Bill_Vin_Afton_Sr

The “spookiest” month of the year.

What better time to give you something I have been working on?

Do not worry about its contents. It is completely drinkable.

— @themanbehindthepurpleman

…Sir, Pond Creatures have no visible mouths.

The best I can do is to absorb it by dunking it over my head.

Like so.

Now, if you don’t mieow

…Mrow?

That should keep you quiet for a while longer.

..About my son, of course.

This brew cannot prevent you from “talking”, catlike though it will be.

How in the world did—?

…Never mind, I’ve got a better question to ask.

Did you hear about anyone named Ralph? Some secondhand reports just came out about his time at Freddy Fazbear’s, so I was wondering if you had any ghostly inputs of your own.

I hardly had any encounters with this “Fazbear Entertainment. Both in life and after death.

The only time I spent there was one night in that hazy realm between the middle of the 1980s and the dawn of the 1990s. Someone thought it would be “nice” to take my fellow Nursery Home attendees out for a dinner and a show.

It was not nice, in fact.

The lights were obnoxious. The voices chosen for the automations were grating. Even these so-called “games” on display were mere dots in a sea of pitch blackness. The only saving grace was this long-haired “youngster” (for lack of a better term) who had to shut off the robots and draw the curtains. There was some talk about a malfunction from the wait staff, yet I paid no mind to their reasonings back then.

Perhaps I should have, given the timing of it all.

I will keep that in mind, then.

If that mere question did not make it obvious, we never truly met. It was just that brief moment that I have already described.

Ralph, on the other hand, is an absolute stranger to me. My best assumption is that his job— whatever it was—did not interfere with the wait staff.

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)

We shall begin with the oldest song first.

Or, at the very least, its opening section.

“A Wandering Minstrel, I” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

In its original key of F Major.

A wandering minstrel I—

A thing of shreds and patches,

Of ballads, songs and snatches,

And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,

Through every passion ranging,

And to your humours changing

I tune my supple song

I tune my supple song…

The next song is much more obscure.

Thankfully, the both of us know it quite well.

(*William straightens up. He attempts to refrain from adjusting his tie.*)

And I think, once you read and/or hear the lyrics, you will see why I picked it.

It is “Poor Little Me” by Benny Davis, circa 1922.

In the original key of E Flat Major.

Some changes have been made to streamline the song, while others are more… drastic.

I don't like to complain

But I think it's a shame

I don't know what the word love means

Ev'ry one I know

Has someone they love so

I've been forgotten it seems..

(*He leans more into the role, letting his voice ‘crack’ as the chorus swings in.*)

Poor little me!

Always lonesome and sad!

Poor little me— Always getting in bad!

No matter what I do or say,

Somehow I'm always in the way—

By thunder! I wonder

Will my luck change some day?

I've tried to be just as nice as I should

But I can see there's no fun being good!

I sit at home but no one calls

I'm tired of looking at the four bare walls

Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me?

(*He looks at his father with large “tearful” eyes. Bill simply glares. William, sensing much irritation, returns to his original singing stance. He goes into the second verse much more restrained.*)

Good luck passes me by

I keep wondering why—

Seems I just can't go on this way

I keep dreaming of

Somebody I could love!

I hope it comes true someday!

(*He then returns to leaning against the piano edge, this time placing the back of his hand against his face. He repeats the chorus [Which I will not type again because of time], but turns ‘snippy’ when the change in the second version comes:)

Nobody ever takes me out

They say I don't know what it's all about

So don't you feel sorry

For poor little me—?

(*Bill intensifies the lower parts of his piano playing. A twinge of fear enters William’s voice as he goes into the newly-penned “Chorus 3”:*)

Poor little me!

Always loathsome and sad! Poor little me—

Always getting in bad… No matter what you do or say, Somehow I’ll always ruin your day By thunder! No wonder My luck won’t change today!

I thought I’d be

Just as nice as I should

But I can see

That I’ll never be good!

Just keep me under lock and key

Or else I’ll be your source of agony— Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me!

Now that we have performed the songs I wanted, I suppose it is time for requests.

I believe there was someone who stopped by to drop off a letter?

Yes, sir. I spotted an envelope while you were playing an interlude.

Then I will play that request first.

Other requests will follow shortly.

Ah, Will.

Good to see you again.

You missed the first two— Well, three by now— songs.

But, can you do 'ive got a little list?' "

William, do you know this number?

I know we both made an effort to study The Mikado, but ah…

(*William’s eyes widen at the paper on the floor. However, he regains his composure rather quickly.*)

I think I can manage.

What key is it in?

(*Bill peers over Will’s shoulder.*)

E Flat Major, I believe.

And which version?

(*Bill skims again, but stops.*)

There are more versions?

To keep with the times and satire of the era, yes.

(Bill looks at Will with an unnaturally concerned look.)

He's searching now.

This I have to see.

There is a child here, Will.

That is true, but now I think my creative spark has flourished a little. Surely we can reach a compromise? Have me merge the two like some Frankensteinian creation? Live productions do change the lyrics on-the-fly, if I recall.

(*Bill sighs in disappointment.*)

There’s someone behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint.. with no regard for proper rules?

Thank you, sir. I try my best whenever the opportunity presents itself—

(Bill snatches the list from Will and closes it. He glares pointedly at William.)

Your best must be ours, then.

I will not stand for wasting any more time.

Sing the original and tweak when needed.

(William follows behind Bill while stammering something intelligible. Bill calmly sits back down at the piano bench.)

If you are so good at improvisation, then you must prove yourself worthy.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might (as) well be underground

And who never would be missed —

Who never would be missed!

(A slight pause, as to be expected. However, William manages to stay on time— Which, ironically, makes Bill a bit late.)

There's the pestilential nuisances who beg for photographs—

All people who have flabby hands

and irritating laughs —

(As he keeps going, he pulls out a pair of opera gloves from his jacket pocket and slips them on. Considering the lack of an extra-rosy face, this was probably a planned “sight gag”— as one might say.)

All people who are explain the jokes that makes ‘em all fall flat —

All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —

(He promptly shakes Bill’s hand very harshly. Bill winces afterwards, but recovers quickly.)

And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —

“They’d none of them be missed!

