Francesca looked at him, embarrassed, and tried to help him wipe the banana stains from his britches as the one-eyed manservant laughed menacingly.
(ooh, menacingly....
)
Once again, the fire in his loins began to grow, which was most embarrassing and obvious as he stood there in the street in his tight leather britches.
Luca laughed at him, screaming, "Look everyone, it's Pee-nocchio!" as neighbors opened shutters all up and down the block to get a look.
Two donkeys and that stupid mezzo soprano with her weird friend who she thought could carry a tune, and they all were poised on his threshhold looking like they had been tossed about in a strong scirocco.
The maestro noticed with disgust how Francesca's head seemed to be tilted back and to the left, and what appeared to be a bone sticking out of the side of her neck, which she appeared to be completely unaware of as she tended to the front of the cheap-looking man's pants, this stranger whom she had brought here to his home, seemingly through the nearest swamp, from the looks of them.
Francesca nudged Carlo, and he immediately broke into song.
The storm suddenly broke as he began, almost as if it were giving proper respect to his angelically beautiful voice, and the people on the street hung out their shutters in dead silence, listening to the most beautiful, perfect-pitch, melodious and powerful voice any of them had ever heard, and in that moment, time stopped, and as the moon shone down on the puddles of the cobbled street, where Carlo had them all mesmerized, captive to his brilliance, Cesare clutched at his heart, a tear in his eye, and said . . .
Che bella voce!! (or something like that)
The townspeople burst into a spontaneous ovation, and shouts of "Bravo!", "Que bellisimo!", and "This guy's good!" could be heard echoing through the streets of the town.
Dwarves from the local circus heaved Carlo up onto their shoulders and ran with him through the narrow streets, while Francesca, permanently looking sideways, and encumbered by a torn skirt and several patches of damp banana, ran behind the crowd pursued by several of the local dogs.
The Maestro immediately called his friend, Paolo Puccelli, the director of the Sorrento Light Opera, and exclaimed, "Paolo!...our troubles are solved!... I have found the replacement lead for our production of The Barber of Seville!...the show can go on!"
The Maestro decided he would invite them to sit on his back terrace, and signalled to Giorgio to bring the Vernacchia and the better wine glasses.
While his guests were seating themselves he announced " I think I am going to replace the WHOLE crew! Those midgets were just astounding in thier presentation and thier brute strength! Why who wouldnt want to indulge themselves in a play with nothing but little people running around?"
"Brilliant!" the guests all exclaimed, lifting their wine glasses in a toast to the Maestro, Carlo and the midgets while Francesca tried in vain to drink her Vernacchia with her head tilted sideways.
One of the midgets yelled out suddenly, "Hey, that lady has a big cracked jaggedy-edged looking bone sticking out of her neck--Is there a doctor in the house?"
At once Luca stepped forward, revealing that she had, in fact, just completed an online correspondence course in orthopedic surgery.
Her one eye surveyed the detached cervical disk that was poking out of Francesca's neck, and after a moment, she was brusquely barking orders, "Okay, I'm gonna need some pruning shears, an acetylene torch, a roll of duct tape, and a couple a' bobbypins . . . Stat!"
Her correspondence course had, unfortunately, not been comprehensive, and although she could identify and treat broken necks and other terrible injuries, she could not finish off the operation successfully.
As her mind wandered off into a daydream, thoughts of how much fun she had had taking the "Qualified Medical Doctor" course via email, ran through her headÂ…and made her smile wickedly as it brought back such fond memories of her lover.
