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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Art / Music / Theater / Dance
- Published: 02/20/2016
Cisne Schwartz had prepared her whole life for this week. The month had been a great success and tonight was the final night of the tour of her production. Royalty and international stars would be here to adore her presentation and lift her name to the skies. The ‘Corps de Ballet’ had arrived a week ahead of her, as she attended to other business for the Ballet Company. She had left the dancers in charge of Solange Reisinger, her most trusted and experienced choreographer.
Solange had been with the Ballet Company even before Cisne joined, and it is true that Solange had applied for the exalted position of Balletmaster that Cisne eventually got. Sadly Solange had been bypassed in several applications for senior ballet positions because the old rumors kept coming back about her bingeing. Not alcohol, nor drugs, but sugar had been Solange’s downfall. To combat her weakness, Solange had become a professed bulemic – just right to lead a ‘Corps de Ballet’. Solange had invested much time into finding the right diet for her ballet dancers, so that she had developed a set of menus that were largely vegetarian. They were all very high quality vegetarian of the best flavors and demonstrated after-effects. The dancers felt well and showed their pleasure by one stunning performance after another. Cisne, Solange, and the well-nourished dancers emanated glory, and their reputation for well-being and dancing supremacy soared.
Cisne had telephoned Solange several times during the week and was assured that everything was progressing just fine. Cisne felt so relieved by the assurances of wellness that she decided to arrive at the last moment for her great night.
The ‘trouble’, or at least the change in rituals, had begun just as they packed up from their last weekly venue before the trip to the final event of the tour. Several of the dancers had commented about the unusual vegan cooking at the hotel. The special menu required by the Ballet Company had been discussed well in advance. However, just before the Company arrived the hotel reported that the agreed vegan-specialist had been hospitalized with stomach cramps at the last minute, and the hotel had had to find a substitute. The replacement chef was easily found by the ‘Office for Hotel Substitutes’. However, the ‘Office’ did not inform Solange that the newly appointed ‘vegan-specialist’ had recently been dismissed by a local fast-food chain for forcing meat eaters to consume red-colored vegetable substitutes for wholesome read meat. The vegan hopefuls were optimistic that ‘imaginative healthy food’ would be provided for the ballet company. In fact the menu had been imaginative -- so imaginative in fact that the items printed into the menu sheets could hardly be identified with the items served on the dining plates. In short, the identifiable vegetables were smothered in fruity syrups and the red items promised under the titles of red cabbage delight, beetroot mash, red chicory burger, red apple fritters, red potato pancakes, red pea pie – all looked suspiciously like meat dishes.
Solange listened to the conversations among the not-sleeping dancers in the overnight company bus ride to the final destination of the tour.
“What were those unhealthy vegetables on our plates the last week?”
“I don’t really know, they looked like nothing I had eaten before but they sure tasted good. It was a totally new experience!”
“It tasted like food I knew as a child when grandmother added sugar to everything she cooked. My own mother always cooked vegetables in an ocean of salt and it tasted like vomit. My grandmother cooked everything in sugar and it tasted like heaven. In fact grandmother said if we ever wanted to know what heaven was like we should just fall asleep and dream -- right after eating her food. Needless to say that we always came home looking like balloons after a week at grandma’s!”
“What about yesterday’s red-colored dishes? What were they?”
“ Before I became a ballet dancer, I used to be a street dancer, and we had to eat whatever there was available. Some of those red dishes we just had last week tasted to me like meat burgers.”
“You mean ‘meat’ as in animals, killed dead animals, that the vulgar people eat?”
“For many of those in our audiences, cooked dead animal is a sign of great wealth and luxury. Just as for us, cooked dead vegetable is a sign of health and virtue!”
“Well I must say that some of the dishes looked strange but actually tasted quite well. I even had a conversation with the chef about her menus that she served us.”
“Wow that was brave with Solange listening all the time!”
“I think Solange is asleep right now so you can tell us about your conversations with the chef.”
“Well last week’s chef sort of confessed that her promised vegan menu had to be modified a little to supply the protein demanded in the Ballet Company’s contract with the hotel. So she tried all the usual additives that we are used to – nuts, fungi, quorn – and in the end decided that ‘quiet’ addition of some meat would do each of us some good – at least as far as the protein supply was concerned.”
