignore it. So I have to suffer. You know me.
Wagner: My advice to you: write a tone poem about it.
Tchaik: tone poem?? What's wrong with a concert overture?
Wagner: That will do as well.
Mozart(sits next to Wagner): Well, Richard, with two days of reconnaissance under my belt, I can safely say that our neighbor has no definable schedule.
Tchaik(sigh): the carefree life of the workless Bohemian-
Wagner: not THAT neighbor - Mr. Mahler who conducts the opera! (turns back to Mozart) You probably don't see him because he is Working, Wolfgang.
Tchaik: What?? We have an opera conductor?
Strozzi: Yes, he's a perfectly charming fellow -(adds ironically) that would explain the girl in the T-shirt in the rain last week...
Wagner: What?!
Hildegard: Agh, these womanizers..
Mozart(grins): I knew I liked him.
Tchaik: Well you should tell Modest if he's really interested in putting on his neighbor's operas.
Mozart(chuckles): Ahhhh, but we haven't quite established that. In fact, he only seems to know that Barbara exists (smiles at her) unless she deigned to mention her wonderful housemates..
Strozzi(archly): I think I may have mentioned that a few composers live here.. but perhaps I should be the one to go back and introduce the idea to him properly..
Mozart: hahahah
Tchaik: Really, you need to let Modest in on this - the more people stalking this guy, the better.
Wagner: Actually, I thought I should be the one to talk to him. (turns to Mozart and Strozzi) It would upset the effect to have one of you laughing at him and one of you winking at him the whole time.
Strozzi(laughing): OHh!
Mozart(mock injury): Your stinging words cut me to the quick, Richard..
(Enter Mussorgsky with a bottle of unlabelled clear drink; he goes to the refrigerator)
Mussorgsky: morning
Hildegard: Good morning, Modest. What's that you've got?
Mussorgsky(takes out carton): Orange Juice. see? healthy (pours two shots worth into his other bottle, mixes.. smirks in satisfaction at the vaguely orange tint)
Hildegard: What... is that VODKA?
Tchaik: Did you want to eat with us, Modest? We are planning how best to stalk our new neighbor.
Mussorgsky: You better ask Robert about that. he said something about lawn gnome counterattack.. (to Hildegard) its got orange juice.
Hildegard: Insufferable...
Tchaik: Not Schubert.. the neighbor who's the artistic director and conductor of the opera!
Mussorgsky(pulls over a chair and sits): Tell me more....
By mid-afternoon Wagner has prepared himself to go shopping. Soon he reaches the strip mall with the token pizza shop, hair cuttery, and home improvement store. He parks in front of the Custom Curtains store and stands magisterially before the entrance.
Wagner: Ahhhhh, Arcadia! what wonders of taste await my discerning palate within? a formidable task, to be sure, but perhaps my quest will end triumphant, bringing culture to the philistines stifling my unacknowledged talent for interior design!
(He marches inside and ignores the customer service representative as he follows his gut instinct to the curtain section.) Hm. (looks at the dizzying array of curtains; his eyes narrow in concentration as he scans the selections) .... hmm... mauve.... coral (regards it for a moment) no, no.. (sigh) Where is the delicacy and fragility of true pink like the gentle sigh of a blushing maiden....enticing, yet innocent? (looks at the next)... ohh, flighty fuchsia: the poor man's substitute for the true nobility of pink..note the agressive tone to the color, the defensiveness not quite disguising its lack of depth.
(He frowns as a sales representative comes over to him. She is 40-ish and walks with a determined, confident stride. Her nametag says Margaret.)
SalesPerson: May I help you narrow your selection, sir?
Wagner: Yes, I believe I shall need to see your fabric books, madam..I know that we need: three valance triple pinch pleat, bullion fringe --(stops suddenly, eyes wide) No, hold!..... THOSE.... (strides across floor to a display) AHHHHH, perfect! the hue of sunrise as the golden orb bringing life to all creation boldly strides across the horizon...the sky trumpeting its arrival as its crowning glory rises inexorably up into the ether!
