Spousal revenge is tantalizing and sweet when it is done in jest and humour.
Now come, every single one of you with a partner, or who ever had a partner, might deny it, but I’m betting that perfect little but rarezinger you sometimes switchblade out with lightning speed is probably right up there with one of your favourite memories.
Those zingers of which I speak, are meant in pure playfulness and should never, ever, no matter how well crafted and well-intentioned,hurt another’s soul. After that, it’s all open season in this household.
When I get zinged by King Zinger it is proper etiquette, in fact, to laugh like crazy, give him his moment in the sun, and let him revel inthe syrupy sweet victory.
I could name a few of them, but that is for his telling. They are always better when the zinger gets to tell the story.
There are a couple of those zingers which never fail to bring me to a good, bawdy and hearty laugh. Now, my mother who was quite ademure lady no matter what the circumstances, had the rules down pat. There were some things you just didn’t laugh about, and forgoodness sakes, there were some pranks you just didn’t pull no matter how tempting or tantalizing the contemplation of letting thewhole ball of wax fly.
The best zingers though, in my opinion, are those which are not planned. I remember one when King Zinger and I were in Arizona, goingthrough a car wash. Let’s just say it was one of those accidental (I swear it was!) zingers of which ladies say they never do. It’s a kind ofpull-my-finger-kind of zinger, except by pure accident my husband was effectively tied down under the blistering sun waiting for thevultures to come and pick out his eyes. Use your imagination folks. Had it not have been a car wash running at full speed with waterblasting all around us, I am sure he wouldn’t have been cursing quite as loudly or quite as much for without a doubt he would have hadthose windows rolled all the way down.
Which leads me up to this little prank I have planned. King Zinger despises all things Betty Boop. I, of course, have had a gal palrelationship with her ever since I first spied her on a bamboo cane at a carnival. Yes, that one-armed Betty. (Don’t ask me how thathappened. I loved her despite that missing limb.) King Zinger, being the macho kind of guy that he is let me know in no uncertain termsthat my friend Betty was not welcome in our home no matter how much I cried and pleaded.
I knew the rules and I knew it was best to let that dream go. But King Zinger has a long-time friend, let’s call him Kevin, who had awonderful idea. As soon as he heard of King Zinger’s deep aversion to Betty, he bought me a Betty Boop item for Christmas with the firmwarning that should she go missing, or should she have a sudden demise, there would be more coming. He would make sure of that. KingZinger knew better than to doubt him.
That is when I learned the true depth of King Zinger’s disdain for the Lady in Red.
The other day, after a particularly rough road of health, I looked up at my husband, and asked him in the most sweetest, nicest way, if hewould mind me taking over a bit of the house to make all mine. I waited, hardly daring to breathe, hoping that I had carefully lured himinto the wicked plan I had finely crafted.
Feigning nonchalance, I looked up at my husband from behind lowered eyelashes and coughed a sickly kind of helpless cough. Aha! Mr.King Zinger was caught hook line and sinker. King Kindness, for that moment, kicked King Zinger out of the house and bravely answered,“Oh sure. Why not?” The cavalier, swashbuckler, just had no idea what he did. None whatsoever.
I won’t come right out and tell you about my personal thoughts on what my girl cave will look like, but I will give you some clues.
The colour scheme will be cherry red, with white and red accents. There will be plenty of feathers, sequins, beads and anything that evenhints at Boopness. Yes, I know that as a loving partner in a relationship I need to somehow acknowledge to him that I had him in mindwhile planning.
So ladies, what do you think of this: I plan on going to the junk yard and buying a brake pedal which I will then cover in Boop glitz andstickers. Maybe I will even hang a Boop steering wheel so when he is in the King’s seat he can make those vroom vroom noises that guysare never tired of making no matter how old they are. I need to stop this. The visual is just about to kill me.
What do you think? And speaking of the king’s seat, I think there are even nice, plush Betty Boop seats made especially for the bathroom –which, I guess you have figured out by now, is where Betty Boop will reside in our home.
Well, sorry to go, but I have to start gathering up my supplies.