“Wow, no wonder we all had plenty of energy!”
“Energy we had, and we did not put on too much extra weight because the chef carefully balanced out calories-in with joules-out.”
“Yes that is quite an art the balance of good with bad, in food as in ballet life!”
“What are we going to do this next week in our new venue? More boring nothing-food dressed up under the noble names of vegan and vegetarian? Can’t we get last week’s chef to join us in our next city?”
“Unfortunately not, the fast food chain that sacked her got wind of the new brand of cooking, and called her back to set up a new franchise with her in charge. They will call the franchise ‘BMVF - Best meaty vegetarian food’!”
“How are we going to manage with eating this next week? -- after being tempted by ‘red vegetable dishes’ last week and sugary additions to the whole standard repertoire.”
“Diabla did give me a list of restaurants and take-aways in our next city which supply something like her sort of cooking.”
“And who is Diabla?
“The chef of last week, the one from BMVF!”
“Well the next thing is to arrange all of this, with or without the help of Solange.”
The whole company had been sleeping deeply when the ballet bus arrived at the final hotel.
Breakfast the next morning was as in previous hotels. The solo dancers were together in one luxury dining room and the ‘Corps de Ballet’ together in a canteen. Apparently the soloists were given selected delicacies most suitable for their profession, whereas the ‘Corps’ was served food worse than that given to prisoners. Solange knew that trouble was brewing when two of the ‘Corps’ cornered her before rehearsal.
“How can you and Cisne expect us to perform after a week of prisoner’s gruel?” groaned Male # 7 of the ‘Corps’.
“We will hardly make it into the second Act on this sustenance!” sighed Female #6 of the ‘Corps’.
As they were joined by more members of the ‘Corps’ Solange suggested, “ I will look into it, I will discuss the menus with the hotel chef!”
“Perhaps we can help?” interrupted Female #3 of the ‘Corps’. “ We got a list of restaurants and take-aways from the cool chef Diabla at the last place, and she said if we mention her name and that of ‘BMVF’ -- we will get exactly what we want!”
“Well I don’t know…….” tried Solange.
“We can try the first on the list for lunch,” suggested Female #3 of the ‘Corps’.
The group that went to ‘THE ORIGINAL BMVF’-- the first eatery on the special food list, was more than content with their lunch. Even Solange asked for seconds on desert. This group told the others in the ‘Corps’ at rehearsal about their adventure, and several groups were set up to try out some of the other venues. Solange said that because she had a lot to do for behind the scenes preparation for the upcoming gala night, she would not go with them to eat that evening -- but would order in from one of the listed takeaways.
The afternoon rehearsal was fine if not a little slow in the ‘Corps’ after their unusually big lunch. Solange almost dozed off standing up as she monitored the dancers in their routines. The groups dispersed in the evening to one or another of the listed restaurants, while Solange ordered from ‘VEGETARIAN SEDUCTION’ -- a new takeaway, their suggested menu. While Solange was between her checklists for scenery and costumes, the knock on her hotel room door announced the arrival of several packages. There were certainly twice as many boxes than she had ordered, but the deliverer just gave her a wink and a note that said ‘Compliments from Diabla’. Solange did not get any further with her checklists, she was trapped in the dinner. One box after another yielded up heavenly delights, tastes from another world, smells from another planet, and a satisfaction like nothing in the universe.
Solange had pigged out and was hung again on sweetness, her bulemia was forgotten and the pains of her sugar addiction waking up dormant centers in her activated brain. She passed out among the takeaway boxes and did not wake until late the next morning. A knocking at her door awoke Solange and a voice cried- “ are you OK Solange? We are all waiting for you at rehearsal!”
The ‘Corps de Ballet’ were a bit surprised at the groggy and heavy Solange who slothed into the rehearsal room, an hour later than normal. She seemed distracted, unable to move herself in the demonstrations, getting two of the ‘Corps’ to undertake any corrections that needed to be made among the steps of the others. They split up at lunchtime with Solange going up to her room. We, as spectators, dare not watch Solange lunching but we can imagine it was a great event – she staggered down to the afternoon rehearsal looking as if she had just survived an amorous night.