SalesPerson(raised eyebrow): Those? (The curtains are light and airy-looking, but not overtly lacy or ornate.) Well, if they are perfect you don't have to have them custom made..
Wagner: Fate supports me in my venture.. I'll take them.
(At the nearest cash register, the SalesPerson rings up the order.)
SalesPerson: Your total comes to $318.65.
Wagner: Oh. Do you take Discover?
SalesPerson: Yes. (he hands her his card, she swipes it... pause) Hm.... its been rejected.
Wagner: What!
SalesPerson(frowns discerningly): Is there another card that you'd rather use?
Wagner(searches through wallet): Ah... No. (grumbles to self) What nonsense... Discover Card and their pittance of a limit.. I wasn't planning on that!! Well! I'll have to come back later! Do hold those for a one Richard Wagner, if you please, madam. I am off to add my steel to the epic battle against the ursurers that have befouled this land with their grasping greed over a mere pittance! (storms off without waiting for a reply.)
Back at the house, Mussorgsky is doing his one household chore: fetching the mail. He makes his way to their dilapidated mailbox, and soon he is sorting through their various letters and bills.
Mussorgsky: who the hell is ..(stumbles over words) Slowye szacharie mneysche ?? this is POLISH! ZACARA!
(His attention is attracted by sudden motion across the street. He glances up in time to see Mozart's feet disappearing into an azalea bush next to Mahler's front porch.)
Mussorgsky: what in...
(The front door opens and Mahler rushes out, briefcase in hand. Mussorgsky attempts to wave, but drops half his letters in the process.)
Mussorgsky: er Hi neighbor!
Mahler: Must run! late! (hops into car, speeds off to the sound of screeching tire. As soon as he has disappeared around the corner, Mozart pops up from the azalea bush like a grinning jack-in-the-box.)
Mozart: Modest!
Mussorgsky(picking up letters): I dont think he saw you
Mozart(coming across the street): What!?
Mussorgsky: I said I dont think he saw you!
Mozart: Oh no, he was rushing off somewhere.. Man of Mystery! (he helps Mussorgsky pick up the letters)
Mussorgsky: you shouldnt snoop around. hes going to think yourestalking him
Mozart: I am! hahah! I was trying to read the opera score on his piano in the living room-
Mussorgsky: Through the window i hope!
Mozart: I havent broken into the house yet...
Mussorgsky: i think thats good
Mozart: It looked .... it looked quite strange. Like some overly-chromatic nonsense Richard would write-
(The two of them head back inside)
Mussorgsky: oh im sorry
Mozart: But I dare to hope! I'm sure that won't preclude him from putting on some good operas, eh? He'll need something to balance it out.
Mozart grins and goes downstairs for a game of pool. Mussorgsky meanwhile starts to open his letters. One of Strozzi's letters has made its way into his pile, and he opens it unknowingly, begins reading.
"Dear Neighbor, all we in the Women's Club would like to welcome you to the
neighorbood. We also welcome you to the club as you may be interested in
socializing, sharing receipes, planning fun events and -- "
Muss: Ahh, bunch of old women with nothing to do. (but as he scans the rest of the letter, his eyes widen) nothing except... plan concerts! Perhaps that could be ...hmm.. (he wanders off to find Barbara, who is in the den working on a composition. He stands nearby and waits for her to look up)
Strozzi: Hi Modest
Mussorgsky: Barbara. You got a letter inviting you to join the Women's Club. I think you should join.
Strozzi: But isn't that all old women?
Mussorgsky: That shouldn't stop you from taking advantage of this great opportunity to join the neighborhood social scene and contribute to a change for the better in our community.
Strozzi: (regards him skeptically) The unfortunate thing is... you're not drunk.
Mussorgsky: That is unfortunate. But it wouldn't change my opinion on the subject.
Strozzi(sighs): Well Pyotr had introduced me to Mrs. Hickman - she's the president, you know she lives across the street - (sees Mussorgsky's confused expression) next to Gustav - and.... Well, she said she'd send me a letter with more information..
