Alice Cooper - Is It My Body

“I sat at the work table and sewed,” Mrs. Mozart continued the story, addressing the ladies, “when I heard that my husband had climbed the stairs and asked the servant where I was.” His steps and voice seemed to me more confident and peppy than I expected and than I, in truth, would like to. At first he went to his room, but immediately went out from there to me. “Good evening,” he said; I barely answered him without even raising my head from sewing. He walked silently several times around the room, then with a feigned yawn pulled out a flycracker from behind the door, which he had never done before, and muttered, “Where did these flies come from?” He began to clap with all his might. This sound was always hated by him, and therefore I was by no means allowed to use the clapperboard in his presence. “Yes,” I thought, “when you do something yourself,you don’t care about anything, especially in men. ”