A Night At the Opera By Pete Donald
The audience stood as one to acclaim the magnificent performance of Bizet’s “Carmen”. That was everybody except the two theatre critics who sat, stony faced, on the plush velvet seats. Victor turned to Dimitri and shrugged his shoulders.
“Very average, don’t you agree” he asked.
“Oh yes, very average, dare I say poor” replied Dimitri
“Oh dare, dare” encouraged his fellow critic.
The stage had emptied after three encores.
“Only three,” commented Victor.
“I counted them as well.” added Dimitri. “I mean no self-respecting diva accepts anything less than five.”
“Anyway enough of these amateurs” announced Victor “shall we see how things are progressing with the main show.”
“Indeed we shall,” agreed Dimitri.
And with that the two fleas leapt down from the arm of the plush front row chair and disappeared through a crack in the floorboards.
The open space underground revealed a theatre grander and more splendid than any human stage. There were groups of singers and musicians going through their own personal warm ups in advance of the final rehearsal before tonight’s opening performance.
The chorus were made up of a number of honeybees, all humming “Begluckt darf nun dich” from “Tannhauser” by Wagner. They were under the direction of a very imposing Preying Mantis, Herr Strictland. The Mantis was sweeping the air with his great front limbs in an attempt to keep the chorus together.
All of a sudden he stopped.
“Who was that? Who was that?” He screeched at the top of his voice.
The bees stopped their humming and looked at each other, perplexed at the outburst.
“One of you,” the words spluttered out of Herr Strictland’s mouth, “was out of tune. An off key buzzing that went right through me. Who was it!” demanded Herr Strictland.
The bees knew only too well that swift and severe retribution would befall the guilty party. The hive mentality took hold and the bees kept very quiet.
The silence was broken by the worse piece of humming you have ever heard – screeching like fingers down a blackboard. It was the hoverfly janitor, carried away with the music whist brushing the stage. He was oblivious to all around him; his personal serenade was about to become his swan song.
With a polite burp and lick of the lips Herr Strictland turned back to the orchestra. The Janitor wouldn’t be disturbing them again!
“Again from the top, this time without interruption” cried Herr Strictland.
“This business can be so cruel,” said Victor
“So true” replied Dimitri
The rest of the company continued their endeavours, preparing for the big opening. The orchestra had finished their tuning and tweaking and settled down to run through the various musical set pieces. The bizarre sight of crickets and grasshoppers, locust and cicadas all rubbing their legs in harmony was countered by the splendid sounds that drifted over the theatre. It was music to your ears, wherever they might be located on your body?
Amidst the noise and excitement the leading tenor wandered onto the stage. His mere presence stopped both chorus and orchestra and an impromptu round of applause rang out in appreciation for the great singer.
Herr Strictland scurried over to his maestro.
“Dustov, Dustov we are not worthy of you. You do us the greatest honour by gracing our humble company.”
Dustov Mite may have been a twentieth of the size of Herr Strictland but he brushed away the Mantis with a flick of utter distain.
“I sing that’s what I do, that’s what I am. I bring magic into your lives if only because you are sad pathetic individuals with none of their own.”
“You are so right Comrade Mite,” the smile on the Mantis’s face was stretched to breaking point.
“Now where is my leading lady?” enquired the mite.
“I’m here” a slurred voice carried across the stage, the whole ensemble turned to the corner of the stage to see a ladybird stretched full length on a chaise lounge. This was no ordinary ladybird; this was Blanche, the greatest living diva. She had disappeared for a while following one infamous night when she received only four ovations. She had hit the nectar big time and from the look of her she was still enjoying its company.
“Blanche darling what a surprise.”
Out of the shadows from the back of the auditorium came the voice of the director, a crane fly by the name of Dandy Leslong. Dandy had been in the famous Moulin Rouge and was famous for his high kicks. The French fly floated effortlessly onto the stage and kneeled down next to Blanche.
“You know if I knew you were available I would have called. But I thought you were still…. “His voice trailed off before he said anything incriminating to set the Ladybird off on one of her famous tantrums.
“I discharged my self”, Blanche answered the unasked question, rising to her four feet. “I am here and ready, my public have been starved of me too long.”