Mussorgsky: yeah, I accidently opened it. But Concerts. They arrange concerts.. You should be involved in that. Get us all gigs.
Strozzi(grimacing): Surely we don't need to resort to such "drastic measures"....?
Mussorgsky: ahh well if you're too chicken to do it I'll join. (exit)
Strozzi: Wait - Modest - you're not--..... oh well!
Muss takes the letter and heads to the piano room. Liszt is there trying to teach piano to a young woman who seems more interested in him than anything remotely related to the piano.
Liszt: This is a question of balance. Try to feel the center of balance while you move through the piece --
Woman: Ohh, perhaps you should demonstrate and I'll try to concentrate on it.
Liszt: Of course.. (begins improvising some chopinesque romantic piece; the girl puts her hands on his waist as he sways. Mussorgsky rolls his eyes; plops on the sofa next to small table with phone. The girl is startled - turns to see the disheleved Russian.)
Muss(dials): ....... Uh - Hello? Mrs. Hickman? ..... yes, this is.... your neighbor from down the street - Modest Mussorgsky (Liszt looks around in confusion - what is the fool doing??) Yes, I'm one of Barbara Strozzi's housemates.. ... We're interested in your club.. I was thinking you might be interested to hold one of your next meetings here as a token of our hospitality and support.. (by this point Liszt has completely forgotten the girl and is staring at Mussorgsky in horror) ..... ah hah.... good... that's fine.....Thursday is fine.. .... 11 it is.. Right. Thanks. (hangs up)
Liszt: Excuse me, Modest... Did you just sign us up to hold a Women's Club meeting this Thursday??
Mussorgsky: Yep. Carry on.. I got people to meet now.. (wanders out)
On the way out the front door, Mussorgsky runs into Wagner, who is still fuming.
Wagner: ACH -Modest! fool! Watch where you're going!
Mussorgsky: oh well you didnt look up. where are the curtains??
Wagner: DAMN. I couldn't purchase them; unforseen circumstances prevented me, I fear.... (goes into house, leaving Mussorgsky confused on the step)
Mussorgsky: unforseen?? as in gnomes stole your gold? whatever.. (exit)
Wagner storms into the kitchen, where Hildegard is explaining her abolition plans to Robert Schumann. They are both sitting at the table sipping a particularly strong-smelling herbal tea.
Hildegard: Now that he's aware of my intentions, I have to be even more cautious - everything I say seems "goal-oriented"..
Schumann(frowns): I've always found it helpful to approach the problem from the perspective of the enemy: that is, what does HE know that we don't? In this case, clearly: the benefits of alcoholism.
Hildegard: But Robert - there aren't any benefit-
Schumann: AHHHH HA! That's the problem!
Hildegard: I know that's the problem - I'm trying to help him correct it-
Schumann: No, dear lady, the problem is you refuse to see what he sees.
Hildegard: Well......
(She ponders this while Schumann turns his attention to Wagner, who is obnoxiously rooting through the mess of papers next to him.)
Schumann(superior disdain): State your business, Sir.
Wagner: What is this foolhardiness? Where're my proper writing utensils and stationery!? (pauses - looks up at Schumann, their faces close) What have you done with them..?
Schumann: I was merciful and put them to good use.
Wagner: What!
Schumann: I wrote back to your ridiculous editorial.
Wagner: WHAT! WITH MY OWN WRITING SUPPLIES!
Schumann(nobly): I could not bear to see such exceptional instruments used to such ill ends. You should be pleased to know they perform beautifully when one only offers them words of grace, dignity, and the profoundly simple yet confoundedly evasive COMMON SENSE-
Wagner(splutters indignantly): wh! GH! -- WHERE DID YOU PUT THEM?
(Enter Brahms, rubbing hands together; he goes straight to the pantry)
Brahms: eat time!
Hildegard(looks up, glaring): "Eat"! It's 2:30!