The dancers too were having some difficulties with several of the routines from the traditional score for their ballet piece. Not so much the principal dancers but more the ‘Corps de Ballet’ girls were thumping onto the stage when they crash-landed from aerial carriage by the male counterparts.
The week went on, the ‘Corps’ was happy and heavy. They could manage all the routines still -- but the stamping onto the stage floor could not be drowned by the orchestral percussion. The week was passing fast and the great day before the great night had arrived.
The tickets were sold out. The press was invited to an aperitif with several dignitaries of the ballet world and several persons whose photos habituated the society magazines. Still no sign of Cisne and Solange as the cameras clicked, and the voice recorders whirred, and the commentators commented into their corners.
Then just ten minutes before curtain, Cisne arrived in the vestibule from one side while the invited Royalty arrived from the other. No time for interviews with the cameras flashing to feed the newspapers and television breakfast shows. So Cisne had no time to check out the status of her ballet before being ushered into the Royal Box with the Royals. No chance of a quick word with Solange about developments in her ballet.
A slight change in sequence had apparently been decided by Solange as some special pieces by the principal dancers were presented first. Not acceptable for any ballet critic who expected every step to be followed as written down as in the original ballet script. But certainly acceptable for the audience, who whooped, whistled and applauded like torrential rain at each opportunity. Even Cisne was relieved by the perfect performances of the principal dancers despite the unexplained change in sequence. Then came the earthquake!
There were loud thumpings on the delicate springy spongy wood of the stage which sounded like an imminent invasion by elephants. Slowly thundering across the stage was a chain of eight female dancers, followed by another chain of eight. They were dressed in full-bodied grey costumes instead of the traditional white -- and looked nothing like cygnets. They were soon joined by their male counterparts, equally heavy, equally grey -- and nothing like any original score. It was hard to imagine that beneath the heavy movements and thudding on the stage, the traditionally light-weight dancers were inside the grey costumes. A masterpiece of choreography to transform delicacy so much!
The whole stage shook and in the orchestra pit an enlarged percussion section started African-style drumming far from the original Russian score. The reaction from the audience was immediate.
“Shame!” shouted out a ballet critics voice, “A catastrophe!”
“Pyotr Ilyich and Julius Reisinger will be turning in their graves after what you have done,” continued Sergei Pasdedeux -- the principal ballet critic of ‘Ballet World’, THE magazine of the business. Sergei fainted ostentatiously, as did two other of his supporters.
“Not so, it’s a great idea!” - countered a younger more passionate cry. The audience seemed to prefer this new version of the classical ballet -- and thundered more and more applause. And so it continued, more outrage from the traditional critics, more exhilaration from the stampeding audience. The thumping of the dancers onstage was complimented continuously by the stamping of the audience from the parterre to the gods. The critics continued their faint or at least ostentatiously appeared to do so.
The curtain calls were many and eventually Cisne appeared on stage. Contrary to protocol, Cisne indicated that she wanted to make an announcement.
“Your Royal Highnesses, venerable members of the ballet world, ladies and gentlemen, please forgive but I would like to make an announcement. Although I am the Balletmaster, I am not the author of this remarkable performance. For this we must thank Solange Reisinger, the descendent of the original Master – for she is the master of this piece. Please give all of your admiration to Solange Reisinger!” The audience stamped again and the Royals waved their approval. Solange came onto the stage wearing a loose flowing robe and not the Black Swan costume that Cisne was expecting. Cisne noted that Solange seemed twice as large as usual. Everyone was delighted except for the three ballet critics who still continued in their faint, magically each with one eye open. Cisne hugged the whole company one after the other, not just Seigfried and Odelle, but even the smallest elephant.
The next morning all of the television breakfast shows and all newspapers and magazines (except one) were enraptured by the performance. Typical headlines included ‘Elephant Lake without the Black Swan’, ‘Swan Lake usurped by charming elephants’ ‘Cisne Schwartz is not the Black Swan’, ‘New diet suspected for ballet dancers’, ’Solange’s secret recipe for success’, ‘From cygnet to elephant - tales from the ‘Corps de Ballet’.
If you are interested to find out what happened to Diabla and BMVF, you just need to find the happiest ‘Corps de Ballet’.