They’d none of them be missed!”

There’s the one behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists— “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint While disregarding proper rules

They never would be missed!

They never would be missed!

(Bill nearly does the chorus part again, but William bulldozes right past it— As there is no chorus until the end, this is a possibly smart decision.)

Then the saddest fool who praises, with enthusiastic tone

All livelihoods but his and every person but his own

And while we’re on the subject, even I may get a whack

For ending my old title with a sorry “fade-to-black”—

Plus that singular anomaly—

My witness tamper-ist

I don’t think they’ll be missed

I’m sure he won’t be missed

(Bill ignores William’s own pointed glares during the “witness-tamper-ist” and “he won’t be missed”. On goes the chorus section again, just as planned.)

And that Nisi Prius nuisance,

who just now is rather rife The judicial “humorist” —

I've got him on the list

All funny fellows, comic men,

and clowns of private life —

They'd none of 'em be missed —

they'd none of 'em be missed And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as… What d'ya call him? Thing'em-bob, and likewise— Never-mind! And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —

(Another pointed glare at his father, though calling him a “statesman” would be far-fetched. But before the glare is returned, William moves on.)

The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

It appears that we have been delaying many a request.

If you have any suggestions, Elizabeth, then you will have to wait a little longer.

We are finally ready for your request.

Can we, Father? Please, oh, please, can we?

(Bill looks at Elizabeth and William. He contemplates.)

I am more dumbfounded that you are also begging for this, William.

I thought you would be dreading that song after rewinding that V-H-S one too many times.

(William, despite his situation, is offended.)

I? Dreading Under The Sea? What non—!

(He catches himself.)

What I mean to say is, I do not mind that song. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while back then. But that is the thing— That tiredness was practically decades ago.

So, please, let me sing this song for her. It is the least I can do.

(Bill huffs defeatedly.)

Very well.

The seaweed is always greener

In somebody else's lake

You dream about going up there

But that is a big mistake

Just look at the world around you

Right here on the ocean floor

Such wonderful things surround you

What more are you looking for?

Under the sea, under the sea

Darlin' it's better down where it's wetter—

Take it from me!

Up on the shore, they work all day

Out in the sun, they slave away

While we devotin' full time to floatin'

Under the sea—

It’s just a bit of a headache, dear. I’ve… gotten through much worse.

(Bill, though fully aware of the warning he received a moment ago, nods in agreement. He resumes his playing as William resumes the song.)

Down here all the fish are happy As off through the waves they roll The fish on the land ain't happy They’ sad cause they’ in their bowl But fish in the bowl is lucky They in for a worse-er fate One day when the boss gets hungry Guess who's gon' be on the plate? Uh-oh!

(As if to tempt fate itself, a few of the candle-lit fixtures go out on cue. The more modern objects simply flicker as William keeps going.)

Under the sea, under the sea

Nobody beats us—

Fry us and eat us in fricassee

We’ what the land folks loves to cook

Under the sea, we’ off the hook

We got no troubles, life is the bubbles!

(Bill “chimes” in by adding in the ensemble to his piano playing. He seems unfazed by the chill in the air, while his son’s eyes are starting to have a manic tinge to them.)

He will be “okay” soon enough.

I will explain once your song is over.

(William, on the other hand, decides to include Elizabeth in the routine. They do a little dance as he sings the faster-paced bridge section. His pupils do look a bit strange, but his happyexpression seems a lot more geniune.)

The newt play the flute

The carp play the harp

The plaice play the bass

And they soundin' sharp

The bass play the brass

The chub play the tub

The fluke is the duke of soul

The ray he can play

The lings on the strings

The trout rockin' out

The blackfish she sings

The smelt and the sprat,

they know where it's at

An' oh that blowfish blow!

—Under the sea!

Under the sea

When the sardine begin the beguine,

It's music to me

What do they got? A lot of sand? We’ce got a hot crustacean band! Each little clam here know how to jam here Under the sea Each little slug here, cuttin' a rug here Under the sea

(He sets Elizabeth down, then lets his father start up the finale. With his final burst of energy, William clambers onto the top of the piano.)

Each little snail here

Knows how to wail here

That's why it's hotter

Under the water

Yeah. we’re in luck here

Down in the muck here

Under the sea~!

(Bill glares at William, then finishes the song. After the last note, however, the lights go out. Bill simply sighs and says..)

It is time for you to leave, Elizabeth and company.

I was given short notice about this.. bizzare item called a “ball pit”.

Allegedly, it houses a creature destined to take my son away.

Deprive him of his ‘humanity’, even.

It has arrived already.

And I have already been advised to evacuate you.

It would be foolish of me if I did not.

(He then gets up from his seat and opens up the piano bench. A sharp click follows suit. The paintball gun has returned.)

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)

We shall begin with the oldest song first.

Or, at the very least, its opening section.

“A Wandering Minstrel, I” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

In its original key of F Major.

A wandering minstrel I—

A thing of shreds and patches,

Of ballads, songs and snatches,

And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,

Through every passion ranging,

And to your humours changing

I tune my supple song

I tune my supple song…

The next song is much more obscure.

Thankfully, the both of us know it quite well.

(*William straightens up. He attempts to refrain from adjusting his tie.*)

And I think, once you read and/or hear the lyrics, you will see why I picked it.

It is “Poor Little Me” by Benny Davis, circa 1922.

In the original key of E Flat Major.

Some changes have been made to streamline the song, while others are more… drastic.

I don't like to complain

But I think it's a shame

I don't know what the word love means

Ev'ry one I know

Has someone they love so

I've been forgotten it seems..

(*He leans more into the role, letting his voice ‘crack’ as the chorus swings in.*)

Poor little me!

Always lonesome and sad!

Poor little me— Always getting in bad!

No matter what I do or say,

Somehow I'm always in the way—

By thunder! I wonder

Will my luck change some day?

I've tried to be just as nice as I should

But I can see there's no fun being good!

I sit at home but no one calls

I'm tired of looking at the four bare walls

Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me?

(*He looks at his father with large “tearful” eyes. Bill simply glares. William, sensing much irritation, returns to his original singing stance. He goes into the second verse much more restrained.*)

Good luck passes me by

I keep wondering why—

Seems I just can't go on this way

I keep dreaming of

Somebody I could love!

