(If pain persists, see your doctor)
The Marriage of Figaro
The one that Largo al factotum doesn't come from
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY, NATURETHEZAFARA, SUPERMIMBLES360 and WITCHCHAO arrive at a large, bustling theatre in the middle of nowhere, all dressed to the nines and ready for a night of high-brow culture ripe for lampooning.
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: You know, I'm pretty sure I managed to get us better seats than the ones we had for Così fan tutte. My bank account would certainly agree.
NATURETHEZAFARA: (scratching at her legs) These stockings are so itchy! Man, did the seamstress really have to starch them all over?!
SUPERMIMBLES360: . . . I wish I had a Kodona outfit instead of this dress . . .
WITCHCHAO: I might not know much, but I do know Figaro is Italian, so why don't we call me . . . "CIAO"!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: . . . I hate to be a pedant . . . but he's technically Spanish-via-Italy-via-France. But that aside, you've got it, Ciao!
NATURETHEZAFARA: (doubtlessly thinking of Axis Powers Hetalia) Oh, the horrible mental images!
SUPERMIMBLES360: On that note, we should probably get our tickets and get to our seats.
WITCHCHAO: I thought we got our tickets in advance this time; isn't that why we have the good seats?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: Didn't we establish that already?
NATURETHEZAFARA: Yeah, we really should go in, before my imagination gets the better of me again and OH GOSH, FRANCIS LET GO OF FELICIANO AND ANTONIO, WILL YOU?!
So saying, the group makes their way through the foyer.
NATURETHEZAFARA: Ooh, Jabbers, look at the architecture of this place! So very pretty! And it's air-conditioned too!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: It certainly is pretty! Though you'll notice they're very fond of red.
WITCHCHAO: Gary Oak would not approve.
Our heroes find their seats. In the pit, the ORCHESTRA can be heard tuning their instruments.
WITCHCHAO: (claps like a giddy moron in excitement at hearing the orchestra)
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (bouncing in her seat) I know, right? Hearing that's almost as exciting as the opera itself!
The audience applauds as the CONDUCTOR enters the pit and silences the orchestra. The lights dim and the orchestra play the OVERTURE.
SEVERAL AUDIENCE MEMBERS: OH MY GOSH! SO THIS IS WHAT THAT'S FROM!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: I'd say "Rachmaninoff", but I doubt anyone would get the joke . . .
An ACTOR suddenly walks onto the stage from the wings, in front of the curtains. Half the audience chatters in confusion about him doing so; the other half points and laughs.
NATURETHEZAFARA: Is he even supposed to pop up yet?
SUPERMIMBLES360: Probably not.
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: No one's supposed to show up during the overture . . . and besides, the CURTAIN IS STILL DOWN!
An OVERSIZED SHEPHERD'S CROOK comes out from the wings and yanks the man offstage. The audience applauds his removal, which coincides with the conclusion of the overture, and the curtain rises.
SCENE: THE ALMAVIVA CHATEAU JUST OUTSIDE SEVILLE, SPAIN where the rain, allegedly, stays mainly on the plain.
The chateau is owned by COUNT ALMAVIVA, who when he was in The barber of Seville used to be cool. Now he is NOT. He lives there with his wife, the COUNTESS ROSINA and his extensive serving staff.
On the day they are due to be wed, FIGARO valet to the count and his fiancée SUSANNA the countess' maid are together in the small room that is to be their chamber. Figaro is slowly pacing across the room with a long measuring tape in hand; Susanna is admiring her new bonnet in a mirror.
FIGARO: FIVE! AH-AH-AH! TEN! AH-AH-AH! TWENTY! AH-AH-AH!
SUSANNA: Fig, you're doing that thing again.
FIGARO: THIR oh, I am? Shoot, I guess the Count really is rubbing off on me. (He moves back to the rear of the room and starts again)
SUSANNA: (turning back to the mirror) It really is a lovely bonnet, isn't it, Figaro? I made it myself, you know!
FIGARO: (not listening to Susanna) Five . . . ten . . . twenty . . . thirty . . .
