Bea and Penny have formed an Opera Club. Its meetings tend to be impromptu: Bea suddenly meets Penny coming around a corner or Penny trots upstairs to find Bea stretched out on the bedroom floor. Then the singing begins! We have coloratura, we have arpeggios, we have leitmotifs, andâ€”of courseâ€”we have diva-histrionics galore.
The other night, even my neighbors were out to hear the Opera Club. Unfortunately, the concert was abruptly cancelled due to artistic differences.
I have suggested to Bea and Penny that perhaps a nice folk music sing-along would be easier to manage than all those arias, but they just glared at me with eyes that knew me for the cretin I am.
“You could try Kum By Ya,” I offered.
“Loser!,” said Bea.
“Boring!,” said Penny.
“That song’s for kittens who are too stupid to sing anything else!,” they both cried.
But later that evening, I caught Bea doing air guitar and singing to herself:
Penny’s breathing, Lord, strike her dead.
Penny’s breathing, Lord, strike her dead…