I hope it comes true someday!

(*He then returns to leaning against the piano edge, this time placing the back of his hand against his face. He repeats the chorus [Which I will not type again because of time], but turns ‘snippy’ when the change in the second version comes:)

Nobody ever takes me out

They say I don't know what it's all about

So don't you feel sorry

For poor little me—?

(*Bill intensifies the lower parts of his piano playing. A twinge of fear enters William’s voice as he goes into the newly-penned “Chorus 3”:*)

Poor little me!

Always loathsome and sad! Poor little me—

Always getting in bad… No matter what you do or say, Somehow I’ll always ruin your day By thunder! No wonder My luck won’t change today!

I thought I’d be

Just as nice as I should

But I can see

That I’ll never be good!

Just keep me under lock and key

Or else I’ll be your source of agony— Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me!

Now that we have performed the songs I wanted, I suppose it is time for requests.

I believe there was someone who stopped by to drop off a letter?

Yes, sir. I spotted an envelope while you were playing an interlude.

Then I will play that request first.

Other requests will follow shortly.

Ah, Will.

Good to see you again.

You missed the first two— Well, three by now— songs.

But, can you do 'ive got a little list?' "

William, do you know this number?

I know we both made an effort to study The Mikado, but ah…

(*William’s eyes widen at the paper on the floor. However, he regains his composure rather quickly.*)

I think I can manage.

What key is it in?

(*Bill peers over Will’s shoulder.*)

E Flat Major, I believe.

And which version?

(*Bill skims again, but stops.*)

There are more versions?

To keep with the times and satire of the era, yes.

(Bill looks at Will with an unnaturally concerned look.)

He's searching now.

This I have to see.

There is a child here, Will.

That is true, but now I think my creative spark has flourished a little. Surely we can reach a compromise? Have me merge the two like some Frankensteinian creation? Live productions do change the lyrics on-the-fly, if I recall.

(*Bill sighs in disappointment.*)

There’s someone behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint.. with no regard for proper rules?

Thank you, sir. I try my best whenever the opportunity presents itself—

(Bill snatches the list from Will and closes it. He glares pointedly at William.)

Your best must be ours, then.

I will not stand for wasting any more time.

Sing the original and tweak when needed.

(William follows behind Bill while stammering something intelligible. Bill calmly sits back down at the piano bench.)

If you are so good at improvisation, then you must prove yourself worthy.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might (as) well be underground

And who never would be missed —

Who never would be missed!

(A slight pause, as to be expected. However, William manages to stay on time— Which, ironically, makes Bill a bit late.)

There's the pestilential nuisances who beg for photographs—

All people who have flabby hands

and irritating laughs —

(As he keeps going, he pulls out a pair of opera gloves from his jacket pocket and slips them on. Considering the lack of an extra-rosy face, this was probably a planned “sight gag”— as one might say.)

All people who are explain the jokes that makes ‘em all fall flat —

All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —

(He promptly shakes Bill’s hand very harshly. Bill winces afterwards, but recovers quickly.)

And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —

“They’d none of them be missed!

They’d none of them be missed!”

There’s the one behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists— “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint While disregarding proper rules

They never would be missed!

They never would be missed!

(Bill nearly does the chorus part again, but William bulldozes right past it— As there is no chorus until the end, this is a possibly smart decision.)

Then the saddest fool who praises, with enthusiastic tone

All livelihoods but his and every person but his own

And while we’re on the subject, even I may get a whack

For ending my old title with a sorry “fade-to-black”—

Plus that singular anomaly—

My witness tamper-ist

I don’t think they’ll be missed

I’m sure he won’t be missed

(Bill ignores William’s own pointed glares during the “witness-tamper-ist” and “he won’t be missed”. On goes the chorus section again, just as planned.)

And that Nisi Prius nuisance,

who just now is rather rife The judicial “humorist” —

I've got him on the list

All funny fellows, comic men,

and clowns of private life —

They'd none of 'em be missed —

they'd none of 'em be missed And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as… What d'ya call him? Thing'em-bob, and likewise— Never-mind! And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —

(Another pointed glare at his father, though calling him a “statesman” would be far-fetched. But before the glare is returned, William moves on.)

The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

It appears that we have been delaying many a request.

If you have any suggestions, Elizabeth, then you will have to wait a little longer.

We are finally ready for your request.

Can we, Father? Please, oh, please, can we?

(Bill looks at Elizabeth and William. He contemplates.)

I am more dumbfounded that you are also begging for this, William.

I thought you would be dreading that song after rewinding that V-H-S one too many times.

(William, despite his situation, is offended.)

I? Dreading Under The Sea? What non—!

(He catches himself.)

What I mean to say is, I do not mind that song. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while back then. But that is the thing— That tiredness was practically decades ago.

So, please, let me sing this song for her. It is the least I can do.

(Bill huffs defeatedly.)

Very well.

The seaweed is always greener

In somebody else's lake

You dream about going up there

But that is a big mistake

Just look at the world around you

Right here on the ocean floor

Such wonderful things surround you

What more are you looking for?

Under the sea, under the sea

Darlin' it's better down where it's wetter—

Take it from me!

Up on the shore, they work all day

Out in the sun, they slave away

While we devotin' full time to floatin'

Under the sea—

It’s just a bit of a headache, dear. I’ve… gotten through much worse.

(Bill, though fully aware of the warning he received a moment ago, nods in agreement. He resumes his playing as William resumes the song.)

Down here all the fish are happy As off through the waves they roll The fish on the land ain't happy They’ sad cause they’ in their bowl But fish in the bowl is lucky They in for a worse-er fate One day when the boss gets hungry Guess who's gon' be on the plate? Uh-oh!

(As if to tempt fate itself, a few of the candle-lit fixtures go out on cue. The more modern objects simply flicker as William keeps going.)

Under the sea, under the sea

Nobody beats us—

Fry us and eat us in fricassee

We’ what the land folks loves to cook

Under the sea, we’ off the hook

We got no troubles, life is the bubbles!

(Bill “chimes” in by adding in the ensemble to his piano playing. He seems unfazed by the chill in the air, while his son’s eyes are starting to have a manic tinge to them.)