Wagner: ..god forsaken -- here's the other one. Don't you people have JOBS?
Schumann(to Brahms): Hannes, I believe Mr. Wagner would like a can of sardines.
Brahms(in pantry): I don't see any - I think Zacara ate them all.
Schumann: ..shame...
Wagner: WHERE ARE THEY!
Hildegard: Robert, what do you think about trying to get Modest involved in some other, more productive hobby? (shoots a glare at Wagner) They're in the den, Richard, now go do something constructive with them and let us plan in peace.
Wagner: Madam, how can you presume to take his side? He used MY pen and paper without permission - bold and uncalled-for presumption! (he paces around the kitchen, almost knocking into Brahms who is now trying to construct a sandwich at the counter) Do you know within each hand-blown glass inkpot lies the seed of genius-- why, the ink alone is more precious then half the furnishings in this very house-
Brahms(obviously annoyed): That's your fault, not his.
Wagner: --he should use crayon for his illegible scrawls rather than the permanence of ink which will leave its legacy for the ages. How dare he deprive future generations of my genius! callous disregard for posterity!
Hildegard(catches his attention): Richard! - where are the curtains you went out to buy?
Wagner: Ach, don't remind me - I fear the salesperson was unable to complete the purchase.
(Schumann stands abruptly, strides over to counter and takes a piece of ham off Brahms's sandwich)
Brahms: hey-
Schumann: pace, friend..
Hildegard: What do you mean "unable to complete the purchase"?
Schumann(munching): The Gods of good taste have intervened in our favor!
Wagner: Nonsense. It's just... the God forsaken Discover Card is maxed out again!
(Brahms laughs; Hildegard rolls her eyes, Schumann sneaks a piece of swiss cheese.)
Hildegard: Richard, isn't that the third card you've maxed out in the past four months?
Wagner: What is to be done with such a pittance of a limit! The paltry demands of the common consumer cannot compare to the needs of a towering genius such as I - the credit card companies should know better than to attempt to LIMIT me.
Brahms: Aren't there some cards that don't have credit limits?
Hildegard(smirks at him): I think you know well enough that Richard would not be approved for any of those..
(Schumann reaches for a piece of lettuce - Brahms snatches the sandwich away.)
Brahms: Oh, Robert. Here. Eat. (shoves it back at him, goes about making a another sandwich. Schumann shrugs and takes a bite from his new prize.)
Wagner: And this is precisely the reason why I came amongst you in the first place - I must gainsay this ridiculous limit policy that has been so unjustly imposed upon me! Discover has not heard the last of Richard Wagner! (storms out)
On the way to the den, Wagner meets Beethoven in the hall. They stop in time before walking into each other.
Wagner: Ah, Ludwig!
Beethoven: Richard.
Wagner: How are you?
Beethoven: (shrug)
Wagner: Why, you're looking awfully pale today... (on the contrary: Beethoven's naturally swarthy complexion has only darkened with all the time he's spent in the backyard.) How would you like an opportunity to do a friend a favor - get out in the world and mingle with the People - and help the household all at the same time?
Beethoven: ....You need something.
Wagner: Well now that you ask, yes. You see - well, you are well aware that I had taken it upon myself to supply the proper curtains for the basement renovation; unfortunately, unforseen circumstances have conspired to prevent me temporarily from completing the acquisition; however, Together, we may thwart fate's ill-planned scheme of curtain-curtailment!
Beethoven: .... You want me to buy your curtains.
Wagner: That would be perfect of you, many thanks, Ludwig. Theyre being held for me at the register in the Custom Curtains shop. I believe the salesperson's name was Margaret. I myself must now bear the burden of writing to the conspiring corporate giants who dare to stand in the way of Richard Wagner's curtains! (disappears into the den)
Beethoven(still standing in hallway): hm....... where are my keys?
