Okay, 25 years ago our grandfather, who was not renowned for his giddy sense of humor, was given the task of putting the pink peacock ornament on the top of our Christmas tree.
The peacock, many years after the events in question.
The two of us, 6 and 8 years old at the time, were especially eager to see the tree finished off with its sparkly pink topper, but our grandfather was in no rush. We bothered at him to hurry up, but he told us the peacock needed to warm up first. He then proceeded, presumably as the peacock, to sing songs from Carmen (from what we learned about him as adults, we can only assume this came from our grandfather probably just having those tunes stuck indelibly in his head at the time), but with lyrics that only a 6- and 8-year-old could find hilarious:
I’ll tell you how
To kill Mr. Cow
And, creating even more of an impression of brilliant comedic stylings on us:
I lost my shirt
I lost my shirt
I won’t be happy til I find my shirt
Other than the fact that we have argued about which childhood home we were living in at the time of this particular Christmas, we both remember the Carmen-singing peacock vividly.
So, fast-forward to present-day, on a lazy, listless evening watching a game on the Ducks broadcast. When a commercial for an Andrea Bocelli concert and his upcoming Christmas album comes on, we have this exchange:
Pookie: Getzi can’t wait for this concert.
Schnookie: Yeah. He’s like, [in her Getzi voice] “I love opera singers who don’t put any emotion or meaning into the songs they sing. I like opera singers who just belt.”
Schnookie: That’s how Getzi sings. He has the voice of an angel.
Pookie: [Completely cracking up, singing in her Getzi voice] “I lost my shirt/I lost my shirt/I won’t be happy til I find my shirt!”
[We both collapse in hysterical laughter.]
Pookie: And THAT is bringing it home. It only took 25 years, but it was worth it.
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