Curioddity by Paul Jenkins Read Free Book Online

people know that he was a Freemason and that he composed his first concerto at the age of five. There was a movie and a rock song about it. But very few people know that Mozart was also a scientist and mathematician, and that he dabbled in musical alchemy. In his later years, he was being driven mad by his own genius—so much so that he traveled to consult a famous doctor in Vienna before he lost the plot entirely.” Mr. Dinsdale picked up the yellowed sheets and looked about the coffee shop in conspiratorial fashion. “The Viennese doctor advised Mozart that he was indeed going crazy as a result of having too many competing thoughts in his head at the same time,” continued the little man in a hushed voice. “He advised Wolfgang that he needed to go home and compose himself. And that’s exactly what the great man did. What you are looking at is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in musical form!”
    Dinsdale handed the musical notations across the table so that Wil could take a look for himself. Wil blushed and closed his eyes. “Okay, I get it,” he said with a chuckle. While he hadn’t spotted any of the TV cameras on the way in, Wil knew that when he opened his eyes the little man would be sitting next to a game show host, and that all of the customers in the coffee shop would be revealed as audience participants. He consoled himself with the thought that if he were very lucky, the morning phone message from his dad might also possibly be someone pulling his leg. He just hoped beyond hope that he hadn’t picked his nose, or something, while on camera.
    Wil opened his eyes to find Mr. Dinsdale smiling at him, patiently. No one else in the coffee shop seemed to be in on the game. Wil began to imagine he was trapped in the center lane of a three-lane highway, driving a tiny European compact with two enormous eighteen-wheelers keeping pace on either side: it’s one thing to go out crushed between something heavy, he thought, but it’s another thing altogether if you feel utterly ridiculous when it happens. He glared at the little man across the table. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked, barely trying to hide his annoyance.
    â€œNo, it’s a concerto, I think,” replied Dinsdale, stuffing the parchment back into his pocket. “I needed to show you an authentic exhibit in case you doubted my sincerity. For as you have no doubt guessed, I am indeed the curator of the Curioddity Museum!”
    Mr. Dinsdale sat back in his chair and waited for Wil to slap his forehead with his palm and say, “Of course!” But the old man was going to be in for a long wait. At this very moment, Wil was deciding whether or not to lean forward and slap Dinsdale on the forehead, thus pushing him off his chair. The little man’s face began to fall as he realized Wil may or may not have understood the significance of his previous statement. “The Curioddity Museum,” he repeated, aghast that Wil seemed to be struggling to understand. “Don’t tell me you’ve worked in the city for all this time and haven’t found your way to the Museum of Curioddity?”
    â€œThat would have been difficult,” said Wil, sharply, “since I’ve never even heard of it. Who put you up to this?”
    Mr. Dinsdale (Wil was beginning to suspect this was not even his real name) was now beginning to look most perturbed indeed. He pulled the musical notations from his pocket once again. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I fancy you may have misunderstood my intentions. If you’d like to examine the documents once again you can attest to their authenticity—”
    Wil took the documents, as if to examine them. And promptly dropped them on the ground. The papers seemed to make a faint tinkling sound that resembled the famous overture of the Marriage of Figaro, which he ignored. He wasn’t too fond of tricks, and this particularly elaborate one