In every angel's life there comes a time when she just has to suck it up and go after what she wants. So that's exactly what I did. I finally formed the perfect union with my sizzle-hot boyfriend Thomas. Before that, I sort of accidentally formed a...
When the song was over, Skylar passed the microphone to my cousin Lanny and carefully took a seat behind a rickety drum kit that looked as if it was on its last legs. As usual, he looked sexy as hell. Like sex on a stick, with a voice that could make both sinners and angels cry. He stood out like an 80's rock icon from the four original members of the makeshift band that were each dressed in matching white T-shirts, cut off bib overalls so short they would make Daisy Duke blush, and wearing tall white tube socks that stuck out at the top of worn cowboy boots.
Thomas choked back a laugh, or attempted to anyway. "What are they wearing?"
I punched him in the arm. "That right there is what us Michiganders lovingly refer to as a Redneck Romper. I can whip one right up in a jiffy if ya like," I warned.
He looked positively petrified at the possibility. "Ah, no thanks."
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Lanny began playing a new song by speedily strumming on a banjo, while Skylar played the spoons. I recognized it immediately as a rousing, no-holds-barred, bluegrass version of "Thunderstruck" by none other than AC/DC. Arguably one of the best-known and most listened-to rock bands in the entire world, Lanny and the rest of the Blankenship's did the song mighty proud by turning it into their own personal version of good old-fashioned, knee-slapping, country-western hillbilly music.
"I'm not sure I recognize the instruments they're playing." Thomas paused to point. "What's that thing he's holding?"
"That's an accordion," I began, taking turns to direct his gaze toward each member of the band. "That big thing that looks like a giant cello is called a string bass. That tiny thing that looks like an acoustic guitar is called a mandolin and, of course, you have to know what a banjo is."
Thomas rolled his eyes at me. "Yes. I know what a banjo is. Thanks. But what's that thing called that the singers hitting? It's not a musical instrument."
"You mean, Lanny?"
Thomas nodded, clearly perplexed.
I grinned to myself. "Oh, that's easy. In my neck of the woods that's what we refer to as a doohickamathingymajiggerwhatchamacallit, and Lanny's hitting it with the end of a wrench to replicate the sound of a bell."
Carried away by the nostalgic sound of the music I'd grown up with, I got up out of my seat next to Thomas, grabbed a nearby fiddle, and rushed over to the stage to join in. Before I knew it, I was totally swept up in musical rapture. Bluegrass did that to me. Few people knew that this style of music actually caused insanity.
At least to me, anyway.
Fingers still tingling even when the song was over, I plopped down on the couch again. Lanny and the guys begged me to play another tune with them. I held up my hands. "Sorry fellas, I'm all fiddled out."