SUSANNA: (stamping her foot impatiently) AHEM!
FIGARO: Thirty-si AHHH! DON'T DO THAT!
SUSANNA: You weren't paying any attention to a single word I said just then, were you?
FIGARO: Oh, you were talking just now, were you? Sorry, I've been busy figuring out the dimensions of the room so we can work out where to put the bed!
SUSANNA: Speaking of which, I won't allow that measuring tape into our bed if it will be that much of a distraction.
FIGARO: But of course not we're going to be much too busy to do any measuring in bed, silly! Now then . . . thirty . . . no wait, that's not right . . . ARGH! Now I've lost my place!
SUSANNA: Thirty-six, love.
FIGARO: Ah yes, thank you, dear. (He resumes measuring)
SUSANNA: Darling, it's not that I don't appreciate what you're doing but . . . have you stopped to think why the Count gave us this room specifically?
NATURETHEZAFARA: Must . . . not crack . . . pervy joke . . .
SUPERMIMBLES360: You can do it!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: Chances are it'll work too, given the plot!
WITCHCHAO: You can do it all night long!
SUPERMIMBLES360: Euphemism Five! (She high-fives WitchChao)
THE OPERA: (which has stopped on account of the audience chatter) DO YOU MIND?!
SUSANNA: What do you think, Figaro? I mean, the Count could have given us any room in the castle, and yet he chose this one.
FIGARO: What's there to think about?
SUSANNA: . . . okay, I realise lateral thinking isn't your forte, so I'll break it down for you . . . (She goes over to a door on the far side of the room) You see this door here? It's connected only to a hallway . . . which leads directly to the Count's chambers. Now why do you think that would be?
THE ORCHESTRA: (plays the theme from Jeopardy)
FIGARO: As you said, he could've given us any room in the castle. Why, it wouldn't surprise me if he stuffed the names of all the rooms here into one of his servant's caps and pulled this room out randomly by sheer chance . . .
SUSANNA: Oh, honey, if only it was sheer chance!
FIGARO: Wait . . . you don't think the Count intends to spy on us, do you?
SUPERMIMBLES360: The Count is a voyeur?!
NATURETHEZAFARA: Or maybe he's a bit of a pervert . . .
SUPERMIMBLES360: Isn't that what I just said, though?
SUSANNA: All right, I'll spell it out for you. (She pauses, as if steeling her nerves) You might remember that there's this little . . . "right" that the Count abolished, but now wants to reinstate . . . specifically, the one that allows him to bed any servant girl on her wedding night, even before her husband has a chance to touch her! And, well . . . you know what today is . . .
FIGARO: (gasping in horror) How dare he!
SUSANNA: I know, but he can and all things considered he probably will.
FIGARO: Fear not, my love! I will make sure he never even so much as lays a finger on you!
SUSANNA: That's awfully sweet of you, Fig, but who knows what he'll do to you if you try to deny him this right.
FIGARO: Why, the very thought that the Count would reinstate that awful right specifically to have his way with you on our wedding night is absurd! Despicable! PERVERSION AT ITS FINEST!
NatureTheZafara, visibly quite traumatised, starts sobbing into Inverted-Jabberwocky's shoulder.
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (stroking NatureTheZafara's hair) Don't worry, it gets better, I promise.
SUSANNA: I've been thinking night and day about this for many a week, and I've decided there's only one chance for us we must somehow convince the Count to relinquish this right!
FIGARO: I agree . . . and with a bit of luck, he may not need too much convincing he isn't the brightest candle burning in the mortuary.
SUSANNA: That's very true. I might also have a word with the Countess she may have some ideas.
FIGARO: Then it's settled! I shall speak with the Count, you the Countess, and we'll meet at, say, seven hundred hours, just before the cake arrives! (aside) But I'll be doing a lot more than just talking! REVENGE!
So saying, Figaro takes off, presumably in search of the Count.
SCENE: The chateau's ENTRANCE COURTYARD.
MARCELLINA, the Count's housekeeper approaches the chateau's main entrance with BARTOLO, her former employer and a doctor, in tow.
