Congratulations on Attending the Best Fucking Opera You've Ever Seen!

You spend a lot of time at the opera.  It’s a byproduct of being a wealthy aristocrat with ample time and resources and little intellect or motivation.  That doesn’t mean you actually like the opera any more.  It’s just as interminably boring for you as it is for the next guy (with the exception of The Who’s Tommy).  In fact, it’s sort of worse.  The fact that you’ve had the time and money to see so many operas means you see renditions of the same tired pieces again and again from musicians who traded ambition for steady pay years ago and have long since fallen into an uneasy pattern of musicality as means, rather than means of expression.

So when you show up at the operahouse tonight you’re going to snort and laugh at the prospect that this new opera is going to “totally blow your fucking mind,” as your friend told you it would.  When the house lights dim you’ll prepare yourself to be bombarded by a culturedump to forget.

But as the opening bars of unfamiliar music float through the hall something incredible will happen.  Masked women will descend from the stage into the crowd.  They’ll begin in the front row, bowing down for a few minutes and then rising up as the men and women they engage with cackle with glee.  When they reach your row you’ll be pregnant with curiosity.  The masks, the delicately concealed curves, all the more sensuous for lack of light, the gloved hands.  It will all be so titillating that you’ll be aroused before the young woman who approaches you unzips your pants and asks you to please remain quiet while she jacks you off.

You’ll abide her, stuffing your tie into your mouth as you thrash about wildly in your seat.  You’ll moan and shriek into your cloth before ejaculating on her hand, at which point she’ll gently thank you before removing her gloves and placing them in an ornate fanny-pack suspended at her side.  She’ll withdraw another pair of clean gloves from her cleavage before moving on.

You’ll fall asleep a few minutes after that, but the next day you’ll be all over your blog ranting about how you just saw the best opera ever, and you plan to see it every night this week, $500 ticket prices be damned.

Congratulations on Attending the Best Fucking Opera You’ve Ever Seen!