As soon as the witch had finished her awful prank on Mr. Oldham and the barber Montesolo, she pulled a few more awful little tricks like those I have already described to you, to which I will only briefly refer:
1) She transformed a bunch of college kids who seemed impudent and ill-bred into splashy frogs.
2) She shrunk a receptionist
3) Disposed of a traffic cop's clothes and replaced them with a ballerina's tulle dress
4) Destroyed the unveiling of a statue. Specifically, he brought to life the statue of General Bedford, who had distinguished himself in an old war between England and Zegmany and neighbouring Frangy. This, as soon as it came to life, went after the mayor and the dignitaries who had gathered for the unveiling, shouting down the traitors of England .
5) To punish a loud little child who refused to leave the playground and follow his father home, he made it take root and take root in the park soil. The worst part was that after a while it turned into a small tree, which even produced funny fruit that no other tree in the country could grow. The phoenixes.
During the evening she decided to leave Happy Hill and head for downtown Ledunu, where she was sure she would find occasions for even more ticklish and spicy antics. The English capital was dotted with quaint traffic lights and illuminated signs, and dozens of cars were speeding through its paved streets. Museums, theatres, cinemas restaurants and attractions such as the great clock, The Big Bean, adorned the impressive city and filled it with grandeur. But these were not the things that caught Edna's attention, though they certainly lent themselves to many amusing antics.
The old hag was saving her strength for a truly disgusting stunt. The horrible idea came to her as she passed over the Royal Opera House in Ledunu, which was having a grand premiere that day. She was putting on a masterpiece of melodrama, the great Zygdalian composer Astolfo Palavini's Christmas Dream, based on Charles Dawkins' masterpiece of the same name, starring the famous but whimsical prima donna Villeta Carousel as the old miser Evénilde Screech, who receives a visit from three spirits and learns the meaning of Christmas.
This performance had made a lot of noise, because the great Diva with her explosive temperament had declared in youthful interviews that she would never, under any circumstances, perform the role of an ugly old, miserly spinster, no matter how old she got. Yet those years had passed. She had matured. Some malicious people even said that she was past her prime and her opinion changed as fewer and fewer new roles were offered to her. However, she had stated in a more recent interview that whatever the director's opinion, she would shed new light on the play and transform the role of the miser. That is, she would interpret it with a new romanticism. I quote here part of this interview.
"When I was younger I had fallen into the trap of seeing Evanilde Skridge in the conventional and old-fashioned way that some old-fashioned directors taught us to see her, as I call them (laughs). But with the maturity that comes naturally in the life of an artist who has known my own fame and enormous successes, spontaneous applause and audience love like no other I have managed to see the hidden aspects of this role and wanted to bring them out.
No, Screech is not a toothless and fawning vulture who counts pounds incessantly, she is a woman still charming despite her years, who can birth love in a man's heart. Who can ignore her underground romance with her poor clerk, Donald Cratchit. Though not overtly manifested, love floats in the air like a fleeting perfume. I intend to give the whole world a whiff of it. It is my hope that the fresh air of renewal which I bring to this work will drive away the mould and other unpleasant odours of an aged and superficial reading of a classic masterpiece which deserves, it must be said, a better fate than it has hitherto enjoyed."
Everyone who read the interview thought that Villette Carousel must have been running away when she gave it, but no one said so openly. You see no one says that about a diva, as obvious as it is. Of course, those who knew her intimately, namely her partners, knew that nothing was further from the truth.
Madame Carousel had not run away before giving the interview, firstly because too much alcohol is bad for the voice and, most importantly, because she didn't need it. She was always drunk on something much stronger than wine or whisky. She was drunk with the arrogance, foolishness and flattery that accompanied her.
Madame Carousel had not run away before giving the interview, firstly because too much alcohol is bad for the voice and, most importantly, because she didn't need it. She was always drunk on something much stronger than wine or whisky. She was drunk on the arrogance, foolishness and philanthropy that had accompanied her from her first steps in singing. Besides, she was furious at being forced to sing this role that she hated simply because the great roles she had sung before she no longer had either the voice or the age to support them as she would have liked. Nor, unfortunately for her, was she able to make the halls of the great theatres vibrate with applause and cheers, as she used to do in performing them. The roles she really longed to sing were now being given to new singers with fresh voices and better attitudes.