MARCELLINA: Hi, I'm Marcellina! You may remember me from such Beaumarchais plays as Le barbier de Seville and La folle journée!
BARTOLO: This had BETTER be good.
MARCELLINA: Pray, don't interrupt my exposition! That Figaro! He never paid me back for that money I loaned him all those eons ago!
BARTOLO: Oh yes, that money. At least it wasn't a thieving mouse that stole it.
MARCELLINA: And of course, you'll remember that he promised should he not repay the debt to marry me in return!
BARTOLO: Ohohoho! Yes, I do remember that! I'm sure he'll make a wonderful husband! (aside) Not. Perhaps I'll be able to get some money myself I did fritter away darling Rosina's dowry about two months after I received it . . .
MARCELLINA: Now then, Bartolo, shoo! Go on, shoo! You're cramping my style!
BARTOLO: Hmph! Fine! Perhaps I will leave, you crazy old beldam! (He wanders a short distance away, into the garden) Perhaps those bushes will provide good cover I just HAVE to see how this plays out!
ANTONIO, the gardener who also happens to be Susanna's uncle comes ambling past and stops suddenly, spotting Bartolo.
ANTONIO: I did not erect those bushes there for people to act as peeping toms behind them!
BARTOLO: Shoo! Shoo! I am eavesdropping, not peeping, foolish uneducated garden-tender!
ANTONIO: (ducking down behind the bushes with Bartolo) What difference does it make?!
BARTOLO: It makes all the difference in the world! One requires my ears, and the other my eyes. One I would do to gratify myself, and the other to obtain vital information.
ANTONIO: Might I suggest you take your rather hairy hands back home to your chamber if you so choose to prioritise the former.
BARTOLO: I resent that "hairy hands" remark! And furthermore, I have no intention of going back to my chamber or spying on women solely for my own pleasure . . . yet, so I insist that you leave me be before that crone discovers I still lie in wait behind these bushes.
ANTONIO: If she does spot you, it will most likely be because of those "dapper" black robes of yours and not my presence!
He promptly leaves, as Marcellina approaches the main doors.
MARCELLINA: AT LAST! REVENGE WILL BE MINE! REVEEEEEE
The door suddenly opens, revealing Susanna.
SUSANNA: Not to be rude or anything, but do you think you could take that awful caterwauling elsewhere?
MARCELLINA: Oh, but of course I wouldn't have exclaimed so had I known it might disturb someone!
SUSANNA: All right then, off you go!
MARCELLINA: Oh, no, after you!
SUSANNA: No, I insist, after you!
MARCELLINA: Oh, but I insist! You go first!
AUDIENCE: SOMEBODY MOVE ALREADY! YEESH!
SUSANNA: You go, please, or we'll be here all day! Bloody old fossil . . .
MARCELLINA: . . . THERE WAS AN INSULT SOMEWHERE IN THERE, I'M SURE OF IT! And I am going to leave first, purely to spite you! Humph! Bartolo, we're leaving! Where are you?
BARTOLO: (staggering out of the bushes) I am here! Pardon me, Marcellina, I was just . . . smelling the roses. Literally.
MARCELLINA: There'll be plenty of time of time for that later! For now, we must leave and further discuss the plan!
BARTOLO: As you wish, Your Marcelliness.
Susanna closes the door and returns to the chamber reserved for her and Figaro.
SUSANNA: What is that crazy old cow's problem, anyway?
Sitting on a chair, she produces a laundry basket containing several items of the Countess' clothing, which she begins sorting through and folding. Suddenly, CHERUBINO Almaviva's teenaged page boy and godson of the Countess comes rushing into the room, flustered.
CHERUBINO: Oh, Susanna! Susanna, you've gotta help me!
It's probably worth mentioning that Cherubino is a PANTS ROLE that is, a WOMAN IN DRAG.
AUDIENCE: I was going to say, between that voice and those hips, "he's" not fooling anyone.
SUSANNA: Breathe, boy, breathe. What's the matter?
CHERUBINO: You know Barbarina? The gardener's kid?
SUSANNA: I should hope so she's my cousin, remember?
