Tension was in the air when Melody entered the staff meeting. Carol and Capriccio rummaged through the papers before them. Each had a body position that slightly shifted away from the other. Staff meetings would be more productive if not for the time wasted in calming tempers.
“Let’s get started with our planning session.” Melody held up the presentation of Capriccio. “Let’s start here. Capriccio, I like your ideas. Some are a little cutting edge, but I like the way you think outside the box.”
“Cutting edge?” Carol held up a fist of papers and waved them at the ceiling. “Have you actually looked at this? These aren’t outside the box. This piece is outside reality.”
“You know what your problem is?” Capriccio poked a digit in the direction of Carol. “You are spinning on the turntable of the past. Nothing but classics. Nothing but symphony.” He crinkled a sheet under her nose. “Let the music flow from the heart. Score some points for creativity. Have a little freedom.”
“You couldn’t strike a chord with a hammer,” she retorted.
Melody jumped to her feet and said, “Give it a rest!” She pointed at Carol, then rotated her aim to Capriccio.
“This is ridiculous.” Carol’s voice became pitched as she glared at Capriccio and said, “You are nothing but a treble maker!” She turned her gaze to Melody. “You always take his side.”
Melody didn’t like her tone. “Oh falsetto. I used most of your ideas for Christmas. I think our next score should include something with a little jazz.”
Capriccio shot a smirk of glee at Carol. She gave a sharp look back. Then she spoke, “I’ll bet you get your ideas by breaking glass, tossing forks on concrete, and beating on garbage can lids. Don’t you?”
“I plead the fifth.” His quip fell flat, so Capriccio tried again. “Hey, I’m just a natural, but pardon my accent. On another note-”
Carol cut him off. “Do I have to sit here and listen to this half-wit?”
“I believe the word you are looking for is whole note.” He held up a hand to halt her and droned on about his piece for a time.
“Well, his canon is loaded,” she turned to Melody. “I can’t take any more of his exposition.”
Melody stared at the ceiling. These two always clash. She could hear their bantering, but it was just noise reverberating in her ears. These meetings always seemed to hit a sour note. Melody leveled her gaze and said, “It’s time for you two to scale it down.”
Once the realization dawned that this was a major impasse, the session reached an interlude, and both Carol and Capriccio were tasked to recompose each other’s compositions, harmonize their tunes, and refrain from further discord.
And that was finale.
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