“Well I’m afraid they will just have to go hungry a little longer my Dear. We have Lily Lattrice and it is too late for any changes.” Dandy visibly winced waiting for the reaction.
“That fat slug” the ladybird spat out the words.
Dandy attempted to defend his choice of actress. “She is not a slug she is a larva and she can’t help her weight problem, she’s big boned.”
“Except she has no bones” chipped in Victor.
Everybody held their breath, expecting Blanche to boil over into the mother of all rages. But instead she gave a little humph, shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the chaise lounge.
Dandy breathed a massive sigh of relief and hurried down to Lily’s dressing room, “Lily, Darrrling we’re ready for you.”
“I’m not coming out, I’m hideous”, wailed Lily.
“Oh don’t be daft” replied Dandy.
“So you think I’m stupid too.” She cried.
“No I don’t just come out I’ve a surprise for you” teased Dandy.
“What is it?” the sobbing momentarily stopped.
Dandy eased his words out “Blanche is here”
The self pity in Lily’s voiced changed dramatically “That has been, what does she want?”
Dandy lit the blue touch paper “She wants your role.”
“No way!” and with that Lily Lattrice burst down the door nearly knocking poor Dandy off his feet and motored up onto the stage.
Without even a glance at the Ladybird, Lily announced “Blanche, watch how a real artist performs.”
With everybody in place, Victor and Dimitri settled down.
The rehearsal was magnificent the music was awe inspiring, lifting the senses to a higher plane. The chorus sent a shiver down the spine, if you had one that is. But it was the two leads, Lily Lattrice and Dustov Mite that were something else. Never had such raw emotion been seen on any stage in any theatre in the whole world.
The final crescendo grew and grew until in one remarkable moment during “Un bel di”, Lily burst out of her cocoon and literally transformed herself into Madame Butterfly.
Victor and Dimitri went wild; this was going to be the greatest show of all time.
Lily fluttered down next to Dandy.
"I am sorry I got carried away, but you must understand that I can’t perform tonight. A butterfly’s life is short and there are so many things I must see and do,” and with that she flew away.
Blanche smiled as she clambered off the chaise lounge, “I ready when you are Mr Leslongs.”
Copyright Pete Donald 2011
Download for free @ http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/21861/a-night-at-the-opera
“Very average, don’t you agree” he asked.
“Oh yes, very average, dare I say poor” replied Dimitri
“Oh dare, dare” encouraged his fellow critic.
The stage had emptied after three encores.
“Only three,” commented Victor.
“I counted them as well.” added Dimitri. “I mean no self-respecting diva accepts anything less than five.”
“Anyway enough of these amateurs” announced Victor “shall we see how things are progressing with the main show.”
“Indeed we shall,” agreed Dimitri.
And with that the two fleas leapt down from the arm of the plush front row chair and disappeared through a crack in the floorboards.
The open space underground revealed a theatre grander and more splendid than any human stage. There were groups of singers and musicians going through their own personal warm ups in advance of the final rehearsal before tonight’s opening performance.
The chorus were made up of a number of honeybees, all humming “Begluckt darf nun dich” from “Tannhauser” by Wagner. They were under the direction of a very imposing Preying Mantis, Herr Strictland. The Mantis was sweeping the air with his great front limbs in an attempt to keep the chorus together.
All of a sudden he stopped.
“Who was that? Who was that?” He screeched at the top of his voice.
The bees stopped their humming and looked at each other, perplexed at the outburst.
“One of you,” the words spluttered out of Herr Strictland’s mouth, “was out of tune. An off key buzzing that went right through me. Who was it!” demanded Herr Strictland.
The bees knew only too well that swift and severe retribution would befall the guilty party. The hive mentality took hold and the bees kept very quiet.
The silence was broken by the worse piece of humming you have ever heard – screeching like fingers down a blackboard. It was the hoverfly janitor, carried away with the music whist brushing the stage. He was oblivious to all around him; his personal serenade was about to become his swan song.
With a polite burp and lick of the lips Herr Strictland turned back to the orchestra. The Janitor wouldn’t be disturbing them again!
“Again from the top, this time without interruption” cried Herr Strictland.