Soon our hero heads out to his car which is currently parallel parked in the driveway between Schumann's and Wagner's. He frowns at the situation: in his angry haste, Wagner has crammed his car right up next to Beethoven's - there's no chance of budging the trapped vehicle. After a moment's contemplation, Beethoven turns and goes back to the den where he confronts Wagner.
Beethoven: Richard.
Wagner(looks up from his writing): Ah, yes, Ludwig? You haven't left yet?
Beethoven: That would require you moving your car out of the trunk of mine....
Wagner: Oh - but of course.. (hops up, marches out - meanwhile Beethoven looks over the letter he's been drafting. Wagner returns shortly) Your path is free - are you perusing my missive?
Beethoven: I was trying to envision the look on the customer service representatives face when they read "dark crime against humanity by chopping off the umbilical cord of genius.."
Wagner: Indeed, by the overwhelming power of my rhetoric they should willingly comply with all my demands...
Beethoven(mumbling on way out): right... Saruman..
By the time Beethoven reaches the front yard, he finds his car blocked - this time he doesn't even recognize the blue Camry in his way..
Beethoven: what the!!... (inspects license plate; it reads: "Petya") damn it, Pyotr!! (goes back into house where Tchaikovsky is rhapsodizing to Hildegard in the TV room)
Tchaik: The hands! Angelic!! - I don't know what to do with myself. I have to look at the floor like some fifth-grader--
Hildegard(on hands and knees searching under sofa): I hate to interrupt, Pyotr, but do you know where he keeps his alcohol??
Tchaik: I think you would have found it by now!
Beethoven(standing in doorway, arms down like something out of a Halloween movie): Pyotr.
Tchaik: Agh-- what!?! Don't startle me like that.
Beethoven: Your car is parked in my way. Can you move it?
Tchaik: Oh, sure. I didn't know you had to go anywhere.. (darts out)
Hildegard: Ludwig, you wouldn't happen to know where Modest keeps his alcohol, would you?
Beethoven: no
Hildegard: I'm trying to help him end this accursed addiction!
Beethoven I'm not sure he wants help.
Hildegard: Perhaps I'll have to talk to him - persuasively....
Beethoven: Mind control could work, but I think that would defeat your underlying purpose...
Hildegard(raised eyebrow): and that is..?
Beethoven(shrug): Something about bringing out the sensitive, thinking artist..
(the front door opens again, and Bach and Tchaikovsky walk past, embroiled in discussion.)
Bach: So then she says (imitates high voice) "Johann Sebastian, if you don't stop working 24/7 and spend some quality time with me, we are THROUGH!"
Tchaikosky: Oh no! they always have to throw out the ultimatum. But maybe you should take off a day or two? You are looking quite frazzled these days..
Bach: I know - but you realize what a mess I've been going through with Geyersbach and the powers that be.... (their voices trail off as they go into the kitchen; Beethoven frowns.)
Beethoven: wait... J.S. is seeing someone??
Hildegard(smirks): Yes, but you'd never know!
Beethoven(concerned): ..how... ? OK, I'm going out. (stalks off)
Hildegard(eyes narrow): Perhaps even more drastic measures...
The phone rings.
Cut to kitchen where Bach is drinking a beer and going through the pile of mail Mussorgsky has left for him, Tchaikovsky offering token sympathetic advice -
Bach: bloody court orders -- whos calling at this hour?
Tchaik: I don't know, I'll get it. (takes phone) Hello? ...... uh.... yes, that's right, he lives here..... (frowns)
Bach(grins): someone for Franz?
Tchaik(covers phone): No, some guy for Johannes!
Bach: ahaahah - not even the infamous Marissa??
Tchaik(back to phone): uh... yeah, not a problem. Let me find him. I'll have to put you on hold. (click) That's odd. Some guy named Heinrich Schenker. I mean - who introduces himself as "An Important Music Theorist" to strangers on the phone??
Bach: It's probably Wolfy playing a prank.
Tchaik: We'll find out shortly (exit)
Meanwhile, Beethoven has reached his car in the front yard, and found it to be trapped yet again. At least he recognizes the offending vehicle as Bach's.
