• Michelle Halliwell

3 Men at the Recital

3 men sit next to each other like dynamite next to a wick next to an open flame. The one on the left has white peach fuzz on his head, the one in the middle has white hair, and the one on the right is blonde. They face the stage, an empty piano under a spotlight.

"You know the musicians who put on these shows are underpaid," Peach Fuzz says.

"No they're not," baldy says.

"Yes they are, and they graduate college deeply in debt, and they can't afford quality healthcare."

"I'm going to make music great again," Blondie says.

"I'm just an average Joe! I just like things how they are, jack ass!" baldy says.

"It's unfair. The corporate interests that run this recital are ripping off the performers," Peach Fuzz says.

"If it's the market rate, I don't see what you're complaining about," Blondie says.

"When I was a kid, there was a sandwich made out of fish," Baldy says.

"If we do everything right, if we do it with absolute certainty, there's still a 30% chance we're going to get it wrong," Baldy says.

"You've never done anything right," Blondie says.

"Workers of America unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains!" Peach Fuzz says.

"Yeah I'd like to take you out behind the gym. That's what I'd like to do!" Baldy says.

"The top one percent took away my bag of potato chips!" Peach Fuzz says.

"Oh I'd like that. That wouldn't last too long," Blondie says.

She strolls out wearing a red dress, her blonde hair as mesmerizing as fire. The 3 old men stare at her bosom as she bows deeply. She mystifies as if a mysterious light from a forgotten angel realm shines through her. Sitting down at the piano with her back perfectly straight and her delicate wrists raised above the keys, the hammers out the first notes of Moonlight Sonata.

The rhythm hypnotizes them into astonished silence as three sad notes caress the deepest sadness of their souls. The notes repeat and tears of sadness and of joy stream down Blondie's bronze face. She moves with the grace and the energy of lioness stalking dinner.

The song ends. The three old men stare with dropped jaws as she bows before them again, confusing them as to how she can walk so gracefully in such tall high heels. She disappears behind the curtain, even as the clapping continues like a torrential downpour.

"Now she deserves a 15 dollar minimum wage," Peach Fuzz says.

"I'm gonna make music great again," Blondie says.

"Commie!" Baldy yells.


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©2019 by Michelle Halliwell