CHERUBINO: Yesterday, she invited me up to her room to see her snail collection. And then we got there, and she told me she doesn't have a snail collection! She's cool like that, you know. But then, the Count came in and started screaming all this stuff about how he's gonna throw me out because he's sick and tired of catching me chatting up girls!
Suddenly, there is a knocking at the door.
SUSANNA: Now who could that be?
She goes to open the door; a BOY IN AN APRON, about Cherubino's age, enters wheeling a cart full of baking supplies.
BOY: Hello! Are you the Countess Almaviva?
SUSANNA: Countess? Me? Well, I'm flattered that you think I look so regal, but no I'm the Countess' maid.
BOY: Ah! But of course I knew that! A thousand pardons, madam. I'm Bavón, the baker's apprentice! I wished to see the Countess as this was to be a surprise for you and your groom . . . but I suppose I'll have to tell you now. You see, there's been a huge mix up, and we simply can't finish and deliver your wedding cake on time from the bakery, so I must bake it in your kitchen.
SUSANNA: Oh! Well, that shouldn't be a problem . . . but you might want to check with the kitchen staff first.
BAVÓN: All right then!
He goes to leave but suddenly stops upon spotting Cherubino, who is surreptitiously pocketing one of the ribbons from the laundry basket.
BAVÓN: Say, who's this handsome young lad?
CHERUBINO: Wh-who, me?
BAVÓN: Yes, you, you pretty thing, you!
CHERUBINO: Who I am is none of your business! And I like girls and women preferably the older, the better and nothing else!
BAVÓN: . . . I'll be here for about four hours, if you change your mind . . .
Dejected, he wheels his cart out of the room, closing the door behind him.
CHERUBINO: . . . when this is all over, I'm gonna do some seriously manly stuff. Like, spitting and . . . and . . . and killing small animals. Yeah, manly stuff. Anyway, Susanna, can you do anything to help me? I'm really worried about what the Count'll do!
SUSANNA: I suppose I could have a word with the Countess about getting you some sort of pardon. Or rather, why don't you speak with her she is your godmother, after all.
BAVÓN: (eavesdropping through the door) He's the Countess' godson?! (Downcast, he hangs his head and trudges off to the kitchen) Who was I kidding?
Cherubino suddenly blushes and stares at the ground, fidgeting sheepishly.
CHERUBINO: (coyly) Oh . . . I couldn't possibly talk with Godmamma . . .
SUSANNA: Why, whatever is the problem?
CHERUBINO: Oh, it's not exactly a problem, it's just . . . (He suddenly grins goofily) Godmamma Rosina's totally hot, you know!
SUSANNA: . . . I suppose so . . .
CHERUBINO: Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about her lately. Well, I've been thinking a lot about all the ladies here even you, Susanna!
SUSANNA: Oh, well that probably means you're wait, what?
CHERUBINO: Sometimes I dream about Godmamma, and sometimes about Barbarina, and sometimes about you, too! And sometimes, I dream about the three of you together! And then after those particular dreams, I always wake up to find I'm covered in this sticky white flu
SUSANNA: Please stop, or I'm going to lose my breakfast.
CHERUBINO: which means I'm either hitting puberty . . . or I'm turning into SPIDER-MAN!
SUSANNA: . . . your logic makes my head hurt.
CHERUBINO: I even wrote a song all about it for Godmamma and everything!
NatureTheZafara turns around to see two sheepish-looking men sitting behind her.
NATURETHEZAFARA: Why are you guys blushing?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: Yeah, what's so embarrassing about Spider-Man?
CHERUBINO: So, yeah, could you please ask Godmamma Rosina to talk to the Count?
SUSANNA: I suppose I cou
There is suddenly a loud knocking at the door.
VOICE: Susanna! Is that you in there? I need someone to rant to!
CHERUBINO: OH SHI IT'S THE COUNT! HIDE ME, QUICK!
WITCHCHAO AND YAOI FANGIRLS: GO TO THE KITCHEN.
As there is nowhere to hide, Cherubino jumps behind a large chair.