Beethoven: ARRHGHGGGG!!!! (throws up hands in disgust, fumes, rages....)
While he does so, Tchaikovsky makes his way to the backyard, stops primly on the porch and reviews. Left edge of yard: empty. Tree: apparently empty. Right sid--there! two people lounging in the grass: Schumann lying on his back, hands behind head, gazing into the heavens with one leg propped over the other; Brahms sitting up but staring in deep consternation at the leafy twig in his hand.
Tchaikovsky: what are they..?? fools. HEY JOHANNES! (Brahms looks up) PHONE FOR YOU!
Brahms: I'M DEAD.
Tchaikovsky: ITS SOME MUSIC THEORIST!
(Sigh audible from across the yard - but Brahms drags himself to his feet..)
Inside, Hildegard continues her search for Mussorgsky's alcohol. Her efforts are now accompanied by the loud and furious piano-playing of Franz Liszt. She looks up at the slam of the front door as Beethoven marches back inside. He stops in the foyer, in front of the TV and piano room doorways.
Beethoven(calling down hall): JOHANN SEBASTIAN!!!
Bach(sticks head out of kitchen): What!?
Beethoven: Move your car! I'm trying to leave!
(Bach steps into the hallway as Tchaikovsky and Brahms go into the kitchen)
Bach(eyes narrow): Since when do you leave the house?
Beethoven: Don't ask questions - just move your damned car!
Bach(approaches threateningly): now wait just a minute...
(The piano music abruptly stops and Liszt appears in the doorway, leaning elegantly against the frame.)
Liszt: Excuse me, gentlemen... Would you mind keeping it down a bit? I'm trying to practice.
Hildegard(from other room): I'm surprised you can hear over that racket!!
(Liszt blinks as if trying to calm himself, then walks past Beethoven into the tv room and sits on the couch)
Liszt: Hildegard, we need to talk...
(Beethoven returns his glare to Bach.)
Beethoven: I'm just trying to go to the store.. I have tried THREE TIMES to leave and --
Bach: That's no excuse for being rude!
Beethoven: You're rude all the time when you're stressed out--
(Wagner enters the hallway from the den - Bach doesn't notice, as the den doorway is further down the hall than the kitchen doorway...)
Wagner: Ah, I thought I heard that distinctively powerful voice -- haven't you left yet, Ludwig?
(Bach spins around, startled)
Beethoven: ARGHHH!!
Brahms(sticks head out of kitchen, hand covering phone): Can you take the primal rage OUTSIDE?!
(Beethoven raises his arms as if to tear at his hair - but he turns and blusters out the front door instead.)
Wagner(at Bach and Brahms): Honestly, you two, can't you let an artist go about his business without criticizing his every decision? (to Bach) You should understand the situation. (to Brahms) You should know your place. (disappears into den, closes door. Brahms shakes his fist after him.)
Bach: I have a headache. I'm going upstairs where there's some peace. (exit; Brahms walks back into kitchen, still on the phone. Tchaikovsky looks at him questioningly)
Tchaik: what -.... whats going on??
(Brahms waves the question off - then he notices the keys on the table; they have a music note and a cross attached to the chain.)
Brahms(to phone): Oh.. yeah, well.. I'm not opposed to that... I have to say your theories were.. thought-provoking, but I can't say I was particularly capable of much thought on no sleep at 5 am.......yeah.....(picks up keys, holds them out to Tchaik, covers phone again) take these out to Ludwig, JS said he can just borrow his car.
Tchaik: oh, ok (exit)
Brahms(to phone): yep... so ..... how ... how exactly did you get my phone number again?? ......(completely incredulous) I gave it to you?? .... I did??
Cut to front of house, where Beethoven is sitting on the front porch and scowling at the line of cars in the driveway. Enter Tchaik
Tchaik: Here, Ludwig. (holds out keys) JS said you can just borrow his car.
Beethoven: ..Oh.
