Zingy Zanderlini’s Meteoric Downfall
Mrs. Zingy Zanderlini worshiped Harry Houdini. But then the tables of Zingy’s heart were always reserved for any man who wore a cape, carried a magic wand and could wiggle out of a straight jacket while handcuffed underwater in a minute and a half.
Zingy’s husband, Fred, a musician, wasn’t happy with his wife’s fondness for magicians. “I’m sorry I can only play pianos, Zingy, and not make them disappear like Houdini does,” Fred complained, “Maybe you’d like me better if I played the piano dangling upside down by one foot?”
“Yes actually I would!” Zingy replied.
“You didn’t have to answer that Zingy. It was just a rhetorical question.”
“I’m so sick of your rhetorical questions, Fred, I could run over you with a steamroller, fold you into thirds, stick you in an No. 9 envelope and mail you to Hell.”
“When you say stuff like that, Zingy, I sort of feel like you don’t love me that much.” Suddenly Fred grabbed Zingy by the shoulders and shook her hard. “If you hate me so much why did you marry me, Zingy? Why? Answer me!”
“Alright Fred! I will answer you. I married you because when you told me you were a musician, I thought you said you were a magician. Okay? That’s the only reason I married you. It was a mistake. A big, horrible, ugly mistake that you can never make disappear, Fred, never! Because you can’t make anything disappear.”
Fred couldn’t look at Zingy anymore. He stared out the window and into the clouds where a firey ball had just emerged, heading right for their house.
* * *
“Yes that’s right, officer,” Fred said shifting his position in the rubble. “The meteorite came right though the window, landed on my wife, and she simply disappeared, ” Fred explained with not as much irony in his voice as one might imagine.
Until next time . . . I love you
Linda Vernon Humor 
such a sorry relationship, at least there’s happiness now!
Yes, it all turned out okay in the end.
I wish he would have leaned a little more toward the irony. Too bad about the house. Maybe he can make it reappear–without Zingy inside.
OMG. You wrote this comment on November 27 or last year! LOL! Thank you Russell. Happy Last Year Thanksgiving!
You always love us until next time, but – what then ? Will you not love us after one of these next times ? Was it something I thought ? Or, rather, will think ?
Are you by any chance an attorney?
Is an Anthony close enough ? I’m not, but I’m trying to work with you here. Not esquire, but often a square. (You weren’t planning on suing me, were you ? Please let me collect my thoughts, and keep my collection..)
Alright I’ll let you off the hook this time an Anthony. I’ll promise not to sue you if you promise to keep your thought collection dusted.
Thank you. You unhooking me makes me feel like a fish set free. Out of the water and can’t breathe, but free.
Not speaking of which, I’ve heard it said that there’s no place like Nome, but East Nome looks very similar, although they do have a large Wal-rusmart, and an Inuit N Outuit Burger (where business is finally recovering after having been closed for 2 weeks by the Health Department, due to an infestation of Eskimice).
Should I do more dusting, or less ?
LOL. Now I’m going to have to make a trip to Nome just for a Inuit N Outuit Burger!! (Frankly,Eric, I only dust my collection of thoughts when I can feel dust bunnies in my synapses)
I used to raise dust bunnies, until they started growing into dust hairs (American species of European dust hares). Do you use a modern Dust Bunny Buster, or do you prefer to tickle your synapses with a feather duster ?
I’ve just been using cans of air. Or more precisely “air for hairs of a dust nature” But a synapse feather duster might be a good invention
Do you prefer Ronco’s Hair Air, or Wham-O’s Dust-Away-In-A-Can ? I’ve been feeling a bit stuffy, and could use a good mental decongestant.
I hear that there’s an excellent synapse feather duster with axon and dendrite attachments, but you have to get on a waiting list that is currently 134 years long. If you know the right people, you might get that down to 105 years. Only comes in one color though.
The color is Brain Gray, of course.
AKA, Grey Matter Gray.
Brain Gray . . . I had a color crayon in that color once. Trouble is there were no brains in my coloring book to color with it. Why would somebody do that? Why?
Why ? Are you sure you can handle the truth ? Money. Yep, the Coloring Book Cartel. They charge $27 for specialty pulps like The Big Coloring Book of Brains, Dora Explores Your Brain, and Brains, Brains, Brains. But NEVER in regular coloring books, as you experienced. As they say in embroidery society, it’s a crewel world. Especially when they say that …