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Sandy didn’t want to come to Karaoke night at Madison’s Boats and Bait. Of all the places to have random people sing, of course, the boat shop would be one of them. Her boyfriend, Eric, always came here. He was the boat fanatic. She wasn’t. They were dressed way to formal for an event like this. Half of them were men in clothing soaked with saltwater. Only about ten people were there, which was to be expected. Eric rushed to the sign up booth to register for some karaoke.

“Come on, Sandy,” Eric said. “Don’t you want to see your awesome husband sing Get Lucky in front of his adoring fans?”

“Only for you,” Sandy replied, humoring him as much as possible.

Eric went to wait in line. One man was singing a near ear-splitting rendition of Alicia Keys’ hit, If I Ain’t Got You. She rolled her eyes. At least try to make an effort, she thought to herself. How was she roped into coming. Probably to keep her husband happy but certainly not to watch tone deaf singers belt out hits like a cheap dollar store toy.

“Wish me luck, Sandy!” Eric said.

“Sure thing. I’m gonna grab some food.”

Of course what they had were trays of chicken, pasta, salads, all barely tolerable in appearance and about as average as one would expect in a place like this. Probably grabbed some orders from the local deli, at least Sandy assumed as much. Next to her was a woman who appeared to have one cigarettes too many. Her skin aged her twenty years older than she actually was.

And there was Eric’s singing. Sandy didn’t care, but it was better on the ears than the last one. Sure enough, it was indeed Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams’s hit, Get Lucky. Not too bad, but anyone could have done a better job.

“Sheesh, the talent here sucks,” the woman beside her said.

“Tell me about it,” Sandy replied, grabbing some pasta and mashed potatoes. “Least my husband is an improvement.”

“Please, he sounds just as crappy as the rest of them.”

“Why don’t you go up there then?”

What was this woman’s problem, Sandy thought. The woman shook her head and left. Sandy, with a spoon in her mouth, sighed, and suddenly, an ear piercing ring echoed throughout the open parking lot. Al eyes were upon Sandy, who had no idea what had happened or why everyone was staring at her.

“S-Sorry?”

Everyone went back to their normal business. Singing and having a decent time. She heard the ringing inside her mouth. This spoon was an ordinary, cheap, plastic spoon. Nothing special. Then the gears turned, the lightbulb flashing.

She left the food on the table and headed over to the booth to sign up for karaoke.

“Sandy DiMateo,” she said. “Oh, and I’d like to sign one more up.

Once all the details were approved, she waited for Eric to finish. He waved to her.

“Please welcome, my loving wife, Sandy!”

The crowd applauded. Sandy went up with her spoon in hand. She stood in front of the mic. What was she thinking? Sure there were only ten people and voice quality was moot, but to have stage fright in spite of that…

Then she glanced at the spoon. This magical spoon that felt like a microphone. That was the key. She then knocked the regular microphone aside. Gasps erupted across the parking lot. Sandy held the spoon up to her mouth.

“Are you ready to rock?!” She said, her voice echoing somehow.

The crowd cheered. Sandy has no idea what she had done. A magical, plastic spoon capable of creating stadium-quality vocals unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was perfect.

“Play me some Pat Benatar over there!” Sandy said.

Then, Hit Me With Your Best Shot played, and she went at it. Her voice echoing like the chorus of a thousand angels. She felt like Pat Benatar. No. In that moment, she WAS Pat Benatar. Standing to a crowd of millions, rocking to the biggest hits of the 1980s.

Sandy, an ordinary woman with a magical spoon, capable of belting out power ballads in stunning fashion. As quickly as it began, the song ended. The crowd clapped and cheered, demanding an encore. She propped the real mic up again, apologizing for knocking it down. Eric eagerly waited for her.

“That…That was amazing!” he said. “I had no idea!”

“Yeah, neither had I.”

“You should tour the town. Think of how famous you’d be.”

With her unique talent, she would be the biggest rock star ever. The smoker from before came over and snatched the spoon from her and stormed to the karaoke tent.

“Alright!” She said in a raspy voice. “Time for an old favorite.”

She held the spoon to her mouth and sang…something. No one had heard of it. It sounded like a word salad gone wrong. Plus the spoon itself wasn’t magical at all, considering that no one could hear her over the muttering crowd. Then one of the boat engines revved. A salesperson wanted to offer a demonstration. The perfect backdrop for a karmic performance. The crowds echoing boos were music to my ears.

Now that was an encore.