The Sounds of Silence ... Maybe Not

It is a perfect summer evening and I am sitting at the keyboard writing and biding time. Why? Salem is a snug little city with history and cramped housing. As each dwelling is situated nearer to its neighboring home than, let's say, an outhouse to the main house, there is a distinct lack of distance and shrubs to deaden a whisper.

Now, comes my neighbor with the Hasbro karaoke entertainment center ... dials turned to the number 10 on all output channels. I suspect he fancies himself a late 60's rock star with a nibble at the 70's. The music raises in crescendo and this thin, flat voice rises from the din. Is that Freebird I hear?

I have shut all the windows on that side of the house in the hope of muffling the noise but despite my hermetic attempts, he is still beamed to my ears via the evening air. I don't begrudge his artistic sense, his strained vocal chords or his flat tone but I value my chi. His dog has now begun to yelp. Ah, he (my neighbor not the dog) has moved onto the mojo rising refrain of Jim Morrison.

Wait, there is a lull in this musical Tet offensive. Is he done? Shhhhh, it's quiet for the moment. Has he blown a fuse, forgotten the lyrics, received a threatening call from a less flexible neighbor? What else can be in store for this magical summer?