The crowd at the symphony hall rose im applause as Francois Pforzheim, the renowned conductor, walked from the side of the stage to the podium before the 104-member Zurich Symphony Orchestra. After taking three long bows, Francois moved his lengthy hair backward with right hand as he used his left hand to tap his baton on the podium to get the musicians' attention. Nodding his head, Francois indicated that they begin a concerto by Franz Lizst.
Francis slowly moved his baton to indicate the andante tempo at the being of the piece. Smiling that he was getting the tonal quality he desired, Francois heard discordant noise behind him.
"Francie, get off," the woman's voice said. Francois removed this distraction from his head, concentrating harder on maintaining the tempo with his baton. He pointed at the woodwinds as their section of the piece arrived. "Francie, get off the table NOW!" the voice repeated. Francois grimaced at this distraction, but redoubled his effort to ignore it, lest it throw him off the tempo he had established.
"Get off, Francie. And put your toothbrush back in the bathroom," the voice added. Francois closed his eyes for a second. Reopening them, he saw that his baton was gone, replaced by a small toothbrush. Puzzled, Francois flit his eyes from side to side. "Francie, put something on. You can't run around only in your underwear," the voice added.
Francois quickly looked down and noticed his swallowtail coat missing. Glancing back at the orchestra for a quick moment, Francois looked down again. His shirt and tie were gone, leaving him bare-chested. "What's going on?" Francois puzzled. Reconcentrating on the orchestra, Francois vowed to continue as if nothing had happened. He continued to gaily wave his toothbrush? Francois felt a draft. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing only what resembled a pair of brightly printed training pants. His nervousness rising, Francois heard once more a loud, "Francie!" Finally turning around, the orchestra hall was gone.
Francois was in the middle of a living room. A large woman smiled at him. "So I finally got your attention," the woman said. Francois looked around the new surroundings. He found that he was standing not on a stage by a podium, but on a coffee table. Instead of being before an orchestra, he was half a room away from a CD player containing a recording of a Lizst concert.
"What's the matter, Francie?" the woman asked. "I no understand," Francois said. "Me not conducting orchestra." Francois looked up at the woman. "And just who are you supposed to be?" the woman asked. "Me Francois Pforzheim, conductor of the Zurich Symphony Orchestra," Francois tried to explain. "No you're not. You're Francie Posten, a little girl standing on my coffee table in only her panties, waving her toothbrush in time to the music I'm playing," the woman replied. "I'm not?" Francie said. "No, silly. You're my 3-year-old daughter. Now off the table and get into your pajamas."
Francie complied. But she remained puzzled. How did she go from being a 45-year-old man noted as one of the best symphony conductors in the world to a preschool girl? It didn't make sense. Then her mother made her forget all about this situation.
"Want some ice cream, Francie?" the woman asked.
"Yeth! Chocolate!" Francie enthusiastically replied.
Franz Lizst would have to wait for her another day!