There was a historic moment when, still young and furious with a fellow tenor because, while they were singing, he held a note too long, she gave him a good kick and, as soon as he folded up in pain, without it being her turn to sing, she sang a cappella in turn her three most famous arias, stirring up a proper roar. Outraged then, Maestro von Baumgartner, who was conducting the performance, broke his baton and left in tears, declaring that he would never again work with an unhinged spinner without any professionalism. Many such stories were told about this insufferable but picturesque performer. Stories that are of no interest to us and so we will not tell them.
The important thing is that a crowd of people had flocked to the Royal Opera House to hear the famous Diva and her erratic performance of the role of the old miser. High society ladies in impressive dresses, furs and glittering jewels, serious and dignified gentlemen in tuxedos and bow ties, old rivals of Madame Carousel, and even members of the royal family had attended the performance and were now leaving the Royal Opera House chatting, to get their cars and return home.
As they walked out you could hear many comments different from each other .
- Excellent, my dear, excellent, said a mature gentleman. But what a charming woman! You didn't even realize she was playing the old woman. You saw how she counted the pounds. How gracefully she limped along with her arthritis. Like a wounded little dog. Tweety top, tweety top. I was hypnotized by her performance.
- Tragic, it sounded a little too far. I've never had a more boring night. Only this cocksucker would manage to make a classic so bland and insipid. But it's so hard to play the old woman a little convincingly when you're old, for crying out loud.
- She's finally found the role that suits her. This woman looks as if she were born to grow old, giggled Baroness Berthschild, a high society druggist, a little further on. However, the most comical thing was that even now she was still trying to play the childish girl. "You have a great imagination, my dear." Even young as she was, when she was going to pretend to be cute, she was sappy but now you really don't know whether to cry or laugh.
- ROCK, ROCK, ROCK, came the sudden ecstatic voice of a fan, and at those words something like a wild ripple spread through the crowd. A commotion and an excitement. Here came the Villette. Everybody wanted to see her in person, both those who admired her and those who hated her. Some wanted to ask for her autograph, some wanted to have their picture taken with her, everyone wanted something.
Soon Diva made her appearance, somewhat tired but always radiant, in a sparkling outermost gown that opened down, wearing her brightest jewelry and ready to bask in the excitement of the crowd that never got tired of it. "Shut up from your evil druggies" she thought to herself, "even now that I've been forced to sing this crap, I've triumphed."
Around her voices, evil!!! Meanwhile, amidst all the glitter and flashes of photographers, no one, of course, thought to look at the sky. Where is the time for that? Everyone was completely absorbed by Villeta, who, even now, was still trying to conquer the world and play her most beloved role: the role of the adored idol.
But if they had done so, that is, if they had bothered to look up, they might have seen Edna rubbing her hands with wild glee and preparing her next trick. "I'll tidy you up, you scum," she spat into her gaping mouth, her finger stretching and pointing in a single direction, launching terrible unrestrained magical energies. She wasn't pointing down into the crowd, as you might have imagined, but up into the sky. It sent a secret unthinkable command to a single but large cloud that, subdued by its power, took up position over the Royal Opera House and the surrounding buildings.
Meanwhile the people downstairs were commenting, clapping, gossiping in low voices. Note that very few people were carrying umbrellas, since the weather report said that the weather that evening, despite the bitter cold, would be relatively good and did not predict rain or snowfall. No one could imagine what was to follow. Can you imagine all those elegant ladies, with Villette first, who was happily handing out autographs, the gentlemen in tuxedos, the Lords and members of the royal family, the photographers and, above, Edna pointing at the cloud? Suddenly the old woman's eyes on the broomstick flashed and out of her mouth came a single command. "Shoot!!!!"
