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Post by Irene on May 4, 2007 19:33:22 GMT -5
*Irene was dressed in a gown of black lace. As the sorceress Karlana, although her character was on the side of good, she projected a certain sinister charm. Smiling, she sang her aria with a cobra she had managed to tame drapped across her shoulder.*
You have to understand the way I am,
Mein Herr.
A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb.
Mein Herr.
You'll never turn the vinegar to jam,
Mein Herr.
So I do...
What I do...
When I'm through...
Then I'm through...
And I'm through...
Toodle-oo!
Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr.
Farewell, mein Lieber Herr.
It was a fine affair,
But now it's over.
And though I used to care,
I need the open air.
You're better off without me,
Mein Herr.
Don't dab your eye, mein Herr,
Or wonder why, Mein Herr.
I've always told you I was a rover.
You mustn't knit your brow,
You should have known by now
You'd every cause to doubt me,
Mein, Herr.
The continent of Europe is so wide,
Mein Herr.
Not only up and down, but side to side,
Mein Herr.
I couldn't ever cross it if I tried,
Mein Herr.
So I do..
What I can...
Inch by inch...
Step by step...
Mile by mile...
Man by man.
Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr.
Farewell, mein Lieber Herr.
It was a fine affair,
But now it's over.
And though I used to care,
I need the open air.
You're better off without me,
Mein Herr.
Don't dab your eye, mein Herr,
Or wonder why, Mein Herr.
I've always told you I was a rover.
You mustn't knit your brow,
You should have known by now
You'd every cause to doubt me,
Mein, Herr.
Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr;
Farewell, mein Lieber Herr.
It was a fine affair,
But now it's over.
And though I-
Used to care,
I need the-
Open air.
You're better off
Without me,
You'll get on
Without me
Auf wiedersehen,...
Bye bye mein Herr!
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Post by magenta on May 5, 2007 13:28:55 GMT -5
((Btw: Irene's "aria" was from Cabaret. Magenta's is from The Musical of Musicals.))
*Magenta was dressed in bright green as the Wise Woman. She smiled and began her song:*
Sometimes I think I'm having a thought
But then I realize I'm not
You see
I have birds
I have little birds
Flying 'round my head
Fly, little birds, fly
Surround my golden hair
Build a pretty nest up there
Who cleans the messes
They leave in my tresses
Your guess is as good as mine
Fly, little birds, fly
Don't poke me in the eye
It's hard to hear your words
As I might have said
With all these little birds
Flying 'round my head.
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Post by Christine on May 5, 2007 22:31:59 GMT -5
*As Christine's character had been added in late, she did not have an aria, but a recitetive with Magenta:* Christine: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
Magenta: We're closin' for lunch.
Christine: Never mind that, my girl. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Magenta: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
Christine: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my girl. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!
Magenta: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.
Christine: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Magenta: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!
Christine: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
Magenta: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!
Christine: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up! 'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show...
Magenta: There, he moved!
Christine: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!
Magenta: I never!!
Christine: Yes, you did!
Magenta: I never, never did anything...
Christine: 'ELLO POLLY!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call! Now that's what I call a dead parrot.
Magenta: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!
Christine: STUNNED?!?
Magenta: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major.
Christine: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.
Magenta: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.
Christine: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?
Magenta: The Norwegian Blue prefers keepin' on it's back! Remarkable bird, id'nit, squire? Lovely plumage!
Christine: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
Magenta: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!
Christine: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!
Magenta: No no! 'E's pining!
Christine: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
Magenta: Well, I'd better replace it, then. Sorry miss, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of parrots.
Christine: I see. I see, I get the picture.
Magenta: I got a slug.
Christine: Pray, does it talk?
Magenta: Nnnnot really.
Christine: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!! !!?
Magenta: N-no, I guess not.
Christine: Well.
Magenta: D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?
Christine: Yeah, all right, sure. |
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Post by Dr. Fell on May 5, 2007 22:35:34 GMT -5
((I adore you.))
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Post by Christine on May 5, 2007 22:37:14 GMT -5
((As long as we were putting random crap into the Opera...))
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Post by Ed Wood on May 7, 2007 11:57:09 GMT -5
*Ed stood just backstage, silently mouthing the lines along with the actors. A look of glee suffused his features.*
"Oh yes," *he muttered.* "This will be perfect."
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Post by magenta on May 8, 2007 18:17:03 GMT -5
((I think the parrot sketch was some of the best dialouge he ever wrote.  ) |
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Post by Erik on May 9, 2007 13:49:53 GMT -5
*Erik watched from high above as Christine spouted nonsense and a slight, black-haired man in the wings followed her every move. Hungrily. This would simply not do.*
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Post by Lady Norrington on May 9, 2007 13:51:45 GMT -5
((Oh, my God. THE PARROT SKETCH. AS RECITATIVE.
I love you.))
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Post by Ed Wood on May 9, 2007 13:55:01 GMT -5
*He heard the "whoosh" sound for only a moment, but he'd been in WWII, and he knew when to duck. So when the sandbag landed, it was not on his head but rather just behind him, striking the wood floor with a low thunk that suggested he would not have enjoyed it on his skull.
He looked up into the flies, but saw nothing. He decided to laugh it off. Just like one of his scary movies!*
"Okay, everyone, back to work!"
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Post by Philippe on May 11, 2007 13:04:56 GMT -5
*Philippe glanced up into the wings.*
He's here.
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Post by Lune on May 13, 2007 10:45:08 GMT -5
*Lune looked surprised at Philippe.*
"Who? Is it...the opera ghost? I've heard people mention him once or twice."
*Lune followed Philippe's glance up into the wings, but she couldn't see anything.*
I can't see him...too bad; I would have liked to meet him.
*Lune went on stage, dressed in a simple yet beautiful darkblue dress, as her part Gogilla and sang her aria. ((Memory from Cats))*
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight
The withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Every street lamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And the street lamp gutters
And soon it will be morning
Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
The street lamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning
Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is
Look, a new day has begun
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Post by Philippe on May 17, 2007 11:19:32 GMT -5
*Philippe stood and walked slowly over to the wings. But he could see nothing. As he was about to turn back his ears caught the sound of singing. Moving around, his eyes focused on the girl he had just been speaking to.*
One could fall in love with a voice like that.
((Philippe likes'um married it seems...))
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Post by Lune on May 17, 2007 14:33:06 GMT -5
*Lune felt someone watching her. She saw it was Philippe, the man she just spoke to. After finishing her song, she smiled gently and walked over to him.*
"Was I any good?"
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Kurt
- Ingenious Pilot -
Pure as Mountain Snow. ^__^
Posts: 228
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Post by Kurt on May 18, 2007 7:11:34 GMT -5
*Kurt entered the place and set the tray of lemonade down on a table.*
"If anyone wants refreshments."
*He pointed at the tray.*
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!!? 
)
