This is originally my Music Appreciation paper, where we had to listen to listen to music and write whatever popped into our heads. I just really liked it so when I typed it up for MA, I decided to use it ....here. ^^;
Anyways, this isn't all of my paper. I changed tact in the middle of it, so it went into something completely different. I may or may not use that one later (Most likely, though, I will :D ).
The music that was used for this was Symphony No. 5 by Tchaikovsky.
***
"Well, at least it's not Queen."
"…"
"…"
"Oh, you're serious. Well then: Are you flipping kidding me?"
"No, I can assure you I'm not."
"Go—Sa—ADAM, I hate symphonies. They're so bloody boring, and loud, and it's like the conductor keeps twitching his hands or something, they can't just have one tempo and stick with it."
"Well, I think it sounds lovel—AAH!"
"See? Too bloody loud!"
"What?!"
"I said it's too loud!"
"I can't hear you; the music's too loud!"
"Ow, ANGEL! Those used to be my eardrums!"
"Ah. Well, at least the music's gotten softer."
"Yeah…"
"It reminds me of snow."
"….Now don't you go and get all sentimental on me."
"What? Why can't I?"
"Because."
"Because why?
"Because six millennia of sentimentality tends to be prolonged and tortuous."
"Well, at least—Crowley, is that your houseplant?"
"Why, yes. Yes it is."
"Is it trying to eat your couch?"
"…Er."
"Thought so. Hand me that lamp, would you?"
"Here. Now why—OH MY GOD!!"
"Yes?
"No, not you. It was just an expression."
"Aw, sad face."
"…"
"…"
"….Hastur's at your door."
"Wha?"
"YOU! I've come for my revenge!"
"…"
"Now—ow! Who threw that lamp?!"
"Oh, he did."
"Who's—dear Manchester, your plant's eating my leg!"
"Huh, so it is. So, 'Zira, want to join me at the Ritz?"
"Sounds lovely."
"Wait! The two of you can't just leave me here!"
"Watch us."
"…"
"Today actually seems like a very silly day, doesn't it?
"Actually, yes. Yes it is."
"…"
"…Is that the president?"
"Of the United States?"
"Yes, that one."
"In England?"
"Yes."
"…"
"…"
"I blame the symphony."
"Crowley, you can't blame a piece of music for anything."
"Shush!"
"You have to face facts! It's—"
"No, be quiet! Something is lurking!"
"And you know this because…?"
"Because I'm a demon and demons specialize in lurking."
"So I assume that you are the expert on lurking?"
"That was a backhanded comment."
"Yes. The Ritz now?"
"Gladly."
***
END.