Elephant Lake(Alan Bruce)
Cisne Schwartz had prepared her whole life for this week. The month had been a great success and tonight was the final night of the tour of her production. Royalty and international stars would be here to adore her presentation and lift her name to the skies. The ‘Corps de Ballet’ had arrived a week ahead of her, as she attended to other business for the Ballet Company. She had left the dancers in charge of Solange Reisinger, her most trusted and experienced choreographer.
Solange had been with the Ballet Company even before Cisne joined, and it is true that Solange had applied for the exalted position of Balletmaster that Cisne eventually got. Sadly Solange had been bypassed in several applications for senior ballet positions because the old rumors kept coming back about her bingeing. Not alcohol, nor drugs, but sugar had been Solange’s downfall. To combat her weakness, Solange had become a professed bulemic – just right to lead a ‘Corps de Ballet’. Solange had invested much time into finding the right diet for her ballet dancers, so that she had developed a set of menus that were largely vegetarian. They were all very high quality vegetarian of the best flavors and demonstrated after-effects. The dancers felt well and showed their pleasure by one stunning performance after another. Cisne, Solange, and the well-nourished dancers emanated glory, and their reputation for well-being and dancing supremacy soared.
Cisne had telephoned Solange several times during the week and was assured that everything was progressing just fine. Cisne felt so relieved by the assurances of wellness that she decided to arrive at the last moment for her great night.
The ‘trouble’, or at least the change in rituals, had begun just as they packed up from their last weekly venue before the trip to the final event of the tour. Several of the dancers had commented about the unusual vegan cooking at the hotel. The special menu required by the Ballet Company had been discussed well in advance. However, just before the Company arrived the hotel reported that the agreed vegan-specialist had been hospitalized with stomach cramps at the last minute, and the hotel had had to find a substitute. The replacement chef was easily found by the ‘Office for Hotel Substitutes’. However, the ‘Office’ did not inform Solange that the newly appointed ‘vegan-specialist’ had recently been dismissed by a local fast-food chain for forcing meat eaters to consume red-colored vegetable substitutes for wholesome read meat. The vegan hopefuls were optimistic that ‘imaginative healthy food’ would be provided for the ballet company. In fact the menu had been imaginative -- so imaginative in fact that the items printed into the menu sheets could hardly be identified with the items served on the dining plates. In short, the identifiable vegetables were smothered in fruity syrups and the red items promised under the titles of red cabbage delight, beetroot mash, red chicory burger, red apple fritters, red potato pancakes, red pea pie – all looked suspiciously like meat dishes.
Solange listened to the conversations among the not-sleeping dancers in the overnight company bus ride to the final destination of the tour.
“What were those unhealthy vegetables on our plates the last week?”
“I don’t really know, they looked like nothing I had eaten before but they sure tasted good. It was a totally new experience!”
“It tasted like food I knew as a child when grandmother added sugar to everything she cooked. My own mother always cooked vegetables in an ocean of salt and it tasted like vomit. My grandmother cooked everything in sugar and it tasted like heaven. In fact grandmother said if we ever wanted to know what heaven was like we should just fall asleep and dream -- right after eating her food. Needless to say that we always came home looking like balloons after a week at grandma’s!”
“What about yesterday’s red-colored dishes? What were they?”
“ Before I became a ballet dancer, I used to be a street dancer, and we had to eat whatever there was available. Some of those red dishes we just had last week tasted to me like meat burgers.”
“You mean ‘meat’ as in animals, killed dead animals, that the vulgar people eat?”
“For many of those in our audiences, cooked dead animal is a sign of great wealth and luxury. Just as for us, cooked dead vegetable is a sign of health and virtue!”
“Well I must say that some of the dishes looked strange but actually tasted quite well. I even had a conversation with the chef about her menus that she served us.”
“Wow that was brave with Solange listening all the time!”
“I think Solange is asleep right now so you can tell us about your conversations with the chef.”
“Well last week’s chef sort of confessed that her promised vegan menu had to be modified a little to supply the protein demanded in the Ballet Company’s contract with the hotel. So she tried all the usual additives that we are used to – nuts, fungi, quorn – and in the end decided that ‘quiet’ addition of some meat would do each of us some good – at least as far as the protein supply was concerned.”
