At the Symphony and Other (very) short stories

[hectorberlioz]

This is my favorite story that I've written. I wrote it in memory of the hilarious games me and my younger brothers use to play with our Star Wars figures. It's quite silly...

AT THE SYMPHONY

"Ah yes! Concert day!" this was probably the attitude of everyone on this particular Friday evening. Half the concert auditorium was filled already, and there was only ten minutes before the concert began. This was a particularly important day for the Anaber Symphony Orchestra, and for its conductor, Royal Guarde. On the programme were some of the most exciting and glorious works written. To begin, there was L. Garindan's zesty "Page" overture, then followed by Guarde's own Symphony no.2 in B sharp (there's no such thing as B sharp). Last, but not least, there was a new Piano Concerto by Shmi Skywalker, which she herself would play tonight.
As the Orchestra players prepared themselves, and as the last seats were filled and the hubbub continued; Maestro Royale Guarde entered the symphony hall via the front door. "Ah yes, Guarde...a bit late aren't you?" Guarde met his rival conductor Madine at the entrance to the auditorium. "A bit..." Guarde growled.
We walked into the auditorium, but suddenly stopped, and realized his immediate need to use the restroom. He decided to brave it out till the five-minute break after the Symphony no.2, and then he'd go.
He quickly made his way to the podium and prepared the scores. "Still four minutes left...I can go now..." Bah! He didn't have to go that badly.

He suffered little during the five, six-minute overture. During the Symphony he squirmed a little more than a conductor should. For once he wished he'd written something shorter than this thirty-minute work. But it wasn't too bad.

At last, the five-minute break came, and Guarde walked towards the restrooms as fast as could. Just as he touched the door to the Gents bathroom, there was a tap at his shoulder. It was Shmi. She wanted to ask as question, he could tell.
"Um...I have a question. Should I play the middle movement of the concerto with more...emphasis? You can't impress everyone, but-"
"Just play it! Who cares?! Guarde was getting frustrated. He had two minutes left to be back in the auditorium, and here was Shmi asking a question about a pointless little detail that should have been worked out days ago, and he had to use the restroom very, very badly!
Shmi stalked off mad. Guarde pushed on the restroom door. It wouldn't budge. He glared at the out-of-order signed taped neatly to it. The Ladies bathroom was locked too, and the other set of bathrooms were on the other side of the building; it would take two minutes just to get there.
Then the intercom blasted out the dreaded message: " Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats. Our concert will continue in just a moment. Thank You."
There was nothing to do but brave it through once again...


As the Orchestra players finished tuning up their instruments, Shmi got up and started to make a speech. Guarde seethed and grunted in disapproval, as well as in pain. Why on earth was Shmi giving this stupid, unexpected speech?! Why couldn’t they just start!
“...So, this inspired me to write a bit more," Shmi was saying, "in consequence, this concerto will take about an hour. Note especially the long, slow middle adagio..." Shmi talked and talked, then finally thanked the audience for listening to her long, boring speech that was costing the conductor so much pain.
She sat down at the piano, very slowly, and stretched her fingers. "Let's get on with it!" Guarde yelled impatiently. The audience gasped in surprise, but finally figured that their conductor was just impatient because of his enthusiasm for music.

So the Concerto started. The Piano trilled, and the orchestra followed suit. Guarde was getting more and more impatient with each passing bar as he directed the musicians. He was in a considerable amount of pain and anxiety. He intermittently growled, and once even yelled. The audience interpreted this as Guarde's way of expressing his emotions (but he'd never done this before!) that the music aroused in him. A few viewed this with disapproval, but most were awed at their conductor's expressiveness, and they whispered things like, "Isn't he so INSPIRIED?” to their neighbors. And the neighbors would reply, "No, no; he's so inspirING."

The long adagio (which means slow) was the most unbearable for Royal Guarde. It didn't help that there were many solo piano passages, so that he had to direct the orchestra very little. He'd found that moving a lot made his suffering a bit more bearable.
Unfortunately, the longest solo part yet was now upon him, and it was an achingly slow part that Shmi played with a soft touch that annoyed him. Peering down at the score (there were so many parts that he didn't remember from the rehearsals!) he saw that the end of the solo part was just notes away. To his surprise (and to the orchestra's), Shmi decided to recap by playing the solo part again! Guarde let out a long, very audible groan of frustration as he signaled for the orchestra to wait.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (yes, from Lemony Snicket), the audience was interpreting this groan. "I can see why he's so moved, the music is so...profound!" that is probably what the audience was thinking at this moment.

Finally, the third and last part of the Concerto began. Thankfully for Guarde, it was Allegro (fast) and he had plenty to do.
Shmi's hands were flying up-and-down the keyboard, and the orchestra was playing the wild musical leaps in a very exciting way.
Just when the music slowed, and Guarde thought it was over, he glanced at the score to find that a short trumpet solo was coming up. He signaled for the trumpeter to begin. The string section played louder and faster as the trumpet played softer and slower. Guarde let a yell. The urgency of his need was Absolutely Unbearable. Never mind what the audience thought.

The final moments of the concerto were intense. Guarde leaped and gyrated hysterically (not, under normal circumstances, a normal habit of his when conducting), Shmi literally pounded on the piano, and at one point, even stood up in the excitement... The Orchestra played it all loudly, and wildly.
Guarde leaped and yelled. The audience stirred. The final notes sounded.
The Orchestra players, Shmi, and the Audience watched in wonder as Royal Guarde rushed out of the auditorium yelling and waving his arms wildly.

As people filed out of the building, they talked about how charismatic their conductor was. It was not a concert to be forgotten. Not by the audience, not by the orchestra, and especially not by the conductor.