He is never late for choir practice. Even after being a chorister for over forty years, no one still knows what to make of him. It is not that he does not sing well. In fact, some say they only come to service to hear him sing. He is also not one to miss in a crowd. People seem to like him for reasons they choose. And it looks as if he enjoys all the attention. The dramatics that complement his voice is ever dynamic. Even now in his mid-fifties, he is still as much the enigma many concede he is, sometimes the butt of jokes, other times the human conundrum, inspiring quest and quandary in equal measure.
At age ten when he first joined the choir, many said that his voice would break. The thinness alone, not to mention its tendency to be out of step with the rest even once made the preacher whine about worshippers being unmindful of his sermons. No one complains though that he makes many especially the youths come more often to worship. And because everyone agrees he pulls crowd even more than the cleric does, he sits in the wrong place for his voice, where he is in full view of an adoring congregation.
The baritone the choirmaster predicted has not come. In fact, his voice seems to be thinner than ever, which contrasts with his obese frame but does not belie his cherubic face. He sits next to members his age when he joined the choir. It is easy to see the discomfort they bear squeezed in by this massive man. This is even more so when he starts to wriggle ecstatically even if hardly in tandem with the melody. Even if only momentarily, some openly crave his popularity, others petrified by his peculiarity.
Yet, he is friendly beyond measure, many declare, often seemingly going out of his way to prove it. He says he likes to bake, which many say does not coincide with his professed love for nothing but to sing. He also seems to like to eat, which again is hardly in keeping with his stated goal of losing weight. Sometimes he says he is scared to lose his fame, which he claims his voice sustains. He often says his voice would go opposite where his weight does. Indeed, he has been seen at events wolfing down incredible amounts of food, as he claims, to keep his voice in peak form.
He says he lives alone with his dog. He tells people he is not going to marry again. No one seems to have ever seen the wife he says died many years back. He talks about her being his spiritual companion even now. He claims that he is staying single because of his love for his deceased wife. Many doubt him and openly regard this as another reason he needs professional help. He though scoffs off any such suggestion.
Some of his neighbours are often out in the yard until late in the evening to watch him sing and dance. He likes to say he does not walk his dog, but dance with it. Indeed, every evening at about six, he comes out and dances in his yard with his dog. It must seem weird to the uninitiated to see him and his dog engage in this ritual. Some say he is mystic. Some even allege that they hear conversations in his house in the middle of the night.
No one visits him. In fact, no one seems to know his relatives. He claims that his adoptive parent passed away when he was nine, since when he says he has been fending for himself. He still lives in a house whose owner, a long-term widower, died the year before he joined the choir, and who people say never said that he had any child living with him then.
Even the dog is fodder for talk. People speculate on its breed and its cerulean coat. They also wonder out loud when it got on the scene. And it dances. Many say it is the only dog they know that does that. He calls it Flaky. It is only seen at night. He says its eyes are sensitive to light. Even as it dances, it appears melancholic. It never barks. And its skin, like its owner’s, flakes.
It rocks, struts, and hops. It is able to do his swivels, both often seen in a ghoulish stomp in consonance with what many call his creepy shriek. The ritual is the same in the over five years it started. First it is along the yard’s rectangular edge. It then proceeds from its entrance in little interlocking circles across it length. Typically it ends in an escalating tempo peaking in a crescendo. What happens next is akin to being catapulted back to earth. The thud is even louder than the stomp. Then there is silence. Both clearly exhausted then limp back inside the house.
Why he does not receive visitors no one seems to know. Besides some of his neighbours who peep through his fence to watch the twilight dance, his other show seems reserved for two, an enduring nuptial rite it seems upon which they thrive. There is even talk that it does not happen. Some say they have never witnessed him dancing with his dog. Some even say he does not have a dog, and that he only exists when seen. Yet, they all say they peep to see.
The debate he often generates aside, everyone agrees that there is something strange about his voice. They say it is unique and mesmerizes. They say it is sometimes scary, yet alluring. Some even say it is celestial, and that it reminds them of their transience. What seems even more enthralling many say is the quixotic way he seems to move when he dances. There is also consensus that the motion even if asynchronous with the tune seems to haul everyone in and out of an ecstatic frenzy until he stops to sing.
They also concur that he is possibly existent but probably as existent as he is non-existent. In fact, many confess to being wary of transitioning back and forth with him, just in case they never exist again. Some even wonder if he is really, nothing, when he abruptly stops showing up for service, and both the man and his dog are never seen again.
