Observing the Classics

[Ameronth]

*Brawler Beckett enters his study, dressed in tasteful smoking jacket, black silk cravat, and slippers, a leather-bound book in one hand, a glass of scotch in the other. He shuts the study door quietly and walks over to a large plush armchair near the crackling fireplace. He sets the book and the glass of scotch on a small mahogany table near the chair, then walks over to the eastern wall, where a turntable sits near a small shelf. Beckett thumbs through vinyl albums on the shelf and settles on record. He carefully removes the record from its sleeve and places it gingerly on the turntable, gently places the needle, and turns the machine on. The gentle melodies of Mozart softly lilt through the room. Beckett’s face reveals the faintest of smiles as he momentarily closes his eyes, then turns and walk back to his chair, humming along to the record. Beckett eases himself into the chair and takes a delicate sip of the well-aged scotch, savoring its flavor, before replacing the glass and reaching for the book.*

BECKETT: “Ah, Agatha Christie. Tonight, I will finish the last of your masterworks. I have long awaited this moment…”

*With that sentiment voiced, Beckett opens the book at his bookmark and finds the exact place he left off. He reads for a moment, then settles back in his chair with a contented sigh and loses himself in the moment as Inspector Humphries closes in on the killer- when buzzer for his front door sounds. Beckett blinks without looking up and continues reading. Another round of buzzing cuts through Mozart’s symphony.*

BECKETT: “I am not here…”

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!*

BECKETT: “Damn!”

*Beckett snaps the book shut and places it on the table, then gets up, clearly aggravated, opens the door to his study, and walks to his front door. Beckett opens the door abruptly.*

BECKETT: “WHAT do you WANT?!”

*Before Beckett is a large man dressed in a black singlet and wearing a silver and black mask. The masked man stretches a black gloved hand toward Beckett, and in that hand is a silver envelope.*

MASKED MAN: “Wrestling telegram, Mr. Beckett.”

BECKETT: “Really?”

MASKED MAN: “Yes, Mr. Beckett.”

BECKETT: “Are you expecting a tip?”

MASKED MAN: “We are not allowed to accept tips, Mr. Beckett.”

BECKETT: "Pity. I was going to enjoy not giving you one."

*Beckett snatches the envelope from the masked man and slams the door shut. Beckett hastily opens the telegram, wanting nothing more than to return to his book. Beckett reads the telegram.*

BECKETT: “Page 352: Humphries dies right after finding out the killer is his own father. – S”

*Beckett's face goes white, but he remains still. At last, he crumples the message and throws it onto the fireplace. Then, Beckett turns to his chair and picks up the leather-bound volume. He kisses it, ever so gently, and then throws it as hard as he can into the fire! He kicks the chair, sending one of his slippers flying, and breaks off one of the legs, which, in turn, he casts into the fire as well. The concerto reaches a crescendo as Becket stalks along the book shelf, knocking books to the floor and stomping furiously on them. Finally, he reaches the record player. Seething, he glares at it as it plays. When finally it finishes, he gently lifts the needle and sets it aside, picks up the precious record, and sends it sailing across the room, shattering the window!*

BECKETT: "AAAAAAARRRRRZZZZOOOOONNN!"