THE CONCERT

January 17, 2010

The hall was decked with Buddy Holly memorabilia. The stage was bare except for a tremendous amount of clutter – rafts, pencil sharpeners, beehives, etc. The water in the orchestra pit was two feet deep. The musicians waded in and took their places. The theater was plunged into darkness. The audience erupted in wild glee when a single spotlight followed the maestro sliding down a wire from the balcony. For three hours the insanely robust applause continued unabated. And why not? The maestro conducted the entire time standing on one leg while blindfolded. The musicians wisely feigned playing. After all, no instrument could possibly be heard above the deafening racket produced by the spectators. With a final flourish the maestro flung his baton high in the air and slid back up the wire to the balcony and beyond through the wall and out into the night. The musicians waded away. The audience filed out. The stage manager locked up. Silence reigned in the hall until demonic laughter echoed above the pit water. From under a raft on the stage crept a laughing grin. Oh, how it laughed. It laughed and laughed and laughed.

2 Responses to “THE CONCERT”

  1. It’s not a good idea to eat quinoa sprouts right before going to sleep, Doc.

  2. I must admit that one does worry about one’s own sanity when one reads what one sometimes writes.

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