So Beethoven drives Bach's car to Custom Curtains. Back at the house, Brahms is just hanging up the phone - the second he sets it back it starts to ring again.
Brahms(regards it wide-eyed): .... seven days to live... (picks it up) Hello? (the caller has a deep fatherly voice which sounds none too pleased.)
Caller: Hello.
Brahms: Can I help you?
Caller(suspicious tone, as if answering his own question): You're not Wolfgang, your voice is too high-pitched..
Brahms: And....You're not hoping to reach him, you're hardly ingratiating yourself with the person on the other end of the line.....
Caller: This is Leopold Mozart. His FATHER. I wish to speak with him.
Brahms: I'm sorry, but you were right.. I'm not Wolfgang.
Caller: I am well aware! He would know better than to take such a tone in speaking to his father.. But if you would please give him the phone, Mr......?
Brahms: ......Liszt. Franz Liszt.
Caller: Well, right, Mr. Liszt. If You Please.
Brahms: Please Hold. (click) ... that explains a lot.. (exit)
Meanwhile in the TV room, the real Franz Liszt and Hildegard are having a heart-to-heart. Or rather, trying not to tear each other's hearts out.
Hildegard(angry, but holding her ground): You can't expect me to fall for your ridiculous posturing -
Liszt(desperate and frustrated): It's not posturing - I like people!!!
Hildegard: It's all a power trip-
Liszt(falls to one knee, wringing hands in despair): What must I do!? What must I do for you to believe that my intentions are NOT dishonourable!?!
(Enter Schumann, who stops abruptly and tilts his head sideways..)
Schumann: ah?
(The other two turn to him.)
Schumann: Oh! I have interrupted the proposal of marriage!! No no! Do continue -- (gestures with wide arms that they should go on)
Hildegard(hand to head): Robert..
Liszt(collapses back into sofa): Robert!
(Schumann takes this as an invitation and walks in, hands carefully tucked behind his back like some father figure about to impart profound advice on his children.)
Schumann: I must confess, I am surprised at the apparent prematurity of this declaration -- not to say that I don't believe in the match; contrarywise: I had suspected it all along --
Hildegard: Robert! We are not a "match."
Schumann: ah - (sage glance to Liszt) the lady doth protest too much, methinks--
Hildegard: ARE YOU ALL CONSPIRING TODAY! (storms out)
Liszt(closes eyes in exhaustion): I'm not following her..
Schumann(drops head): I fear I have said too much.
Liszt: Oh, Robert... go do something useful for once!
Schumann(expression immediately darkens): So says Franz Liszt... we can only hope he means to be charitable and doesnt recognize what he says.. (walks out)
Liszt(sigh): I think I prefer the quiet life chained to the pool table....
Basement:
Mozart is napping on the new sofa under the curtainless window. Brahms comes down the steps, making sure to slam his foot on each one. Mozart opens an eye.
Mozart: Johannes Brahms. What are you doing? (Brahms reaches the bottom step and stays on it, pouting. Mozart brightens and sits up) Perhaps you want to play a game of pool?
Brahms: I want to tell you that your father is a bastard.
Mozart(eyes widen): oh no! How would you happen to know that!?
Brahms: It only took about 15 seconds of conversation. He's on the phone for you.
Mozart: I'm not home.
Brahms: Oh yes you are. If I had to talk to him, you do too!
Mozart(folds arms): No.
Brahms: ..On second thought... if he had to raise you... maybe that's why he's a bastard.
Mozart: heheheh.. I'm not answering that damned phone.
Brahms: Well I guess I'll take him off hold.. by rudely hanging up.. (goes up stairs)
Mozart(calls after him): WOE IS YOU IF HE EVER COMES TO VISIT.
Brahms(lazily): That's all taken care of...
Two hours later, Beethoven returns with the pink curtains in hand. By this time Ives and Zacara are home and making dinner. Beethoven walks past the door of the kitchen, and the pink curtains do not escape the notice of Zacara and Ives.
Ives: What in God's name is that!?
