Conversation with a song

The Characters:

New Song: looks like a Dickensonion malnourished kid.
Sitting Next to Brian: Fat, lazy decadent guy with a 1920's moustache, smoking a cigar, a glass of scotch at his side.

The scene: SNTB is in his parlour reading the newspaper, apparently all alone.
New Song appears from out of a darkened corner.

NS: Hey mister, pardon me, sir.
SNTB (startled, ashes on his lap): Hmm? What? Who in god's name are you? Where did you come from?
NS: I'm a new song of yours, and I'd be ever so pleased if you put me on your new album?
SNTB: Nonsense! Impossible! I already have enough songs, and the album is fine as it is. Anyway, look at you. You're scrawny! What are you, a title and a bridge?
NS: A riff and part of a verse, actually. But if you feed me for a couple of days I swear to you I'll grow into quite a good piece.
SNTB: Well, I admit, it is a rather good melody you've got there...and the riff, yes, could work. I have news for you, little pipsqueak.
NS: Yeah? Wot?
SNTB: YOU'RE A DAMN LIAR! A DELIQUENT! GET OUR BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE! For your information, you are not one of mine. I never came up with any of those ideas.
NS: With all due respect, sir, you did indeed. On December 4 to be exact.
SNTB: December 4? No, on that night I was out celebrating my birthday with friends late into the night.
NS: And on your way home, I fell out of the sky into your psyche.
SNTB: On my way home? Why I don't even remember how I got home that night.
NS: You walked, and then you sang me into your cell phone. Check your voice memo.
SNTB: Well, I'll be. There you are! I must say I owe you an apology.
NS: So can I be on the new album? Well, can I?

LIGHTS DIM. END OF ACT 1. INTERMISSION UNTIL WHO KNOWS.