NATURETHEZAFARA: This cannot end well. (She leans against Inverted-Jabberwocky and hides her eyes behind her program)
COUNT: Susanna . . . ?
SUSANNA: C-coming, my lord!
NATURETHEZAFARA: This really isn't going to end well . . .
Susanna opens the door slowly, giving Cherubino a few extra seconds to properly conceal himself. Behind them, Bartolo peers in through a window.
COUNT: (striding in) Ah, Susanna! You're alone? Brilliant . . .
NATURETHEZAFARA: (squeaks in horror, hiding her eyes once again)
BARTOLO: Ohohoho! This could prove to be most advantageous!
SUSANNA: (sighs) You wished to rant, my lord?
COUNT: Rant? Oh, why, yes! Yes of course! That jumped-up little Cherubino, always strutting about like he owns the place and its women! I hate him!
SUSANNA: Sir, you're more than twice his age. Surely he poses no threat to you.
COUNT: H-he doesn't pose any threat, of course! He's absolutely no threat to my manliness at all! I just hate him!
BARTOLO: And now they're yelling. How tragic . . . and profiting! Her Marcelliness will be most pleased to find I have the perfect blackmail to get her money. (aside) And maybe she'll finally stop riding my arse . . . figuratively speaking, of course.
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: But why, Bartolo? You know you lurve it!
WITCHCHAO: I know, right? (He and Inverted-Jabberwocky slap a high-five)
COUNT: Oh, yes . . . since I've got you here, Susanna . . . have you given any thought to my . . . proposal?
SUSANNA: Please, my lord, don't even . . .
COUNT: Don't even what, my dear? I do not presume to do anything! I simply asked what you have been doing.
SUSANNA: Sir . . .
COUNT: But of course, I'll pay you handsomely for your efforts, Susanna I've a huge dowry with your name on it! Just forgo the usual wedding night formalities, and it's all yours!
SUSANNA: You know, sir . . . anywhere outside of the estate, a transaction like that would probably be called "prostitution".
COUNT: (laughing) Comparing yourself to a grubby little whore? I do so love your sense of humour, Susanna! All I ask is that you eschew spending your wedding night in your marriage bed with Figaro in favour of spending it with me in the garden! If you're still in any doubt, I'll have you know that I'm quite the cunning linguist!
AUDIENCE: . . . OH, NO HE DIDN'T!
Susanna throws up in her mouth, as do several audience members. From beyond the door, the sound of approaching footsteps can suddenly be heard.
VOICE: Hm, appears he isn't here. Oh well, perhaps one of the rabble has seen him. Wait . . . who the hell am I talking to?
COUNT: That voice! It's Basilio! What the blazes is he doing here?! Susanna, get rid of him, quickly!
SUSANNA: . . . why don't you just leave?
COUNT: And have the rest of the staff see me leave here? Never! Think of all the gossiping that would cause! No, there's only one thing for it I shall hide in here until you get rid of him!
SUSANNA: But sir
COUNT: Ah! That chair looks as if it would provide ample cover!
Realising the Count is about to hide behind the chair, she all but hoists Cherubino by the nape of his neck and tosses him onto the chair, hastily removing her apron and throwing it over him. The Count hides himself behind the chair, and Susanna only just manages to position herself between it and the opening door; in steps DON BASILIO a music teacher, the Count's odd-jobs man and regular contributor to the local gossip rag The Seville Slanderer.
BASILIO: Ah, Susanna! May Heaven smile upon you on this fine day . . . nope, I just can't abide small talk, so I'll cut right to the chase: you haven't seen the Count anywhere, have you? Figaro is looking for him, you see.
SUSANNA: His Lordship? What in the world makes you think I've seen him? Now, kindly go away. You may have failed to notice, but I'm getting married in a few hours' time so as you can imagine, I'm rather busy.
Basilio strides further into the room, somehow overlooking the rather conspicuous Cherubino-shaped lump on the chair.
BASILIO: Oh, but this won't take long, my sweet. Could you not simply help me look for His Lordship? And given this auspicious day, he may even be presently looking for you it's no secret how fond he is of you!