“Wow, no wonder we all had plenty of energy!”
“Energy we had, and we did not put on too much extra weight because the chef carefully balanced out calories-in with joules-out.”
“Yes that is quite an art the balance of good with bad, in food as in ballet life!”
“What are we going to do this next week in our new venue? More boring nothing-food dressed up under the noble names of vegan and vegetarian? Can’t we get last week’s chef to join us in our next city?”
“Unfortunately not, the fast food chain that sacked her got wind of the new brand of cooking, and called her back to set up a new franchise with her in charge. They will call the franchise ‘BMVF - Best meaty vegetarian food’!”
“How are we going to manage with eating this next week? -- after being tempted by ‘red vegetable dishes’ last week and sugary additions to the whole standard repertoire.”
“Diabla did give me a list of restaurants and take-aways in our next city which supply something like her sort of cooking.”
“And who is Diabla?
“The chef of last week, the one from BMVF!”
“Well the next thing is to arrange all of this, with or without the help of Solange.”
The whole company had been sleeping deeply when the ballet bus arrived at the final hotel.
Breakfast the next morning was as in previous hotels. The solo dancers were together in one luxury dining room and the ‘Corps de Ballet’ together in a canteen. Apparently the soloists were given selected delicacies most suitable for their profession, whereas the ‘Corps’ was served food worse than that given to prisoners. Solange knew that trouble was brewing when two of the ‘Corps’ cornered her before rehearsal.
“How can you and Cisne expect us to perform after a week of prisoner’s gruel?” groaned Male # 7 of the ‘Corps’.
“We will hardly make it into the second Act on this sustenance!” sighed Female #6 of the ‘Corps’.
As they were joined by more members of the ‘Corps’ Solange suggested, “ I will look into it, I will discuss the menus with the hotel chef!”
“Perhaps we can help?” interrupted Female #3 of the ‘Corps’. “ We got a list of restaurants and take-aways from the cool chef Diabla at the last place, and she said if we mention her name and that of ‘BMVF’ -- we will get exactly what we want!”
“Well I don’t know…….” tried Solange.
“We can try the first on the list for lunch,” suggested Female #3 of the ‘Corps’.
The group that went to ‘THE ORIGINAL BMVF’-- the first eatery on the special food list, was more than content with their lunch. Even Solange asked for seconds on desert. This group told the others in the ‘Corps’ at rehearsal about their adventure, and several groups were set up to try out some of the other venues. Solange said that because she had a lot to do for behind the scenes preparation for the upcoming gala night, she would not go with them to eat that evening -- but would order in from one of the listed takeaways.
The afternoon rehearsal was fine if not a little slow in the ‘Corps’ after their unusually big lunch. Solange almost dozed off standing up as she monitored the dancers in their routines. The groups dispersed in the evening to one or another of the listed restaurants, while Solange ordered from ‘VEGETARIAN SEDUCTION’ -- a new takeaway, their suggested menu. While Solange was between her checklists for scenery and costumes, the knock on her hotel room door announced the arrival of several packages. There were certainly twice as many boxes than she had ordered, but the deliverer just gave her a wink and a note that said ‘Compliments from Diabla’. Solange did not get any further with her checklists, she was trapped in the dinner. One box after another yielded up heavenly delights, tastes from another world, smells from another planet, and a satisfaction like nothing in the universe.
Solange had pigged out and was hung again on sweetness, her bulemia was forgotten and the pains of her sugar addiction waking up dormant centers in her activated brain. She passed out among the takeaway boxes and did not wake until late the next morning. A knocking at her door awoke Solange and a voice cried- “ are you OK Solange? We are all waiting for you at rehearsal!”
The ‘Corps de Ballet’ were a bit surprised at the groggy and heavy Solange who slothed into the rehearsal room, an hour later than normal. She seemed distracted, unable to move herself in the demonstrations, getting two of the ‘Corps’ to undertake any corrections that needed to be made among the steps of the others. They split up at lunchtime with Solange going up to her room. We, as spectators, dare not watch Solange lunching but we can imagine it was a great event – she staggered down to the afternoon rehearsal looking as if she had just survived an amorous night.