He will be “okay” soon enough.

I will explain once your song is over.

(William, on the other hand, decides to include Elizabeth in the routine. They do a little dance as he sings the faster-paced bridge section. His pupils do look a bit strange, but his happyexpression seems a lot more geniune.)

The newt play the flute

The carp play the harp

The plaice play the bass

And they soundin' sharp

The bass play the brass

The chub play the tub

The fluke is the duke of soul

The ray he can play

The lings on the strings

The trout rockin' out

The blackfish she sings

The smelt and the sprat,

they know where it's at

An' oh that blowfish blow!

—Under the sea!

Under the sea

When the sardine begin the beguine,

It's music to me

What do they got? A lot of sand? We’ce got a hot crustacean band! Each little clam here know how to jam here Under the sea Each little slug here, cuttin' a rug here Under the sea

(He sets Elizabeth down, then lets his father start up the finale. With his final burst of energy, William clambers onto the top of the piano.)

Each little snail here

Knows how to wail here

That's why it's hotter

Under the water

Yeah. we’re in luck here

Down in the muck here

Under the sea~!

(Bill glares at William, then finishes the song. After the last note, however, the lights go out. Bill simply sighs and says..)

It is time for you to leave, Elizabeth and company.

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)

We shall begin with the oldest song first.

Or, at the very least, its opening section.

“A Wandering Minstrel, I” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

In its original key of F Major.

A wandering minstrel I—

A thing of shreds and patches,

Of ballads, songs and snatches,

And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,

Through every passion ranging,

And to your humours changing

I tune my supple song

I tune my supple song…

The next song is much more obscure.

Thankfully, the both of us know it quite well.

(*William straightens up. He attempts to refrain from adjusting his tie.*)

And I think, once you read and/or hear the lyrics, you will see why I picked it.

It is “Poor Little Me” by Benny Davis, circa 1922.

In the original key of E Flat Major.

Some changes have been made to streamline the song, while others are more… drastic.

I don't like to complain

But I think it's a shame

I don't know what the word love means

Ev'ry one I know

Has someone they love so

I've been forgotten it seems..

(*He leans more into the role, letting his voice ‘crack’ as the chorus swings in.*)

Poor little me!

Always lonesome and sad!

Poor little me— Always getting in bad!

No matter what I do or say,

Somehow I'm always in the way—

By thunder! I wonder

Will my luck change some day?

I've tried to be just as nice as I should

But I can see there's no fun being good!

I sit at home but no one calls

I'm tired of looking at the four bare walls

Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me?

(*He looks at his father with large “tearful” eyes. Bill simply glares. William, sensing much irritation, returns to his original singing stance. He goes into the second verse much more restrained.*)

Good luck passes me by

I keep wondering why—

Seems I just can't go on this way

I keep dreaming of

Somebody I could love!

I hope it comes true someday!

(*He then returns to leaning against the piano edge, this time placing the back of his hand against his face. He repeats the chorus [Which I will not type again because of time], but turns ‘snippy’ when the change in the second version comes:)

Nobody ever takes me out

They say I don't know what it's all about

So don't you feel sorry

For poor little me—?

(*Bill intensifies the lower parts of his piano playing. A twinge of fear enters William’s voice as he goes into the newly-penned “Chorus 3”:*)

Poor little me!

Always loathsome and sad! Poor little me—

Always getting in bad… No matter what you do or say, Somehow I’ll always ruin your day By thunder! No wonder My luck won’t change today!

I thought I’d be

Just as nice as I should

But I can see

That I’ll never be good!

Just keep me under lock and key

Or else I’ll be your source of agony— Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me!

Now that we have performed the songs I wanted, I suppose it is time for requests.

I believe there was someone who stopped by to drop off a letter?

Yes, sir. I spotted an envelope while you were playing an interlude.

Then I will play that request first.

Other requests will follow shortly.

Ah, Will.

Good to see you again.

You missed the first two— Well, three by now— songs.

But, can you do 'ive got a little list?' "

William, do you know this number?

I know we both made an effort to study The Mikado, but ah…

(*William’s eyes widen at the paper on the floor. However, he regains his composure rather quickly.*)

I think I can manage.

What key is it in?

(*Bill peers over Will’s shoulder.*)

E Flat Major, I believe.

And which version?

(*Bill skims again, but stops.*)

There are more versions?

To keep with the times and satire of the era, yes.

(Bill looks at Will with an unnaturally concerned look.)

He's searching now.

This I have to see.

There is a child here, Will.

That is true, but now I think my creative spark has flourished a little. Surely we can reach a compromise? Have me merge the two like some Frankensteinian creation? Live productions do change the lyrics on-the-fly, if I recall.

(*Bill sighs in disappointment.*)

There’s someone behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint.. with no regard for proper rules?

Thank you, sir. I try my best whenever the opportunity presents itself—

(Bill snatches the list from Will and closes it. He glares pointedly at William.)

Your best must be ours, then.

I will not stand for wasting any more time.

Sing the original and tweak when needed.

(William follows behind Bill while stammering something intelligible. Bill calmly sits back down at the piano bench.)

If you are so good at improvisation, then you must prove yourself worthy.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might (as) well be underground

And who never would be missed —

Who never would be missed!

(A slight pause, as to be expected. However, William manages to stay on time— Which, ironically, makes Bill a bit late.)

There's the pestilential nuisances who beg for photographs—

All people who have flabby hands

and irritating laughs —

(As he keeps going, he pulls out a pair of opera gloves from his jacket pocket and slips them on. Considering the lack of an extra-rosy face, this was probably a planned “sight gag”— as one might say.)

All people who are explain the jokes that makes ‘em all fall flat —

All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —

(He promptly shakes Bill’s hand very harshly. Bill winces afterwards, but recovers quickly.)

And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —

“They’d none of them be missed!

They’d none of them be missed!”

There’s the one behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists— “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint While disregarding proper rules

They never would be missed!

They never would be missed!

(Bill nearly does the chorus part again, but William bulldozes right past it— As there is no chorus until the end, this is a possibly smart decision.)