SUSANNA: . . . if I find out this whole thing is an interview you're concocting for your silly little paper . . .
BASILIO: Oh! Crueller words were never spoken! Am I not allowed to have a simple discourse with a friend? And, seeing as we are friends, I'm sure you'll not mind my saying that I'm rather surprised you'd spurn His Lordship's affections in favour of, say, those of a certain amorous little page boy . . .
BASILIO: None other! I saw him snooping around here not a few minutes ago of that I'm certain!
SUSANNA: And, believe it or not, he went scurrying off as soon as he saw me. Would that you'd do the same.
BASILIO: "Went scurrying off", did he? Doubtlessly in search of other ladies, I shouldn't wonder. Why, rumour has it he's even set his sights Her Ladyship his own godmother, for Heaven's sake!
SUSANNA: How dare you even suggest such a thing! That is nothing more than slander, no two ways about it! You, sir, are a disgrace!
BASILIO: Slander? Me? Oh, dear Susanna, how you wound me! I'm merely relating what everyone in the chateau has been saying! What's more, I've certainly seen the way he looks at her! I'm just telling you what I know!
Furious, the Count suddenly reveals himself. Susanna buries her head in her hands, Basilio looks faintly amused and at the window outside, Bartolo jumps in surprise, falling head over heels into the hedges below.
BARTOLO: (untangling himself from the hedge, suit all soiled) Hmph! I think I have enough at this point to say I can get out of here! I need to reapply my Darkness body spray anyway . . .
COUNT: Pray, tell me! What exactly do you know?
BASILIO: Everything that you've been dying to know! No, wait . . . sorry, that sounded a lot better in my head . . . (He pauses, thinking) All right, I've come up with better line! Ask "What exactly do you know?" again!
COUNT: . . . no!
SUSANNA: My lord, you can't possibly believe what this man says there are times I truly think the sole purpose of his existence is to make others miserable!
BASILIO: But of course! How else would I keep myself entertained in this veritable hellhole of ennui?
COUNT: That little wretch! To think he would even dare look at my wife in that way! When I get my hands on him, I'll . . . I'll . . . (He turns to Basilio) Go and have the boy thrown out immediately!
SUSANNA: (aside) Oh, Heavens! How can I stop this? What would Her Ladyship do?
She is pensive for a moment, then is struck with an idea.
SUSANNA: Oh, whatever is happening?! The room seems to be spinning . . . I can't breathe . . .
She staggers and feigns swooning, dropping unceremoniously to the ground. Neither the Count nor Basilio appear to notice.
SUSANNA: (briefly opening an eye) Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for . . .
Basilio goes to leave the room, tripping over the prone Susanna on his way out.
BASILIO: Oh, why the poor thing's fainted dead away!
COUNT: Don't just stand there then, man hurry and fetch her some ham sandwiches and hay!
BASILIO: But of course! Perhaps she'll be more comfortable in this chair . . .
So saying, he takes hold of one of Susanna's wrists and begins dragging her towards the Cherubino-occupied chair. Realising what he is doing, she springs awake.
SUSANNA: H-how dare you! Unhand me at once!
She tears her arm from Basilio's grasp and slaps his hand away for good measure.
BASILIO: Now, now, there's no need for all that we were just trying to help you!
SUSANNA: Get out, the both of you! I'll not tolerate you spreading those awful lies about Cherubino any longer!
COUNT: "Awful lies"? Hardly! I've seen with my own eyes just how the boy is always sniffing around all the other women here. Why, just yesterday I caught him with your little cousin Barbarina!
SUSANNA: (feigning surprise) Oh, really?
COUNT: Indeed! I went to pay her a visit and found she'd locked her door. When she opened it, she was being oddly evasive and kept babbling something about a snail collection, so I naturally took that as a signal to barge into her room and have a little look around. That's when I noticed the bedclothes seemed a little . . . odd, so I lifted them to see why they were behaving in such a strange way.
As he says this, he nonchalantly lifts Susanna's apron off the chair to demonstrate, unknowingly revealing Cherubino.
