Welcome Dear Readers! It’s Trifecta Story Day! Today we are asked to use the third definition of funk: 3 : SLUMP <an economic funk> <the team went into a funk>
Zingy Zanderlini’s Meteoric Downfall
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 less than 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.” He complained slipping into an insecure funk. “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 I could shoot you seventeen times in the heart , run over you with a steamroller, fold you into thirds, stick you in an No. 9 envelope and mail you to Hell, Fred.”
“See, 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, 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 firy 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