Musical Masterpiece

Last night I had the unfathomable pleasure of seeing a performance by a rather large group of untrained orphans. Now they did a rather good job of disguising the poor childrens various disorders and sheep like qualities but, in truth, I am rather smart and saw straight through their cunning plan. The night started at 6:45 when I found out that apparently my brother was in a concert playing the cello and I was to be dragged along to see it. The next 15 minutes I'm not proud of as I begged and wailed, gnashing my teeth together and tearing paintings and pictures from the wall. Eventually my mother resorted to her usual threat and punishment which was no food for a month and a few quick lashings with the old whip. 

I realised the error of my ways after looking down the barrel of two weeks without food or water and one of them to be spent in the box. I quickly went to my room and bandaged myself up smartish before tossing on various clothes that suited the occasion, IE: Tophat, monocle, coat (complete with tails), britches,  smart black shoes with shining buckles and a brand new timepiece I'd picked up in the West Indies. My Aunt and Uncle arrived shortly after, which allowed us a short respite from the verbal battering we were all receiving at the hands of our mother, and the seven of us piled into the five of us piled into the four seater car and proceeded off to a night of musical entertainment.

Finding a car park was rather easy once my mother set her sights on one a good four or five blocks from the theatre in which our performance would take place. We all picked up our coat-tails,cocked our respective top hats at a jaunty angle and set off on our hike to the end destination. Upon our arrival I checked my timepiece and found, to my intense dislike, that we were on time. Looks like I was going to get the whole performance.

We pushed our way through the invisible throng of people to the entrance to the seating area. There stood an elderly man who glanced at the tickets and handed us a single sheet of paper, on which the proceedings were laid out. It was worth its weight in gold. We fell upon it, snapping at one another and invoking the wraths of various ancient gods in an attempt to see how long it was that we would have to stay here. Eventually it was taken up by a certain noble gentleman, myself, and the proceedings were read. There were to be four songs performed by the string orchestra, followed by four songs performed by the choir. Then another four songs by the junior orchestra and then another three by another string orchestra, we were assured they were made up of different musicians as the first group. 

A few of us burst into tears at the formidable line up but we had to remain strong. There were seats to be found. Through watering eyes I surveyed the seats and spied a comfortable spot at the far back, it avoided the light and looked like a nice spot for a snooze in between, and during, songs. Apparently this was not acceptable and my mother shuffled us towards a set of seats in the middle of the masses and swathed in bright artificial light. Once seated I took the remaining five minutes to survey the audience. Most were rather ill dressed peasants, not a top hat in sight, and a few looked rather pale as they read over the pamphlet describing the night's events. There were a few excitable looking parents, probably first timers, who hadn't realized what they had signed up for when the wife first squeezed a screaming carbon mass from her womb. These parents had brought video cameras and grand parents along. The video cameras lit up their faces as they looked eagerly into the wings and waved excitably whenever a child, they didn't seem to care whose it was, poked its greasy head out of the curtains. The grand parents merely slumped into their seats and proceeded to slowly die. I rather thought I could associate with them quite nicely.

Unfortunately, before I could reach for the cyanide pill I have always kept with me since I a particularly horrid fourth grade concert, a tired looking teacher dragged himself onto the stage. His hair was slightly ruffled and his tie was undone, revealing his buttons, which had been done up in the wrong order. He proceeded to thank various parents and institutions in a monotone voice that lulled me into an ever deeper slumber. Eventually he wandered off the stage and, as my mind descended into pleasant darkness a sharp squealing sound could be heard.

I jerked up right, assuming the worst, and glanced left and right, attempting to spy the poor bird which had been trapped inside the stifling room. There was no multicoloured pigeons, but I did spy an awfully daunting set of children already in place and playing some horrible song. Strings were hit with something that they thought resembled a beat, and violins were scraped with shocking ferocity. this continued for far too long and I took to naming the children by a combination of racial slurs and mocking physical features. For the most part these are far too inappropriate to be printed on this page but rest assured they did the job and I was able to pass the time until the final chord was wailed out and the conductor collapsed onto the stage in tears. He was carried off by a crew of old women who rather resembled gremlins and order was restored to the masses of snotty children as they dragged their instruments off stage. After the crew of children had finally left the stage they were replaced by yet another group of children who proceeded to belt out rather horrible songs in a combination of breaking voices and monotone wailing. It was all pretty standard until the third song rolled around. At this point the conductor gave a rather conspiratorial wink to the children and they all started making hand motions.

My mouth agape I gazed out on the swaying mass of flailing limbs and belted harmony's. I shut my jaw but had to hold it still in order to stop myself from laughing. In order to restrain myself I took to looking through the crowd and spot the most dysfunctional child. It was a three-way draw. On the right hand side, of the front row, was a child who tended to gaze around at the awnings and ceiling, rather than sing, and opened his mouth in terrific yawns whenever he spotted an interesting looking roof tile. Three rows behind him was another kid who would fling his arms out at every chance and exaggerated every motion to the point of pummelling the two children who stood on either side of him. One of them, a skinny little kid with long black hair was constantly hit and moved steadily towards the edge of the benches where, it was my constant hope, he almost fell off into the drum set just below him.

 I wiled away about half of a song dreaming of the loud crash and shriek that would accompany the boy's descent into the set of tom-toms and cymbals. But alas it did not happen and I spent the last song watching my third member of the tie.This member was a short-rotund little girl with thick glasses and cropped hair. She gazed around the room with a toothy grin and consistently clapped off beat. The only thing this choir seemed to be able to do was clap on beat so you would hear a loud clap after every line of yankee doodle or whatever they were singing, followed by a singular slap, as the girl wacked her meaty fists together and grinned stubbornly at the conductor. 

The rest of the performance passes with little incident, only a stoned drummer and repeat affair of the horrid string group was heard, and I rather think my eardrums burst at some point, which provided me with a delightful respite. On the ride home, now complete with another member to join the clown car, I happily listened to the buzzing my ears was picking up and humming along to one of the songs that, against my will, had cemented itself in my mind. Once home I hung up my coat, put anticeptic on my whip wounds and collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

<> 

Longest post yet?

Longest post yet. 

Aaaaawww shit

1453 words :D