COUNT: And then, you'll never guess what I saw!
SUSANNA: . . . her snail collection?
CHERUBINO: (unable to keep from squeaking in terror)
COUNT: (whirling around) ARGH! Wh-what the devil are you doing here?!
BASILIO: Oh, my! What a delicious scandal! (He pulls a memorandum book and pencil from his pocket, feverishly making notes) This is certain to make the front page!
COUNT: Susanna, when in the world did he get here? I never saw him enter!
SUSANNA: Well, when do you think, sir? Certainly not after you entered, I should think.
COUNT: Then where the blazes was he when I entered?
SUSANNA: Behind the chair, of course. Where else could he have been?
COUNT: But . . . but that's where I was after Basilio entered!
SUSANNA: It astounds me what does and does not escape your notice.
COUNT: Ye gods! Then that means he heard everything I said to you about . . .
CHERUBINO: Um, if anyone asks, I'll just say I didn't hear anything especially not you making a pass at Susanna, honest!
COUNT: Why, you brazen little
SUSANNA: Please don't be hard on him, my lord! He's just a boy just an incurably amorous, sweet and lovable boy of only thirteen, if Monsieur Beaumarchais is to be believed.
COUNT: Right, and I'm the king of Barataria!
SCENE: THE ENTRY GATES TO THE ALMAVIVA ESTATE.
Bartolo once again approaches the estate, clean new suit and body spray applied, and singing a merry tune to himself. However, no sooner does he reach the front gate than a rather elaborate yet rickety-looking coach comes barrelling down the road and runs him over, parking squarely on top of him. Out from it steps none other than everyone's favourite collections agent, mortician and healer MINNIE MOUSE.
MINNIE: Oh, what a beautiful day today!
The mouse, with who knows what intentions, politely but rather loudly knocks on the chateau's front door. Inside, BARBARINA, Antonio's teenage daughter and Susanna's cousin, comes down the stairs at the sound of the rather incessant knocking.
BARBARINA: Hmm, that's strange . . . I'm sure the wedding guests weren't meant to arrive this early . . . also, where's the doorman gone? Normally, he can't stand people constantly knocking at the door like that!
MINNIE: (from outside) OH, I DO HOPE SOMEONE IS HOME!
BARBARINA: (approaching the door but not opening it) Um, hello, whoever that might be! The doorman whose job it is to open the door seems to have gone missing, so . . . you may be stuck out there for a little while, I'm afraid.
MINNIE: Oh, deary me. Can't you let a poor mouse in? I've very important business to attend to!
BARBARINA: Business? Oh, are you here for my cousin's wedding, perhaps?
BARTOLO: (from somewhere beneath the coach) Just open the damn door so she'll get this coach off me!
MINNIE: Oh! Wh-why of course I'm here for the wedding! What else would I be here for, the funeral of that charming man trapped beneath my coach?
BARBARINA: (throwing open the door) What charming man? Where?
MINNIE: Never mind him. I need to know where the baker's apprentice has gone. It appears he's forgotten something and I'm here to return it to him.
BARBARINA: Um . . . I don't know who you're talking about . . . but if there is someone like that here, I guess they'd probably be in the kitchen.
MINNIE: Well, thank you, little Miss! I'll be certain to mention your kind manners to the host of this lavish estate!
With that, she trots off to the kitchen.
BARBARINA: Um . . . okay, then . . .
SCENE: Susanna and Figaro's chamber.
The tense atmosphere in the room is spectacularly alleviated when the doors suddenly fly open and Figaro enters in full bluster, accompanied by a crowd of villagers each carrying a small basket of flowers.
SUSANNA: (somewhat flustered by the ill-timing of it all) F-Figaro? What brings you here like this?
FIGARO: Hello there, my pet! (He embraces her, then whispers) Don't worry, I've put the first phase of our plan for revenge into action!
CROWD: Our noble lord is so kind, so generous! Praise him!
COUNT: . . . what's the meaning of all this?
FIGARO: Why, when these good people of the village heard how you abolished that horrible right, they felt it only natural to come here and express their heartfelt gratitude!
