indeedsir_backup | [Fic] Eine Kleine Woostermusik (Reply)

Here, to get the proverbial creative turbines spinning again, is something short and sweet I composed a while back. I had meant it as sort of a 'bonus fic' for a longer submission (you know, like those little movies you sometimes get before the long one comes on), but seeing as how the development team at work has somehow been reduced to me and me alone, and my other job is demanding miracles, I haven't had a whole lot of time to sleep or eat, never mind write. Good Lord. Everyone wants a piece of me!

Title: Eine Kleine Woostermusik
Summary: I (attempt to) sing opera, and sometimes I even get the strange plaguing desire to listen to others sing it. I was tuned into the local opera programme one evening, and pretending I was the combined forces of the J. and the W. as I usually do when this one came on the mental airwaves.
Rating: G
Words: 700-something
Disclaimer: Mr. W, I sing your praises! If 'twere not for you, a worthless, wordless amoeba I would remain.
Warning: In my zealous rush, this remains unbeta-ed. All awfulness is mine.

It was as we were toodling back from Brinkley Court that the thing began. There is a stretch of sheep pastures in whose passing radio signals become rather few and far between. For many, this may not matter a whit. But as the two-seater had recently received a cosmetic upgrade by way of a radio receiver installed on the dash, the presence or absence of signals on long drives was very much of interest to me. And, as it turned out, to my man Jeeves when I became a poor conversational companion.

As I dozed off in the passenger's seat on the evening in question, Jeeves had happened to tune into the one station going that evening.

'Jeeves,' I said upon waking some ways into the programme.

'Sir?'

'What is this?'

'To what are you referring, sir?'

'This... noise, on the radio.'

'Is it opera, sir. Mozart, to be precise.'

I heard a small sniff in the dark environs.

'Mozart?' I said.

'Yes, sir, the well-known classical Austrian composer.'

'Ah, yes. I suppose I've heard of him.'

'Very good, sir.'

'Is this it, then?'

'Sir?'

'I mean, isn't there anything else on?'

'No, sir. I was fortunate to find the one station.'

'Ah, well.'

I listened a bit more until I became aware of a problem.

'Jeeves?' I said.

'Sir?'

'What's wrong with them?'

'Who, sir?'

'The people er... singing, if you will.'

'Nothing is wrong with them, sir.'

'They sound as though someone is stepping on their unshod toes. They are yelling, Jeeves.'

'No, sir. It is simply the manner in which opera is sung.'

'Hm,' I said without conviction. 'You like this stuff, then, do you, Jeeves?'

'Yes, sir. However, if it is not pleasing to you, I shall turn it off.'

'No, no. It's alright. Leave it on, Jeeves.'

'Thank you, sir.'

A few more sheep rolled past the windows. I tried adjusting my head, on the off chance that this opera business sounded better in one ear than the other. I thought longingly of those Ginger-Headed Sailors.

'I don't suppose you'd prefer to hear me sing, Jeeves?' I said.

An eyebrow rose slowly in the shadows.

'No, thank you, sir.'

'Not much for the contemporary stuff, are you, Jeeves?'

'Not as such, sir.'

Well, I thought I'd give this opera thing a try, if Jeeves liked it so much. A few days after our return I trotted over to Bixby's Music Emporium and bought a book of this Mozart chap. I was giving the first tune a whirl that afternoon when Jeeves poured in.

'Ah, Jeeves.'

'Is everything alright, sir?' He looked uncommonly concerned, like that time I nearly snuffed it under the wheels of an omnibus in Picadilly Circus.

'Everything is quite jolly, Jeeves,' I said reassuringly. 'I'm trying my hand at this opera thing.'

'Indeed, sir?'

I know a sceptic when I see one, so I let loose a few more bars.

'Mozart, Jeeves,' I said by way of encouragement.

'Is it really, sir?'

'Yes. I know you like the old bird, so I picked up a book of his this morning.'

The feudal light began to shine in Jeeves' eyes once more.

'That was very kind of you, sir,' he said.

'Ah, here,' I said, finding a new piece that looked quite ripping.

As I launched in, Jeeves rallied to my elbow.

'Sir,' he said as I paused for breath.

'Jeeves?'

'I am sorry to say it, sir, but it appears you have made a mistake.'

'Bit flat on the f-sharp, wasn't I?'

'Well, yes, sir. But this is a book of arias for soprano voice.'

'Soprano, Jeeves?'

'Yes, sir. The highest range of the female voice.'

'Oh.'

'Your singing is most assuredly of baritone register, sir.'

'Not soprano, then?'

'No, sir.'

'Oh, well. Rather.'

'Indeed, sir.'

'I don't suppose you're a soprano, then, Jeeves?'

'Most unlikely, sir.'

I squinted at the man in astonishment.

'Are you smiling, Jeeves?'

'No, sir.'

'Because it looks like you're smiling.'

'A trick of the light, sir.'

I studied him closely. There was a decided tremor about the corners of the mouth, but some things must be forgiven when the man in question is Jeeves.

'Right ho, Jeeves,' I said.

'Very good, sir.'

Fin