Then the saddest fool who praises, with enthusiastic tone

All livelihoods but his and every person but his own

And while we’re on the subject, even I may get a whack

For ending my old title with a sorry “fade-to-black”—

Plus that singular anomaly—

My witness tamper-ist

I don’t think they’ll be missed

I’m sure he won’t be missed

(Bill ignores William’s own pointed glares during the “witness-tamper-ist” and “he won’t be missed”. On goes the chorus section again, just as planned.)

And that Nisi Prius nuisance,

who just now is rather rife The judicial “humorist” —

I've got him on the list

All funny fellows, comic men,

and clowns of private life —

They'd none of 'em be missed —

they'd none of 'em be missed And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as… What d'ya call him? Thing'em-bob, and likewise— Never-mind! And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —

(Another pointed glare at his father, though calling him a “statesman” would be far-fetched. But before the glare is returned, William moves on.)

The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

It appears that we have been delaying many a request.

If you have any suggestions, Elizabeth, then you will have to wait a little longer.

We are finally ready for your request.

Can we, Father? Please, oh, please, can we?

(Bill looks at Elizabeth and William. He contemplates.)

I am more dumbfounded that you are also begging for this, William.

I thought you would be dreading that song after rewinding that V-H-S one too many times.

(William, despite his situation, is offended.)

I? Dreading Under The Sea? What non—!

(He catches himself.)

What I mean to say is, I do not mind that song. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while back then. But that is the thing— That tiredness was practically decades ago.

So, please, let me sing this song for her. It is the least I can do.

(Bill huffs defeatedly.)

Very well.

The seaweed is always greener

In somebody else's lake

You dream about going up there

But that is a big mistake

Just look at the world around you

Right here on the ocean floor

Such wonderful things surround you

What more are you looking for?

Under the sea, under the sea

Darlin' it's better down where it's wetter—

Take it from me!

Up on the shore, they work all day

Out in the sun, they slave away

While we devotin' full time to floatin'

Under the sea—

It’s just a bit of a headache, dear. I’ve… gotten through much worse.

(Bill, though fully aware of the warning he received a moment ago, nods in agreement. He resumes his playing as William resumes the song.)

Down here all the fish are happy As off through the waves they roll The fish on the land ain't happy They’ sad cause they’ in their bowl But fish in the bowl is lucky They in for a worse-er fate One day when the boss gets hungry Guess who's gon' be on the plate? Uh-oh!

(As if to tempt fate itself, a few of the candle-lit fixtures go out on cue. The more modern objects simply flicker as William keeps going.)

Under the sea, under the sea

Nobody beats us—

Fry us and eat us in fricassee

We’ what the land folks loves to cook

Under the sea, we’ off the hook

We got no troubles, life is the bubbles!

(Bill “chimes” in by adding in the ensemble to his piano playing. He seems unfazed by the chill in the air, while his son’s eyes are starting to have a manic tinge to them.)

He will be “okay” soon enough.

I will explain once your song is over.

(William, on the other hand, decides to include Elizabeth in the routine. They do a little dance as he sings the faster-paced bridge section. His pupils do look a bit strange, but his happyexpression seems a lot more geniune.)

The newt play the flute

The carp play the harp

The plaice play the bass

And they soundin' sharp

The bass play the brass

The chub play the tub

The fluke is the duke of soul

The ray he can play

The lings on the strings

The trout rockin' out

The blackfish she sings

The smelt and the sprat,

they know where it's at

An' oh that blowfish blow!

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)

We shall begin with the oldest song first.

Or, at the very least, its opening section.

“A Wandering Minstrel, I” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

In its original key of F Major.

A wandering minstrel I—

A thing of shreds and patches,

Of ballads, songs and snatches,

And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,

Through every passion ranging,

And to your humours changing

I tune my supple song

I tune my supple song…

The next song is much more obscure.

Thankfully, the both of us know it quite well.

(*William straightens up. He attempts to refrain from adjusting his tie.*)

And I think, once you read and/or hear the lyrics, you will see why I picked it.

It is “Poor Little Me” by Benny Davis, circa 1922.

In the original key of E Flat Major.

Some changes have been made to streamline the song, while others are more… drastic.

I don't like to complain

But I think it's a shame

I don't know what the word love means

Ev'ry one I know

Has someone they love so

I've been forgotten it seems..

(*He leans more into the role, letting his voice ‘crack’ as the chorus swings in.*)

Poor little me!

Always lonesome and sad!

Poor little me— Always getting in bad!

No matter what I do or say,

Somehow I'm always in the way—

By thunder! I wonder

Will my luck change some day?

I've tried to be just as nice as I should

But I can see there's no fun being good!

I sit at home but no one calls

I'm tired of looking at the four bare walls

Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me?

(*He looks at his father with large “tearful” eyes. Bill simply glares. William, sensing much irritation, returns to his original singing stance. He goes into the second verse much more restrained.*)

Good luck passes me by

I keep wondering why—

Seems I just can't go on this way

I keep dreaming of

Somebody I could love!

I hope it comes true someday!

(*He then returns to leaning against the piano edge, this time placing the back of his hand against his face. He repeats the chorus [Which I will not type again because of time], but turns ‘snippy’ when the change in the second version comes:)

Nobody ever takes me out

They say I don't know what it's all about

So don't you feel sorry

For poor little me—?

(*Bill intensifies the lower parts of his piano playing. A twinge of fear enters William’s voice as he goes into the newly-penned “Chorus 3”:*)

Poor little me!

Always loathsome and sad! Poor little me—

Always getting in bad… No matter what you do or say, Somehow I’ll always ruin your day By thunder! No wonder My luck won’t change today!

I thought I’d be

Just as nice as I should

But I can see

That I’ll never be good!

Just keep me under lock and key

Or else I’ll be your source of agony— Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me!

Now that we have performed the songs I wanted, I suppose it is time for requests.

I believe there was someone who stopped by to drop off a letter?

Yes, sir. I spotted an envelope while you were playing an interlude.

Then I will play that request first.

Other requests will follow shortly.

Ah, Will.

Good to see you again.

You missed the first two— Well, three by now— songs.

But, can you do 'ive got a little list?' "

William, do you know this number?

