Giulianzo's Plato’s Academy of Florence and the Confraternity of the Magi discussion
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The Cuckoo Of The Opera
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He stopped her as she was walking into a coffee shop (after all, all opera singers [except those Finnish ones] like coffee), and said,
"Tell me, do you prefer Mozart or Beethoven? And may I buy you coffee and some
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"Why, sure," said Renee Fleming, "I do love pastries. And Mozart."
So, the two of them continued to enter the pâtisserie, sat down, and ordered two espressos and some chocolate croissants (Dr. Watson had a weakness for those).
"Ms. Fleming, I adore your work," Watson said as he picked up a croissant.
"Thank you, Mr...?" her voice trailed off.
"Dr. Watson."
"Dr. Watson?" she laughed, "Like Sherlock Holmes?"
"He's on business, madam," Watson smiled politely. Renee Fleming continued laughing, "But I was around town, and found this amazing room at the Opéra National de Paris which has amazing acoustics, perfect for some scenes of that Cosa Rara I heard that you were Queen Isabella in."
"Oh!" she exclaimed! "Why, where might it be?" She had set down her pastry by then. "I do need somewhere to perform on tour. My last agent wasn't very good- I only performed at small things like the American Superbowl."Dr. Watson was shocked. "How terrible! Would some jellybeans and a tour of the opera house suffice to make you feel better?"
"Yes," the great singer replied. "I'm partial to watermelon jellybeans, though."
"Oh," the doctor replied, "I suppose that would be okay, as I prefer
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"The room is the abandoned Opéra National de Paris."
"Oh," she gasped, "That one? I can't... I couldn't..."
"Why not? The hall has great acoustics, and-"
"Because
don't you know?!?! The phantom!"The good doctor furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why," he said, "whatever do you mean?"
"The Phantom of the Opera! It would make no sense to go to a haunted opera house."
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"Oh," she replied, "but what if? What if there really is a phantom?""Ms. Fleming," Doctor Watson replied, "there is no phantom, for there is no such thing. However, I have heard tale that there is
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"Oh," she smiled happily. Dr. Watson knew that 'acoustics' caught every opera singer's attention.
"Shall we go explore it? You can try any aria you like - I play the piano, you know."
"An idea full of splendor!" she exclaimed. The waiter came by the table with a bowl of the watermellon flavored jelly beans. Renee Fleming took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth. "You know, I shouldn't eat these before I sing."
"Why ever not?"
"Because
they might alter my voice somehow. I once got one lodged in my throat and couldn't sing for days." "Well, that's a perfectly good reason not to eat them." Dr. Watson says, grabbing a jelly bean for himself. "I suppose you can enjoy them after your performance.
Renee finishes her final jelly bean with a gulp and a sigh. The watermelon flavor lingered in her mouth but was eventually drowned out by saliva.
And so we find Dr. Watson and Ms. Fleming in the haunted opera house, walking through the halls, into the balconies. Finally, they get to the room where
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roses and masks, to commemorate the famous show that was believed to have taken place in that very opera house. As fate would have it, the duo stepped into the room right as the clock struck twelve, which signaled twelve bars to be played from
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"Such a spectacular clock!" exclaimed Renee Fleming.
"I did not see it before," Watson commented, "Maybe I didn't notice it."
Renee Fleming walked over to the clock, and looked into the glass door, where she could see
ornate carvings of birds in the rosewood. Suddenly, the cuckoo lunged out and
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the lights went out! Renee almost screamed, but, remembering her voice, went instead to a warm-up on an A above the staff. Dr. Watson clamped his hands over his ears and screamed, "
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"Sorry," she gasped, "I just had played Donna Elvira at the ENO and I had to scream so I'd been practicing."
"Well, it's a great scream," he laughed, "Where are you? I can't see anything... wait a moment..." Watson always carried a flashlight in his pocket. He tried to find it, but it wasn't there, "Oh, damn!" he exclaimed, not being able to find it.
"What's the problem?"
"Someone stole my flashlight! Weird, my wallet is still in my pocket..."
"Are you missing anything, Ms. Fleming?""I'm not sure. Let me check through my clutch."