The dancers too were having some difficulties with several of the routines from the traditional score for their ballet piece. Not so much the principal dancers but more the ‘Corps de Ballet’ girls were thumping onto the stage when they crash-landed from aerial carriage by the male counterparts.
The week went on, the ‘Corps’ was happy and heavy. They could manage all the routines still -- but the stamping onto the stage floor could not be drowned by the orchestral percussion. The week was passing fast and the great day before the great night had arrived.
The tickets were sold out. The press was invited to an aperitif with several dignitaries of the ballet world and several persons whose photos habituated the society magazines. Still no sign of Cisne and Solange as the cameras clicked, and the voice recorders whirred, and the commentators commented into their corners.
Then just ten minutes before curtain, Cisne arrived in the vestibule from one side while the invited Royalty arrived from the other. No time for interviews with the cameras flashing to feed the newspapers and television breakfast shows. So Cisne had no time to check out the status of her ballet before being ushered into the Royal Box with the Royals. No chance of a quick word with Solange about developments in her ballet.
A slight change in sequence had apparently been decided by Solange as some special pieces by the principal dancers were presented first. Not acceptable for any ballet critic who expected every step to be followed as written down as in the original ballet script. But certainly acceptable for the audience, who whooped, whistled and applauded like torrential rain at each opportunity. Even Cisne was relieved by the perfect performances of the principal dancers despite the unexplained change in sequence. Then came the earthquake!
There were loud thumpings on the delicate springy spongy wood of the stage which sounded like an imminent invasion by elephants. Slowly thundering across the stage was a chain of eight female dancers, followed by another chain of eight. They were dressed in full-bodied grey costumes instead of the traditional white -- and looked nothing like cygnets. They were soon joined by their male counterparts, equally heavy, equally grey -- and nothing like any original score. It was hard to imagine that beneath the heavy movements and thudding on the stage, the traditionally light-weight dancers were inside the grey costumes. A masterpiece of choreography to transform delicacy so much!
The whole stage shook and in the orchestra pit an enlarged percussion section started African-style drumming far from the original Russian score. The reaction from the audience was immediate.
“Shame!” shouted out a ballet critics voice, “A catastrophe!”
“Pyotr Ilyich and Julius Reisinger will be turning in their graves after what you have done,” continued Sergei Pasdedeux -- the principal ballet critic of ‘Ballet World’, THE magazine of the business. Sergei fainted ostentatiously, as did two other of his supporters.
“Not so, it’s a great idea!” - countered a younger more passionate cry. The audience seemed to prefer this new version of the classical ballet -- and thundered more and more applause. And so it continued, more outrage from the traditional critics, more exhilaration from the stampeding audience. The thumping of the dancers onstage was complimented continuously by the stamping of the audience from the parterre to the gods. The critics continued their faint or at least ostentatiously appeared to do so.
The curtain calls were many and eventually Cisne appeared on stage. Contrary to protocol, Cisne indicated that she wanted to make an announcement.
“Your Royal Highnesses, venerable members of the ballet world, ladies and gentlemen, please forgive but I would like to make an announcement. Although I am the Balletmaster, I am not the author of this remarkable performance. For this we must thank Solange Reisinger, the descendent of the original Master – for she is the master of this piece. Please give all of your admiration to Solange Reisinger!” The audience stamped again and the Royals waved their approval. Solange came onto the stage wearing a loose flowing robe and not the Black Swan costume that Cisne was expecting. Cisne noted that Solange seemed twice as large as usual. Everyone was delighted except for the three ballet critics who still continued in their faint, magically each with one eye open. Cisne hugged the whole company one after the other, not just Seigfried and Odelle, but even the smallest elephant.
The next morning all of the television breakfast shows and all newspapers and magazines (except one) were enraptured by the performance. Typical headlines included ‘Elephant Lake without the Black Swan’, ‘Swan Lake usurped by charming elephants’ ‘Cisne Schwartz is not the Black Swan’, ‘New diet suspected for ballet dancers’, ’Solange’s secret recipe for success’, ‘From cygnet to elephant - tales from the ‘Corps de Ballet’.
If you are interested to find out what happened to Diabla and BMVF, you just need to find the happiest ‘Corps de Ballet’.
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