I know we both made an effort to study The Mikado, but ah…

(*William’s eyes widen at the paper on the floor. However, he regains his composure rather quickly.*)

I think I can manage.

What key is it in?

(*Bill peers over Will’s shoulder.*)

E Flat Major, I believe.

And which version?

(*Bill skims again, but stops.*)

There are more versions?

To keep with the times and satire of the era, yes.

(Bill looks at Will with an unnaturally concerned look.)

He's searching now.

This I have to see.

There is a child here, Will.

That is true, but now I think my creative spark has flourished a little. Surely we can reach a compromise? Have me merge the two like some Frankensteinian creation? Live productions do change the lyrics on-the-fly, if I recall.

(*Bill sighs in disappointment.*)

There’s someone behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint.. with no regard for proper rules?

Thank you, sir. I try my best whenever the opportunity presents itself—

(Bill snatches the list from Will and closes it. He glares pointedly at William.)

Your best must be ours, then.

I will not stand for wasting any more time.

Sing the original and tweak when needed.

(William follows behind Bill while stammering something intelligible. Bill calmly sits back down at the piano bench.)

If you are so good at improvisation, then you must prove yourself worthy.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might (as) well be underground

And who never would be missed —

Who never would be missed!

(A slight pause, as to be expected. However, William manages to stay on time— Which, ironically, makes Bill a bit late.)

There's the pestilential nuisances who beg for photographs—

All people who have flabby hands

and irritating laughs —

(As he keeps going, he pulls out a pair of opera gloves from his jacket pocket and slips them on. Considering the lack of an extra-rosy face, this was probably a planned “sight gag”— as one might say.)

All people who are explain the jokes that makes ‘em all fall flat —

All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —

(He promptly shakes Bill’s hand very harshly. Bill winces afterwards, but recovers quickly.)

And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —

“They’d none of them be missed!

They’d none of them be missed!”

There’s the one behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists— “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint While disregarding proper rules

They never would be missed!

They never would be missed!

(Bill nearly does the chorus part again, but William bulldozes right past it— As there is no chorus until the end, this is a possibly smart decision.)

Then the saddest fool who praises, with enthusiastic tone

All livelihoods but his and every person but his own

And while we’re on the subject, even I may get a whack

For ending my old title with a sorry “fade-to-black”—

Plus that singular anomaly—

My witness tamper-ist

I don’t think they’ll be missed

I’m sure he won’t be missed

(Bill ignores William’s own pointed glares during the “witness-tamper-ist” and “he won’t be missed”. On goes the chorus section again, just as planned.)

And that Nisi Prius nuisance,

who just now is rather rife The judicial “humorist” —

I've got him on the list

All funny fellows, comic men,

and clowns of private life —

They'd none of 'em be missed —

they'd none of 'em be missed And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as… What d'ya call him? Thing'em-bob, and likewise— Never-mind! And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —

(Another pointed glare at his father, though calling him a “statesman” would be far-fetched. But before the glare is returned, William moves on.)

The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

It appears that we have been delaying many a request.

If you have any suggestions, Elizabeth, then you will have to wait a little longer.

We are finally ready for your request.

Can we, Father? Please, oh, please, can we?

(Bill looks at Elizabeth and William. He contemplates.)

I am more dumbfounded that you are also begging for this, William.

I thought you would be dreading that song after rewinding that V-H-S one too many times.

(William, despite his situation, is offended.)

I? Dreading Under The Sea? What non—!

(He catches himself.)

What I mean to say is, I do not mind that song. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while back then. But that is the thing— That tiredness was practically decades ago.

So, please, let me sing this song for her. It is the least I can do.

(Bill huffs defeatedly.)

Very well.

The seaweed is always greener

In somebody else's lake

You dream about going up there

But that is a big mistake

Just look at the world around you

Right here on the ocean floor

Such wonderful things surround you

What more are you looking for?

Under the sea, under the sea

Darlin' it's better down where it's wetter—

Take it from me!

Up on the shore, they work all day

Out in the sun, they slave away

While we devotin' full time to floatin'

Under the sea—

It’s just a bit of a headache, dear. I’ve… gotten through much worse.

(Bill, though fully aware of the warning he received a moment ago, nods in agreement. He resumes his playing as William resumes the song.)

Down here all the fish are happy As off through the waves they roll The fish on the land ain't happy They’ sad cause they’ in their bowl But fish in the bowl is lucky They in for a worse-er fate One day when the boss gets hungry Guess who's gon' be on the plate? Uh-oh!

(As if to tempt fate itself, a few of the candle-lit fixtures go out on cue. The more modern objects simply flicker as William keeps going.)

Under the sea, under the sea

Nobody beats us—

Fry us and eat us in fricassee

We’ what the land folks loves to cook

Under the sea, we’ off the hook

We got no troubles, life is the bubbles!

(Bill “chimes” in by adding in the ensemble to his piano playing. He seems unfazed by the chill in the air, while his son’s eyes are starting to have a manic tinge to them.)

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)

We shall begin with the oldest song first.

Or, at the very least, its opening section.

“A Wandering Minstrel, I” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

In its original key of F Major.

A wandering minstrel I—

A thing of shreds and patches,

Of ballads, songs and snatches,

And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,

Through every passion ranging,

And to your humours changing

I tune my supple song

I tune my supple song…

The next song is much more obscure.

Thankfully, the both of us know it quite well.

(*William straightens up. He attempts to refrain from adjusting his tie.*)

And I think, once you read and/or hear the lyrics, you will see why I picked it.

It is “Poor Little Me” by Benny Davis, circa 1922.

In the original key of E Flat Major.

Some changes have been made to streamline the song, while others are more… drastic.

I don't like to complain

But I think it's a shame

I don't know what the word love means

Ev'ry one I know

Has someone they love so

I've been forgotten it seems..

(*He leans more into the role, letting his voice ‘crack’ as the chorus swings in.*)

Poor little me!

Always lonesome and sad!

Poor little me— Always getting in bad!

No matter what I do or say,

Somehow I'm always in the way—

By thunder! I wonder

Will my luck change some day?

I've tried to be just as nice as I should

But I can see there's no fun being good!

I sit at home but no one calls

I'm tired of looking at the four bare walls

Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me?

