For those of you who do not know, the Lycanthropic Teatime Ritual Children live somewhere nearby. I think they must know when I'm trying to write outside, because the neighborhood can be fairly quiet until five seconds after I fire up the word processor. I haven't actually seen them... but as a point in fact, I can hear one now, over the drone of a lawn mower, barking along with the trinity of lapdogs who live on the far corner of the block. (This only confirms my theory that they are in cahoots with our lawnmower and leaf-blower using neighbors.)
They earned their name after one occasion -- during which I was trying to write -- filled with blood-curdling shrieking, howling, and loud statements like, "I'm totally evil!", and I concluded that either:
- "The Ritual [Was] Complete" (which may or may not have involved naked Barbies versed in the Battle Magicks), or else;
- a bison or moose or some other large hoofed animal had been brought down -- and I wasn't ruling out lycanthropy.
Apparently, they have parties. Usually in the later half of the afternoon. I'm pretty sure there was an Honest to God tea party (with bubbles) at least once. I imagine there are snacks; there's definitely a lot of shrieking and recitatives--and too be honest, I'm thankful it's not the mating cry of "OMG! I am soooo drunk!"
But when one is trying to write dialog it can be distracting.
Back to the opera, the other day, there was a (thankfully) short solo by an aspiring coloratura soprano, something along the lines of perpetual, heartfelt, arpeggio. Kind of like,
"I I hi hi ha ha ham am / ha ah ah ah ah ah / am am am am mam / sooooooOOOO / (big gulp of air) EE-EE-EE-ee-ee EE-EE-ee-ee EE-EE-ee-ee / eeEEee / eeEEee / eeEEee / eeEEee / Ee-ee-ee ee-ee / EEEEEEEEEEEE-vil!"
Possibly she was rehearsing for the role of the Queen of the Werewolves.
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