Falsetto Song

I’ve always loved falsetto singers – those few male singers who can let their voices soar into the soprano range with the effortless throats of a songbird. I think my affection began when listening to Roy Orbison at an early age, marveling that he could effortlessly hit the highest of notes, then return to a throaty male growl without missing a beat.  Years later I was introduced to Hawaiian singers such as Israel K., and again marveled at their unfettered and joyfully soaring voices. I also learned of the castratos of early religious fame who sung in choirs.

But I never thought I would hear falsetto expertly rendered on my own property until The Peanut Gallery (a.k.a. Hubby) decided to avenge my yellowjacket attackers by pour gasoline in their garden hidey-hole and setting them alight.

Now, the thing you need to know about Jackets (besides their ground-nesting capabilities, recently uncovered by Moi when mowing the Back 40) is that they build their abodes with an ‘escape hatch’ a ways away from their main entrance, ‘just in case’.

TPG and I had viewed the same National Geographic and Animal Planet shows but apparently this key fact was lost in the lust for revenge.

TPG carefully chose his time – twilight, then Jackets are sluggish and have mostly returned home for the night – but not his attack attire (a terrycloth bathrobe).

He poured his cocktail of gasoline and oil mix into the Jacket entryway, stepped back, and dropped in a flaming match – and his falsetto song impressed the neighbors 3 acres away as an instant trail of flame zoomed at warp speed between his legs to the back exit of the Jacket next downhill, where the mix has quickly leaked.