(*He looks at his father with large “tearful” eyes. Bill simply glares. William, sensing much irritation, returns to his original singing stance. He goes into the second verse much more restrained.*)

Good luck passes me by

I keep wondering why—

Seems I just can't go on this way

I keep dreaming of

Somebody I could love!

I hope it comes true someday!

(*He then returns to leaning against the piano edge, this time placing the back of his hand against his face. He repeats the chorus [Which I will not type again because of time], but turns ‘snippy’ when the change in the second version comes:)

Nobody ever takes me out

They say I don't know what it's all about

So don't you feel sorry

For poor little me—?

(*Bill intensifies the lower parts of his piano playing. A twinge of fear enters William’s voice as he goes into the newly-penned “Chorus 3”:*)

Poor little me!

Always loathsome and sad! Poor little me—

Always getting in bad… No matter what you do or say, Somehow I’ll always ruin your day By thunder! No wonder My luck won’t change today!

I thought I’d be

Just as nice as I should

But I can see

That I’ll never be good!

Just keep me under lock and key

Or else I’ll be your source of agony— Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me!

Now that we have performed the songs I wanted, I suppose it is time for requests.

I believe there was someone who stopped by to drop off a letter?

Yes, sir. I spotted an envelope while you were playing an interlude.

Then I will play that request first.

Other requests will follow shortly.

Ah, Will.

Good to see you again.

You missed the first two— Well, three by now— songs.

But, can you do 'ive got a little list?' "

William, do you know this number?

I know we both made an effort to study The Mikado, but ah…

(*William’s eyes widen at the paper on the floor. However, he regains his composure rather quickly.*)

I think I can manage.

What key is it in?

(*Bill peers over Will’s shoulder.*)

E Flat Major, I believe.

And which version?

(*Bill skims again, but stops.*)

There are more versions?

To keep with the times and satire of the era, yes.

(Bill looks at Will with an unnaturally concerned look.)

He's searching now.

This I have to see.

There is a child here, Will.

That is true, but now I think my creative spark has flourished a little. Surely we can reach a compromise? Have me merge the two like some Frankensteinian creation? Live productions do change the lyrics on-the-fly, if I recall.

(*Bill sighs in disappointment.*)

There’s someone behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint.. with no regard for proper rules?

Thank you, sir. I try my best whenever the opportunity presents itself—

(Bill snatches the list from Will and closes it. He glares pointedly at William.)

Your best must be ours, then.

I will not stand for wasting any more time.

Sing the original and tweak when needed.

(William follows behind Bill while stammering something intelligible. Bill calmly sits back down at the piano bench.)

If you are so good at improvisation, then you must prove yourself worthy.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might (as) well be underground

And who never would be missed —

Who never would be missed!

(A slight pause, as to be expected. However, William manages to stay on time— Which, ironically, makes Bill a bit late.)

There's the pestilential nuisances who beg for photographs—

All people who have flabby hands

and irritating laughs —

(As he keeps going, he pulls out a pair of opera gloves from his jacket pocket and slips them on. Considering the lack of an extra-rosy face, this was probably a planned “sight gag”— as one might say.)

All people who are explain the jokes that makes ‘em all fall flat —

All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —

(He promptly shakes Bill’s hand very harshly. Bill winces afterwards, but recovers quickly.)

And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —

“They’d none of them be missed!

They’d none of them be missed!”

There’s the one behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists— “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint While disregarding proper rules

They never would be missed!

They never would be missed!

(Bill nearly does the chorus part again, but William bulldozes right past it— As there is no chorus until the end, this is a possibly smart decision.)

Then the saddest fool who praises, with enthusiastic tone

All livelihoods but his and every person but his own

And while we’re on the subject, even I may get a whack

For ending my old title with a sorry “fade-to-black”—

Plus that singular anomaly—

My witness tamper-ist

I don’t think they’ll be missed

I’m sure he won’t be missed

(Bill ignores William’s own pointed glares during the “witness-tamper-ist” and “he won’t be missed”. On goes the chorus section again, just as planned.)

And that Nisi Prius nuisance,

who just now is rather rife The judicial “humorist” —

I've got him on the list

All funny fellows, comic men,

and clowns of private life —

They'd none of 'em be missed —

they'd none of 'em be missed And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as… What d'ya call him? Thing'em-bob, and likewise— Never-mind! And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —

(Another pointed glare at his father, though calling him a “statesman” would be far-fetched. But before the glare is returned, William moves on.)

The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

It appears that we have been delaying many a request.

If you have any suggestions, Elizabeth, then you will have to wait a little longer.

We are finally ready for your request.

Can we, Father? Please, oh, please, can we?

(Bill looks at Elizabeth and William. He contemplates.)

I am more dumbfounded that you are also begging for this, William.

I thought you would be dreading that song after rewinding that V-H-S one too many times.

(William, despite his situation, is offended.)

I? Dreading Under The Sea? What non—!

(He catches himself.)

What I mean to say is, I do not mind that song. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while back then. But that is the thing— That tiredness was practically decades ago.

So, please, let me sing this song for her. It is the least I can do.

(Bill huffs defeatedly.)

Very well.

The seaweed is always greener

In somebody else's lake

You dream about going up there

But that is a big mistake

Just look at the world around you

Right here on the ocean floor

Such wonderful things surround you

What more are you looking for?

Under the sea, under the sea

Darlin' it's better down where it's wetter—

Take it from me!

Up on the shore, they work all day

Out in the sun, they slave away

While we devotin' full time to floatin'

Under the sea—

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)

We shall begin with the oldest song first.

Or, at the very least, its opening section.

“A Wandering Minstrel, I” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

In its original key of F Major.

A wandering minstrel I—

A thing of shreds and patches,

Of ballads, songs and snatches,

And dreamy lullaby!

My catalogue is long,

Through every passion ranging,

And to your humours changing

I tune my supple song

I tune my supple song…

The next song is much more obscure.

Thankfully, the both of us know it quite well.

(*William straightens up. He attempts to refrain from adjusting his tie.*)

And I think, once you read and/or hear the lyrics, you will see why I picked it.

It is “Poor Little Me” by Benny Davis, circa 1922.

In the original key of E Flat Major.

