As I related yesterday, the distant neighbor’s loud party was celebrated without a hitch. It ended two hours after midnight, about 22 hours ago. I was still online so I heard the last strains of the final song before I slept.
Six hours later when I woke up, I had no idea that something happened before the party ended. While I trimmed the rows of suntan plants near the fence, my kumpare stopped by and relayed the freshest news from the village center.
“Do you know that three friends, drunk if I may add, nearly got into a fist fight early this morning?”
“Perhaps, they wanted to practice drunken boxing,” I joked, the image of Jacky Chan crossed my mind. “It’s not far fetched, you know.”
“That’s not it. They fought over the microphone.”
“So, that’s why the song was cut short,” I revealed. “I thought no one was left standing.”
“What was the song?” my kumpare asked, trying to confirm the information he heard.
“My Way,” I replied without a doubt. The song would never be absent in any karaoke session.
“There was scuffle between them. The house owner had to turn off the sound system to stop their fight.”
“Why not just play the song three times, in succession, so they could have equal chances?”
“Each one wanted to go first.”
Yeah, that was possible. History proved that the song was a notorious killer: heated arguments, similar to the one we discussed, resulted to deaths. It was fortunate the three were not added to the statistic.
“You know, drunkards. They lose their diplomatic sense when too much alcohol dilutes lucid reasoning,” my kumapre spoke through experience, though he himself was not of a similar attitude when inebriated.
“Where are they now? Were they apprehended by the village civilian guards?”
“You won’t probably believe this?” my kumpare shook his head.
“Oh, yes, I can.” I averred. “I have been living here for too long that the inexplicable that often defies explanation can be a reality.”
“When I passed the corner store a few minutes ago, I saw the trio eating together as if nothing happened. They were laughing their hearts out.”
“I’m not surprised at all,” I remarked. “We can be too shallow sometimes.”