Zacara: ah hahah -- must be Richard's pink curtains - But a mystery here: why does Ludwig have them??
Ives: That's for sure. Ludwig should know better than to be seen carrying around such a blatantly feminine shade of pink! What's the matter with Richard?!
Zacara: Perhaps he is not manly enough to carry his own pink curtains.. heh (suddenly they overhear Beethoven's voice, apparently coming from the den)
Beethoven: THREE HUNDRED-EIGHTEEN DOLLARS AND SIXTY-FIVE CENTS!!
Zacara: Ouch.
Ives: For those girly pink things? More women's underwear than curtains! Preposterous!!
(a door slams- footsteps - another door slams)
Ives: What do you suppose this is all about? I hope they're not going to hang them up!
Zacara(takes a diet Coke from the fridge): Hold down the fort. I'm going to investigate.
Zacara sneaks behind Beethoven and Wagner (now in possession of the curtains), and to no one's surprise they find Mozart and Strozzi playing pool. Wagner smirks condescendingly at the scene.
Wagner: Oh, Wolfgang, playing at your games again. Are you aware that while you squander your precious hours some of us are making an important contribution to improving the aesthetic ambience of this household?
Mozart(eyes twinkling at Strozzi): So perhaps I haven't bought any curtains lately, but I wouldn't say I'm wasting my time.... (she smiles)
Wagner(puffs): Oh come make yourself useful. I'm not standing on the sofa to hang these - bring over a chair.
Strozzi: So these are the pink curtains that we have heard so much about?
Wagner: Ludwig, would you move this sofa?
(Beethoven regards it for a moment, then in one quick motion gives a mighty shove and it slides out from under the window. Mozart sets a chair in its place.)
Mozart: You know you won't be able to do that once Modest gets the carpet put down.
Wagner(toStrozzi): Yes, aren't they marvelous?
Strozzi: They're better than I imagined. They actually do match with the walls.
Zacara(makes his presence known): No, Charles was displeased. I think the colors are too harmonious for him.. heh
Wagner: Has the whole household come to witness the curtain installment??
Zacara: No, just Zacar... I dont even know if I count as one whole housemate.
Beethoven(clears throat): Don't you need hammer and nails for this?
Wagner: Yes, in fact. I assume you know where they are.
Beethoven(somewhat ironic expression): Ok.. (walks out)
Strozzi: I wonder what put Ludwig in a good mood all of a sudden...?
Wagner: Clearly one cannot deny the uplifting effects of the curtains.
Mozart(grins): That's not how I would put it.. although it's probably nothing to do with the curtains.. Maybe there's something to "getting out in the world and mingling with the common man"...
Zacara(snorts): There are no common men.
Strozzi: I like how you asume it's Man who has the power to cheer him up..
Wagner(stops studying the wall): Ah, of course! He must have met some charming nymph to take his mind off his worries. I encourage that sort of inspiration.
Zacara: I'm sure you do.
(Beethoven returns with hammer and nail; he is suspicious at the knowing looks he receives from the others)
Beethoven: What?
Strozzi: Just appreciating your good mood.
Beethoven(a smirk approaching a smile): Just the sunshine.
Strozzi: mm hm..
Beethoven(pushes the hammer and nail to Wagner): Hang those and get it over with.
Wagner(sniffs): I was thinking of helping Wolfgang use his time more productively..
Mozart; I'm not sure I'd trust me if I were you...
(Wagner turns toward Zacara)
Zacara(holding up hands as if to wave off any suggestions of work): I have a club foot. I'm disabled.
Wagner: (sigh) In some affairs genius must aide itself..
(He gets on the chair and eyes up the space for the curtain rod. The others' idle chatter is interrupted by the slam of a distant door. Enter Bach, whose determined stride and clenched fists make up for the fact that he is straight faced.. the others watch in concern as he joins them near the pool table. He waits)
Strozzi: Hi JS.. bad day at church?
Bach: OK..... pink curtains be damned.. which one of you has my car keys??
Beethoven: ... Oh...