Immediately the enchanted cloud turned green, then red, then blue, then yellow, and finally began to glow and glow demonically, as if strange mysterious processes were going on in its depths. Suddenly something fell from it. It was a small, almost round thing, as lonely and insignificant as the first drop before a great storm, which began to fall and fall, with nothing that could take it out of its frantic course. It headed straight for the crowd outside the Royal Opera House that moved and pulsed and buzzed like a swarm of bees around a beehive. What was this thing that, subject to the force of gravity, was rushing into the void and where was it destined to end up? At last, after a while, it landed and found its target. It had crashed into a head and had broken, scattering a sickening smell all around. And that was only natural, for the little thing was none other than a particularly stinky, stale egg.
But which head had it fallen on? Can't you guess? Yes, on the head of the cranky Diva, Violet Carousel, who was now spreading a truly disgusting smell all around. A cry of surprise mixed with horror came from all mouths.
- What horror! Someone squealed at the prima donna, a quivering voice was heard.
The only one who did not make a sound was Villeta herself. She was frozen. She thought she was having a bad dream and that she was about to wake up. Before the crowd could recover from the first shock, a second egg as stinky as the first one fell into the crowd, breaking and filling the crowd with its stinky contents.
This time it landed on the head of Baroness Berthschild, who, unlike the others, had not been at all upset when the same thing happened to Madame Carousel. And indeed, if we were to be precise, we should say that she had enjoyed it . But when the same thing happened to her, she didn't Harike at all. She took on a comical expression of utter disgust she cried "Oh my God" and collapsed in the arms of her husband, Baron Berthschild, who let her fall to the ground to hold his nose because the stench was unbearable. All the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, having the horrible suspicion that the thing was going to go on, raised their eyes to heaven in horror. What they saw made them shudder. A rain of caged eggs was coming unchecked towards them. Before they could react thousands of them landed on their faces, in front of them, beside them and behind them and, as their shells broke, a stench the likes of which the Royal Opera House had never known spread everywhere .
But there was no end to the evil, for the huge cloud rained eggshells on the surrounding streets, and so there was nowhere to go to escape. Many women fainted, some cried, some held their noses, some screamed, others retched, but no one could escape the rain of eggs. I cannot describe how pathetic and ridiculous all these previously decent and serious gentlemen and ladies were, thus covered in the disgusting contents of the poached eggs. The only ones who didn't suffer too much were the photographers and paparazzi who had the opportunity to photograph the snooty members of high society in this mess.
Suddenly Villeta, finally realizing that what she was seeing was not a dream, covered as she was almost entirely by the peacock egg, let out a terrible piercing squeal that made you unwind like some of her crowns and immediately began to laughing in a half-mad state. Inside her head the last words of her interview echoed over and over again: "Though not overtly manifested, love floats in the air like a fleeting perfume. I intend to let the whole world smell it." They smelled something, she thought, and they smelled it well. She laughed giggled and cackled, unable to stop. But it wasn't long before her crazy laughter turned to crying and then to a terrible burst of anger. In a state of perfect hysteria, she began kicking left and right, pulling her hair, grabbing photographers' cameras, breaking them and threatening everyone.
- Bastards! Dirty bastards! Who's responsible for this? If you think I'm going to put up with this, you're mistaken. I will not allow my big night to be spoiled.
Glorify me, ye vagrants, glorify me! I am the Diva of the ages. Whoever's to blame for this whole fiasco will pay for it. I swear it, the Carousel Carousel!!!!
In the midst of all this chaos from somewhere far away came a goblin's falsetto song :
Poor Mrs. Villeta
Run, my friend, run and see
Who decided to bring
the perfume of change
They flocked to see her
Important people
And many to admire her
They came from afar
But oh what misfortune
And great misfortune
That they were drowned in filth
And the cages and the eggs
Another scent they went
To smell at last
and found another. What do you want them for?
Life has them.
The truth is that that disgusting rain didn't last very long but it was enough to fill the Royal Opera House and the surrounding streets with a stench that would take a long time to go away. In the end, almost stepping on each other, all these great gentlemen and ladies, steaming unbearably, managed to make their way out of that place and into their cars, to return to their homes after an evening they would all prefer to forget.