“This business can be so cruel,” said Victor
“So true” replied Dimitri
The rest of the company continued their endeavours, preparing for the big opening. The orchestra had finished their tuning and tweaking and settled down to run through the various musical set pieces. The bizarre sight of crickets and grasshoppers, locust and cicadas all rubbing their legs in harmony was countered by the splendid sounds that drifted over the theatre. It was music to your ears, wherever they might be located on your body?
Amidst the noise and excitement the leading tenor wandered onto the stage. His mere presence stopped both chorus and orchestra and an impromptu round of applause rang out in appreciation for the great singer.
Herr Strictland scurried over to his maestro.
“Dustov, Dustov we are not worthy of you. You do us the greatest honour by gracing our humble company.”
Dustov Mite may have been a twentieth of the size of Herr Strictland but he brushed away the Mantis with a flick of utter distain.
“I sing that’s what I do, that’s what I am. I bring magic into your lives if only because you are sad pathetic individuals with none of their own.”
“You are so right Comrade Mite,” the smile on the Mantis’s face was stretched to breaking point.
“Now where is my leading lady?” enquired the mite.
“I’m here” a slurred voice carried across the stage, the whole ensemble turned to the corner of the stage to see a ladybird stretched full length on a chaise lounge. This was no ordinary ladybird; this was Blanche, the greatest living diva. She had disappeared for a while following one infamous night when she received only four ovations. She had hit the nectar big time and from the look of her she was still enjoying its company.
“Blanche darling what a surprise.”
Out of the shadows from the back of the auditorium came the voice of the director, a crane fly by the name of Dandy Leslong. Dandy had been in the famous Moulin Rouge and was famous for his high kicks. The French fly floated effortlessly onto the stage and kneeled down next to Blanche.
“You know if I knew you were available I would have called. But I thought you were still…. “His voice trailed off before he said anything incriminating to set the Ladybird off on one of her famous tantrums.
“I discharged my self”, Blanche answered the unasked question, rising to her four feet. “I am here and ready, my public have been starved of me too long.”
“Well I’m afraid they will just have to go hungry a little longer my Dear. We have Lily Lattrice and it is too late for any changes.” Dandy visibly winced waiting for the reaction.
“That fat slug” the ladybird spat out the words.
Dandy attempted to defend his choice of actress. “She is not a slug she is a larva and she can’t help her weight problem, she’s big boned.”
“Except she has no bones” chipped in Victor.
Everybody held their breath, expecting Blanche to boil over into the mother of all rages. But instead she gave a little humph, shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the chaise lounge.
Dandy breathed a massive sigh of relief and hurried down to Lily’s dressing room, “Lily, Darrrling we’re ready for you.”
“I’m not coming out, I’m hideous”, wailed Lily.
“Oh don’t be daft” replied Dandy.
“So you think I’m stupid too.” She cried.
“No I don’t just come out I’ve a surprise for you” teased Dandy.
“What is it?” the sobbing momentarily stopped.
Dandy eased his words out “Blanche is here”
The self pity in Lily’s voiced changed dramatically “That has been, what does she want?”
Dandy lit the blue touch paper “She wants your role.”
“No way!” and with that Lily Lattrice burst down the door nearly knocking poor Dandy off his feet and motored up onto the stage.
Without even a glance at the Ladybird, Lily announced “Blanche, watch how a real artist performs.”
With everybody in place, Victor and Dimitri settled down.
The rehearsal was magnificent the music was awe inspiring, lifting the senses to a higher plane. The chorus sent a shiver down the spine, if you had one that is. But it was the two leads, Lily Lattrice and Dustov Mite that were something else. Never had such raw emotion been seen on any stage in any theatre in the whole world.
The final crescendo grew and grew until in one remarkable moment during “Un bel di”, Lily burst out of her cocoon and literally transformed herself into Madame Butterfly.
Victor and Dimitri went wild; this was going to be the greatest show of all time.
Lily fluttered down next to Dandy.
"I am sorry I got carried away, but you must understand that I can’t perform tonight. A butterfly’s life is short and there are so many things I must see and do,” and with that she flew away.
Blanche smiled as she clambered off the chaise lounge, “I ready when you are Mr Leslongs.”
Copyright Pete Donald 2011
Download for free @ http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/21861/a-night-at-the-opera