COUNT: "That horrible . . ." But what nonsense you speak! I did away with that right years ago!
FIGARO: Well, the fact is that my dear Susanna and I are the first couple to be married since that time! And, my lord, if you would do us the honour of placing this white veil upon my soon-to-be-wife's head proclaiming her beautiful, completely unspoiled chastity to all we would be most humbled!
COUNT: (aside) Wherever do my servants get such strange ideas from? (aloud) Oh, but of course I will . . . tonight.
SUSANNA: B-but, sir
COUNT: I wish to personally assure that these two faithful servants have only the most lavish of weddings, and my performing that right will be accompanied by an equally lavish ceremony!
CROWD MEMBER: So . . . you're expecting us to just drop everything and come aaaaaaaaaall the way back here tonight?
COUNT: You'll get free cake!
CROWD: WE'RE IN.
They gleefully toss their flowers, baskets and all, into the air.
SUSANNA: Well then . . . I suppose someone will have to inform that Bavón fellow that we'll be needing a larger cake . . .
COUNT: (to the crowd) Yes, well, we won't be getting anything done if you all insist on standing about! Go head on back to your village!
The crowd all squeeze past each other in an attempt to get out the door. After what seems like a superhuman effort, they somehow all manage to leave.
FIGARO: Your Lordship is too kind! Let's give three cheers! Hurrah!
CHERUBINO: . . .
FIGARO: It's not like you to be so quiet!
CHERUBINO: I'm not much in the mood for cheering . . .
SUSANNA: His Lordship means to have him thrown out, you see.
FIGARO: On such a joyous occasion as our wedding day? Surely not, my lord!
SUSANNA: Indeed! Just where is your heart, sir?
CHERUBINO: I'm sorry, my lord! I know I don't deserve it, but please forgive me! (He drops his voice) And I promise I won't tell anyone about what you were saying to Sus
COUNT: O-of course! You're forgiven, all right? And actually, rather than just pardon you, I shall reward you with a position in my regiment, effective immediately! Now go!
FIGARO: So soon, my lord? Can't he at least stay until after the wedding?
COUNT: Out of the question! He must go at once we are at war, after all!
FIGARO: Oh, yes, the Great Penguin War I hear it's getting quite serious! And those penguins are nasty buggers they've got blunderbusses and everything! Quite impressive, when you think about it; I mean, one would assume they wouldn't manage too well without opposable thumbs, but they apparently do!
SUSANNA: (embracing Cherubino) Oh, poor boy . . .
Figaro takes Cherubino aside.
FIGARO: (whispering to Cherubino) I'd like a word with you in private before you leave I've got plans for you, kid! (aloud) Goodbye then, little officer! Life is surprising, eh? Let me tell you a thing or two about life in the army!
SUSANNA: . . . and what exactly do you know about that?
FIGARO: All day, every day, you're slogging it out there in the elements, no matter what the weather is like! And the food is always terrible, and you never get paid enough! And that's just when you're training!
SUSANNA: Now, now, don't scare the poor boy!
FIGARO: But when you finally get to see some real action . . . oh! It's truly glorious! You're going to be brilliant, Cherubino! I can just see you now: storming into the enemy's stronghold and whilst they're asking, "Who are you?! What are you doing here?!" you'll say something witty like, "I'm in your base killing your dudes!" and then you'll flip on a pair of sunglasses as some nutter behind you screams "YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHH!" trust me, you're going to have the time of your life! Well, at least until you get shot on the battlefield, which is very likely. And even if you do return home alive, you'll probably live out the rest of your days in crippling physical and emotional agony . . . but I digress you are going to love being in the army!
SUSANNA: Remind me to never let you talk to our future children about military service, Figaro . . .
CHERUBINO: . . . please kill me!
The curtain falls on the end of act one to thunderous applause.
NATURETHEZAFARA: Poor Cherubino . . . Figaro wasn't exactly being encouraging, was he?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: At least he didn't slice the poor kid's arm open with a knife, then smear his face with the blood, gag him and tie him up!
SUPERMIMBLES360: . . . I'm not even going to ask.