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"Where are you?" Asked Watson.
"Over here."
He followed the sound of her voice until they ran into each other.
"What do you think happened?" she asked.
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Renee and Watson both freaked. They grabbed each other like little girls and screamed, Watson's voice somehow higher than Renee's.
"Dr. Watson!" she exclaimed. "Take it down a semitone! Holding the frequency of that high-high C for much longer can shatter glass! We don't need that problem, too." He immediately headed her warning and took it down not a semitone, but an entire octave, though the note still remained over the treble staff.
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A shadow moved in the corner.
"Oh god oh god oh god..." He said, "oh god oh god oh go-"
"Zitti!" Renee put her hand over his mouth.
"We need Sherlock," he said. "How else can we figure this out?""Dr. Watson!!!" she said. "You can do it yourself."
"Very well," he said. "I shall conduct an investigation. Ms. Fleming, when was the last time you went to the movies? Birdwatching?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked, puzzled.
"Just answer the questions, please. When?"
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"Where do you sit?"
"Well-"
"Balconies? Box seats? Orchestra?"
"Box seats. Company seats. They are usually horrible. I-"
"When was the last time you saw one?"
"Last Saturday at the Covent Garden. La fille du régiment. Juan Diego Flórez was lovely!"
"So what about birdwatching? I must know about birdwatching.""Dr. Watson, I've never bird-watched in my entire-"
"Moving on! Cloud gazing?"
"Dr. Watson! Maybe when I was, say, five years old!"
"When did you last sing into a pond and cause waves to form?"
"Is that even possible, Dr. Watson?"
"This is impossible, Ms. Fleming. You must answer each question precisely and thoroughly, not exaggerating any details, but not omitting them. Can you do that, ma'am?"
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Suddenly there was the strangest of sounds. A tick tick tick then DONG!!!!!!
Watson gripped Renee's hand again. But he didn't scream.
Instead, a bird-like call sprang from his mouth.
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The clock struck again.
Then they heard sounds, music. It echoed through the operahouse, making it almost impossible to trace. Dr. Watson immediately set out on one trail of search, but Renee stood there, captivated by the sound.
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Renee snapped out of her stupor and, spotting a dark shadow on the stage who she assumed was Watson, climbed down the stairs from the balcony and walked down the aisle of the auditorium. She heaved herself onto the stage, but the figure had vanished. "Hello?!" she cried. "Is anyone there?"
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Renee recognized all the songs. What should she do, though?
She decided on investigating the stage area.
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"Okay," he replied, "I'll come wi-" she heard him yelling, but then there was silence.
"John?"
The lights flickered on, off, then back on again. "John?!" She continued to shriek, sounding more hysteric each time. In fact, she almost fainted, but she knew it wasn't real because it was a stage faint; she was falling backwards. She knew that know one fell backwards when they fainted.
Then she toppled back again, but it felt real. Then she blacked out. The last thin she heard was a distant but audible cuckoo...
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That's all Watson could hear. Each time, the ticks were getting louder, then softer... louder, then softer.
He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything. Where am I?<?em>
The lights flashed on in the theatre as someone grazed Watson's arm. "Might wanna get up, buddy," he said. "You'll be trampled by this crowd."
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"Where... am... I...?"
Nobody answered.
"Renee...?"
He approached someone to ask, but something stopped him in his tracks. The actors and actresses were saying lines from "Phantom of the Opera." "Excuse me sir," he said to the man nearest him, "but is this a performance of 'Phantom of the Opera'?Or perhaps a rehearsal?"
The man looked at him clearly. "What is this 'Phantom of the Opera' that you refer to?"
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"Don Giovanni," he replied, "Opening night!" he bounced on his toes in excitement, "Who are you not to know?!"
Watson was taken aback. "I-" he just stopped. The house was just empty. There is no new production of Don Giovanni. And the old one is not set in an era where they wore clothing like that.
Now, since for some reason people tend not to approach haunted opera houses, this cuckoo had not been discovered. But when Dr. Watson (Sherlock Holmes was away on business matters, something to do with Moriarte) just so happened to see Renee Fleming roaming the streets of London, he felt compelled to show her an opera house perfect for