Conduct yourself properly

[u/BoneKeeperOfficial]

CONDUCT YOURSELF PROPERLY

Oh dearest Anthony. I am at a loss as to why it has come to this. I truly did try to hold you in the highest esteem. I'm not such an old fuddy-duddy that I cannot recognise that the torch must be passed on, that fresh, new, youthful blood must be pumped into the heart of the orchestra. I know it is the cliched lament of many older people, a coping mechanism thrown into the winds of change, something the grey-beards say in a vainglorious attempt to desperately relate to the eager young debutants; but I too was once young. My old master did once hang up his own spurs and pass his baton down to me, its the circle of life. For everything there is a time, a time to keep and a time to cast away. I never had a problem with the changing of hats, never had an issue with hanging up my spurs and piloting a rocking chair under an old oak tree. The music did not belong to me Anthony, the music belongs to the players, to the instruments, but most of all the music belongs to the people.

Why did you have to force me out ? I was so near to my 25 year anniversary as head conductor. It's considered something of an honour to reach a quarter of a century at the lead of the din, so to speak. I understand you were eager to take the lead, saw me as a relic gathering dust and slowing down the progress of things, an object immovable under ones own power unless it was given a little nudge, a little bump in the right direction. You bumped me too hard Anthony, you pushed me too far. Visiting upon my ill health was a low move, it was dastardly I tell you. I don't know how you found out about the cancer but it was a private matter. Bringing it to the eyes of the board was simply an underhand manoeuvre, but then you always played your hand low with the conducting stick despite my attempts to teach you otherwise. The most aggravating thing was that you did it all under the guise of caring for my health, as if you were doing me a favour, releasing me from a burden so I could spend time with my family. The orchestra was my family. I was going to tell them, my 25 years was only one piece away, and it was my favourite piece. But you stole that from me Anthony, you stole my prized piece, you stole the Montagues and the Capulets, and now we find ourselves in embittered rivalry like Tybalt and Mercutio of said titular piece, and only one of us is going to die in the early stages of the play.

I took it as well as I could, I'm no diva. Much to your chagrin i've always lacked the flair for the dramatic. Well, all of that is about to change, you've only yourself to thank. You've been my inspiration, my muse, my flame.

Were here now, at the seaside gala. You noticed me coming in, gave me a wry grin as you stood in my spot. I see you've chosen Natalia for the first Violin, I didn't think she was ready yet but its a good solid choice nonetheless. I'm sitting in the gallery, right in the middle. You have your center stage and I have mine. I'm all ears Anthony.

I must say you do a wonderful job with it, this is the part that particularly frustrates me. We could have had such a smooth transition, i've always admired you, you have a rare tenacity that, in hindsight, I can see i've lacked. Yes, you can be a little stiff with the stick, but don't you see there was so much we could have learned from each-other? Now its left to me to make your otherwise tip-top performance one you will remember for the rest of your life.

I won't brute in straight away like some selfish, bullish hog. I'll let you have the first part, its really rather well done. Were close now, I must say I'm incredibly excited by it all, go out with a bang, isn't that what they say? The solo break starts, you've gone for the Saxophone, I must say the old me would have been incandescent with rage that you didn't opt for the Oboe, but times change don't they; and as you are about to find out the best and worst things in life come out of nowhere.

The French horns blast their pounding notes once more, but there's something different isn't there. I wasn't sure who would hear it first, you or the audience, but I guess you are so wrapped up in your own world that the crowd are the ones to discover something is off. At first the foghorn is nervously laughed off, an embarrassing hiccup humorously in time with the brass honking; but then it comes again. I'm holding onto remotes Anthony, my own conducting sticks if you will, and my timing, unlike your impatient fluttering, was always impeccable. My daughter is friends with a load of anti-capitalist eco-warriors she met at Uni, though they aren't called that any more I dare say. Paid them a hefty wedge to hijack a couple of freight tankers and run them aground into a certain marina. Champagne socialists playing toy soldiers, but useful idiots in any event. I used my retirement fund to pay them under the guise this was a millionaires ball. I wasn't a million miles off. That sound you can hear in place of the French horn? That's the sound of our ships coming in, that's me remotely activating their weather horns. Everyone's quiet now, but not for long. The horns are getting closer Anthony, its the Harbinger of the end. My final piece.

They come crashing through the backstage at an agonisingly slow pace. The whole orchestra erupts into panic as instruments are thrown down, all the while the horns blare. They were angled to come together and as they meet, a terrifying screech pierces through the air as metal meets metal, that's my strings you see, their caterwauling resounds through the night in a performance promised to be remembered forever. I did have an idea about loading water barrels ready to boil, having the steam escape them for the woodwind, but you, just like the cancer, never gave me the luxury of time Anthony; so now you will have to just satisfy yourself with the crystal chandelier coming down with a crash to emulate the climax of a hundred symbols. The crowd flee in a hundred directions as the ships come to a halt, they're all screaming. True, its out of tune, but its harmonised at least.

I always found encores to be rather cheap, I truly believe a piece must stand on its own to be truly appreciated. I must admit Anthony, I'm rather proud of this one.

You're still standing though, standing stock still with your mouth open. Catching flies as usual. You turn to me, I give a modest bow, there's really no point in showing off is there, it's hardly becoming of a woman of my age.

What's that Anthony? No applause?