Some changes have been made to streamline the song, while others are more… drastic.

I don't like to complain

But I think it's a shame

I don't know what the word love means

Ev'ry one I know

Has someone they love so

I've been forgotten it seems..

(*He leans more into the role, letting his voice ‘crack’ as the chorus swings in.*)

Poor little me!

Always lonesome and sad!

Poor little me— Always getting in bad!

No matter what I do or say,

Somehow I'm always in the way—

By thunder! I wonder

Will my luck change some day?

I've tried to be just as nice as I should

But I can see there's no fun being good!

I sit at home but no one calls

I'm tired of looking at the four bare walls

Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me?

(*He looks at his father with large “tearful” eyes. Bill simply glares. William, sensing much irritation, returns to his original singing stance. He goes into the second verse much more restrained.*)

Good luck passes me by

I keep wondering why—

Seems I just can't go on this way

I keep dreaming of

Somebody I could love!

I hope it comes true someday!

(*He then returns to leaning against the piano edge, this time placing the back of his hand against his face. He repeats the chorus [Which I will not type again because of time], but turns ‘snippy’ when the change in the second version comes:)

Nobody ever takes me out

They say I don't know what it's all about

So don't you feel sorry

For poor little me—?

(*Bill intensifies the lower parts of his piano playing. A twinge of fear enters William’s voice as he goes into the newly-penned “Chorus 3”:*)

Poor little me!

Always loathsome and sad! Poor little me—

Always getting in bad… No matter what you do or say, Somehow I’ll always ruin your day By thunder! No wonder My luck won’t change today!

I thought I’d be

Just as nice as I should

But I can see

That I’ll never be good!

Just keep me under lock and key

Or else I’ll be your source of agony— Oh, don’t you feel sorry

For poor little me!

Now that we have performed the songs I wanted, I suppose it is time for requests.

I believe there was someone who stopped by to drop off a letter?

Yes, sir. I spotted an envelope while you were playing an interlude.

Then I will play that request first.

Other requests will follow shortly.

Ah, Will.

Good to see you again.

You missed the first two— Well, three by now— songs.

But, can you do 'ive got a little list?' "

William, do you know this number?

I know we both made an effort to study The Mikado, but ah…

(*William’s eyes widen at the paper on the floor. However, he regains his composure rather quickly.*)

I think I can manage.

What key is it in?

(*Bill peers over Will’s shoulder.*)

E Flat Major, I believe.

And which version?

(*Bill skims again, but stops.*)

There are more versions?

To keep with the times and satire of the era, yes.

(Bill looks at Will with an unnaturally concerned look.)

He's searching now.

This I have to see.

There is a child here, Will.

That is true, but now I think my creative spark has flourished a little. Surely we can reach a compromise? Have me merge the two like some Frankensteinian creation? Live productions do change the lyrics on-the-fly, if I recall.

(*Bill sighs in disappointment.*)

There’s someone behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint.. with no regard for proper rules?

Thank you, sir. I try my best whenever the opportunity presents itself—

(Bill snatches the list from Will and closes it. He glares pointedly at William.)

Your best must be ours, then.

I will not stand for wasting any more time.

Sing the original and tweak when needed.

(William follows behind Bill while stammering something intelligible. Bill calmly sits back down at the piano bench.)

If you are so good at improvisation, then you must prove yourself worthy.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might (as) well be underground

And who never would be missed —

Who never would be missed!

(A slight pause, as to be expected. However, William manages to stay on time— Which, ironically, makes Bill a bit late.)

There's the pestilential nuisances who beg for photographs—

All people who have flabby hands

and irritating laughs —

(As he keeps going, he pulls out a pair of opera gloves from his jacket pocket and slips them on. Considering the lack of an extra-rosy face, this was probably a planned “sight gag”— as one might say.)

All people who are explain the jokes that makes ‘em all fall flat —

All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —

(He promptly shakes Bill’s hand very harshly. Bill winces afterwards, but recovers quickly.)

And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —

“They’d none of them be missed!

They’d none of them be missed!”

There’s the one behind the news reporter acting like a fool

And the Mimic who insists— “I’ve got you on my list”

And the people who eat peppermint While disregarding proper rules

They never would be missed!

They never would be missed!

(Bill nearly does the chorus part again, but William bulldozes right past it— As there is no chorus until the end, this is a possibly smart decision.)

Then the saddest fool who praises, with enthusiastic tone

All livelihoods but his and every person but his own

And while we’re on the subject, even I may get a whack

For ending my old title with a sorry “fade-to-black”—

Plus that singular anomaly—

My witness tamper-ist

I don’t think they’ll be missed

I’m sure he won’t be missed

(Bill ignores William’s own pointed glares during the “witness-tamper-ist” and “he won’t be missed”. On goes the chorus section again, just as planned.)

And that Nisi Prius nuisance,

who just now is rather rife The judicial “humorist” —

I've got him on the list

All funny fellows, comic men,

and clowns of private life —

They'd none of 'em be missed —

they'd none of 'em be missed And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as… What d'ya call him? Thing'em-bob, and likewise— Never-mind! And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —

(Another pointed glare at his father, though calling him a “statesman” would be far-fetched. But before the glare is returned, William moves on.)

The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

It appears that we have been delaying many a request.

If you have any suggestions, Elizabeth, then you will have to wait a little longer.

We are finally ready for your request.

Can we, Father? Please, oh, please, can we?

(Bill looks at Elizabeth and William. He contemplates.)

I am more dumbfounded that you are also begging for this, William.

I thought you would be dreading that song after rewinding that V-H-S one too many times.

(William, despite his situation, is offended.)

I? Dreading Under The Sea? What non—!

(He catches himself.)

What I mean to say is, I do not mind that song. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while back then. But that is the thing— That tiredness was practically decades ago.

So, please, let me sing this song for her. It is the least I can do.

(Bill huffs defeatedly.)

Very well.

There is a concert at my house about to start.

I was wondering if you could join my son and I.

I am aware that this is short notice.

At least I can assure you that refreshments may be provided.

If need be, there may be song requests you can drop in my inbox.

(*Bill signals to William, who now looks a bit nervous. Nevertheless, he gets up from the piano bench. Bill takes his place.*)