The host, the interior designer, and Borys were stylizing the estate with the newest purchases from the "Animal House," a self-described avant-garde art gallery that specialized in the artwork of zoo-animals.  

“Borys, put it over there.” 

The Ukrainian man picked up the canvas, an indecipherable modernist picture painted by an elephant, and held it over the wall. 

“Nigel, you’re a genius!” cried out the interior designer.
"Borys," said Nigel, disregarding the comment of the women dressed in overwhelming pink, “try it over there.”

Borys shifted to the left. 

“Genius!” she said under her breath, just loud enough for Nigel to hear.

Nigel paced across the room, observing his elephant art from multiple angles. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and then stared into the painting, immersing himself in the singular blood-red streaks that characterized the artwork.

“Borys, I'm not feeling it. We need to somehow match the minimalist theme. Put it where you had it before.”
Borys took two steps to the right. 

“NIGEL! This is genius!” 

Nigel then nodded in acknowledgement and gave Borys a thumbs up. Borys took a nail, hammered it into the wall, and mounted the picture. He picked up another elephant painting from the stack. 

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, Nigel's twenty equally-affluent guests gathered to listen to Nigel's personal, award-wining orchestra. The group was composed of Nigel's fifteen gardeners, each of whom performed by shutting his eyes, twitching his bow-arm furiously over a plastic instrument, and swaying back and forth while an iTunes playlist played throughout the room. The conductor was a native Italian who, before every concert, subjected himself to sleep-deprivation, two cans of hairspray, and an overwhelming amount of PCP. The result was a stammering madman who occasionally suffered a stroke while shaking the baton at the orchestra, something the audience often misinterpreted as "passion." Hail battered the gothic windows as the orchestra synchronized to Claude Debussy’s “Claire de Lune.” The only Asian man in Nigel's employment, a Japanese florist, was placed directly in front of the orchestra with a cello.

"I can't believe he got Yo-Yo Ma!" exclaimed one of the guests.
After another hour of hanging elephant paintings Borys was dismissed. 

“What idiots,” thought Borys, “Can’t they see that some of these guys are holding their instruments backwards?" 

Charles the butler had organized the orchestra. Nigel had no idea that the orchestra was completely fake. He rarely took notice of his gardeners, and in his mind, his orchestra was critically-acclaimed. Little did he know that Charles had simply paid off the critics, judges, and other orchestras with free vacations to the Caribbean. 

Charles had paid for Borys’s silence when he first hired the middle-aged Ukrainian. Borys knew he had to do the deed anonymously. He picked up a napkin, a pen, and began writing about Charles’ misdeeds in broken English. Before he could finish, Borys felt a sting in the side of his neck. Paralysis promptly followed. 

The party was still engulfed by the gardeners' performance, and had now moved on to drinking the absinthe. Suddenly, a body came plunging down from the rafters. Before it could hit the ground, a rope around the neck of the cadaver violently caught the body. There was a crack and a strain from the rope, and the body began to slowly spin in circles. The orchestra stopped. The music did not--but no one took notice.
Members of the audience gasped. Someone shut off the playlist. The interior designer was the first to speak.

“Nigel! You are a GENIUS!”

“This is just like--” began one of the guests.

“Phantom of the Opera!” cried out another.

“I can’t believe you were able to replicate it so accurately! Which one of your elephants thought of this?! I can’t believe they got the mold to look so human-like!”

“Phantom of the Opera!” spat out the conductor spasmodically to his orchestra. 

The orchestra rapidly rustled their gardening magazines and the music resumed, filling the room with the familiar theme. Nigel looked at Charles with a face of confusion. The butler tried to hide a grin. Nigel gave him a thumbs up. 

The party continued.