MC: Good evening.  We've had two different casts performing this show; we wanted to
cast the entire thing according to favouritism, but somebody apparently decided that they
wanted to "play fair"--whatever that means--and put on a show in which the lead actually
has talent.  Tonight's performance, however, features Cast A, whose lead does not fit that
pesky criteria.

Me: Dangit!

Lights dim.  Conductor gets into position; breathless pause before--

Mini-Orchestra: Ack!  We haven't done any practising outside of mandatory rehearsals,
and therefore don't have our timing/fingering/notes learned!
Conductor: You shmucks!  Don't let the audience know!  Play something, dammit!

Out-of-key overture-type stuff.  Lights up to reveal three women on stage.

Belinda: Hi.  My voice is approximately a zillion times nicer to listen to than the chick
who's playing Dido tonight, which is why I'm singing the part of her Lady's Maid.  No, I
don't understand the politics of the Musical Arts programme, either.
Second Woman: Hi.  No, I don't even get a name.  I'm just here to provide the alto line of
the harmonies.  Feel free to ignore me, even though I'm a solid singer whose voice is also
more pleasant than Dido's.
Dido: Hi.  I'm a wooden actress whose voice isn't trying hard enough to sing soprano
from way the hell in the back of my throat.  Luckily, I've been sucking up to as many
members of the Faculty of Music as I could for the past three years, which is why I get to
be the tragic heroine.  Speaking of which--oh, my pain, my sorrow.  Oh, oh.
Belinda: Is this about love?
Dido: Does a cow moo?  Does the university gouge for money?  Does my voice sound
like I'm singing through an orange I swallowed whole?
Belinda: I see.  But dude, stop crying--he loves you too!

Enter Aeneas, majestically.

Aeneas: I do!  I really do!
Belinda: Holy crap.  How did YOU get cast as the male lead?  You sound like you're
singing through hiccups while your voice is changing.
Aeneas: Shut up, LADY'S MAID.
Belinda: Oh, bite me.
Aeneas: Anyway, where was I?  Oh, right--hey, baby.  Wanna hook up?
Dido: Oh, you.

Marriage, or fidelity ritual, or something weird involving hunting bows.  Triumphant
music.  Then music that's less triumphant and more portentously jittery.  Enter
Sorcerer/ess.

Sorcerer/ess: Hi.  I'm played by a guy, but in the programme I'm listed as "Sorceress",
which is just confusing.  Anyway, I'm also an incredibly weak singer, but there's plot
movement afoot, so just listen close, okay?  My diction, at least, is excellent.  --Oh
Witches!  Come and help me curse the title characters!

Enter Witches.

Witches: Hi.  We're all insane.  And, amazingly enough, talented singers.  Enjoy us while
you can.  --Hey, evil master Sorcerer/ess!  Why should we curse them?
Sorcerer/ess:  Because they've got money and stuff.  And because they're secure in the
knowledge of their genders.  That's the thing that really grates my cheese.

Remarkably upbeat evil magic is performed.  The Witches and the Sorcerer/ess leave,
and Dido, Aeneas and Belinda return.

Aeneas: Observe my mighty spear, on which my mighty strength has skewered the head
of a mighty boar!
Dido: That's nice, dear.
Belinda: Uh-oh.  It's starting to cloud over.  Aeneas, I think you killed something you
weren't supposed to.
Aeneas: What makes you think that?
Belinda: Heck, I dunno.  So much stuff has been trimmed out of this performance, I can't
keep track of the hacked-up subplots.  But hey, dead boar, threatening storm, the fact that
we're all, like, Ancient Greeks who are always making the gods angry about something or
other--I figure there's gotta be a connection.
Dido: You are a wise girl.  Now stop singing and go away.  You're making my lack of
talent painfully obvious to the audience, LADY'S MAID.
Belinda: Oh, bite me.
Dido: Oh Aeneas, I'm frightened!  What if we've made somebody mad?  Tragedy and
doom could befall us!  I've read Oedipus, I know what I'm talking about.
Aeneas: There, there.  Our love is stronger than the fates!

Dido leaves.  A Witch enters.

Witch: Aeneas, have you ever heard the word "jinx"?
Aeneas: Oh, crap.

Blah blah exposition in the form of a recitative.  Aeneas leaves, distraught, and the
Sorcerer/ess returns with the rest of the Witches.

Sorcerer/ess: Witches!  Do the dance of Evil Glee!
Witches: Can we sing, too?
Sorcerer/ess: Eh, why not.  We're thrashing their gender-specific asses!

Evil Glee is expressed in song and dance.  Then the music turns sombre, the bad guys
leave, and Dido, Aeneas and Belinda enter.

Dido: So am I supposed to be angry right now, or hurt?  Sad?  Betrayed?  Something, I
dunno, negative in some way?
Aeneas: Well, the love of your life IS going away to war or something, choosing the
company of lots of sweaty sailors and soldiers over you.
Dido: Yeah, that does kinda suck.  You big meanie!  You're gonna be around all those
swarthy, sweaty sailors and soldiers, and you're not taking me!  Wah!
Aeneas: Heck, yeah.  --Uh, I mean, that's not the point.
Dido: Of course it is!  Meanie!  You're going away, you're taking all the men--who will
be left to go hunting and try to impress me with the size of his boar?
Aeneas: Well, you know, there's also the thing where this mission comes direct from the
gods...
Dido: Oh, the GODS!  You're always taking their side over mine!  I swear, sometimes I
don't even know why we did that weird fidelity ritual with our hunting bows!
Aeneas: Fine.  If it means that much to you--I won't go.  I'll risk the wrath of the gods to
be with you, but dammit, Dido, it'll be worth it, because I LOVE YOU!
Dido: Nuh-uh.  You don't get out of it that easily, buster.  You said you were gonna
go--you already made your decision, and you chose the sweaty sailors and soldiers!  Just
go!  Go, and let me die!
Aeneas: Wait--die?  How did we get to you dying?
Dido: It's the tragic romance!  Fates keeping us apart, evil curses, romantic suicides, it's
this whole big thing.  Very pathetic.
Belinda: I'll say.
Dido: Shut up, LADY'S MAID!
Belinda: Oh, bite me.  No, wait...bite IT!!  Hee, hee, hee!
Aeneas: Well, if you're going to kill yourself when I leave, I'm just not gonna.
Dido: No!  I told you, you made your choice and can't change it now!  Just go!
Aeneas: No.
Dido: Leave!
Aeneas: Nope.
Dido: Begone!
Aeneas: Nuh-uh.
Dido: Vamoose!
Aeneas: Can't make me.
Dido: Oh, for the love of--here!  See this dagger?  Want me to skewer your head on it like
that boar you killed that got us into this mess?
Aeneas: Well, when you put it that way...

Aeneas leaves.  Sombre music plays.

Dido: Ah, finally.  Time for my emotionally rending death scene.
Belinda: The one in which you use the dagger to nick your arms so you can believably
sing for five minutes about your poor lost love and your poor tragic life before "dying" of
"blood loss"?
Dido: The very one.  Owie!
Belinda: Didn't you know that death by self-inflicted blood loss is actually pretty darn
painful?
Dido: Shut up...Lady's...maid...

Dido dies.  Sad music plays.  Pathos drips from every note.  Half the orchestra leaves
before the end of the final chord to go get drunk.  Curtain.