Pfip! Ouch!


This zinging is getting out of hand. One of these days, Lazslo is going to miss and the rubber band will encroach into Nurse Ratched’s personal space, her coffee cup, like an MQ9 Reaper over Waziristan. Remember Nurse Ratched, the boss? Rectangular and flat like Saskatchewan?

Nurse Ratched is cold terror. You have to wear an arctic jacket if you’re standing next to her. She is a lot worse than the Taliban. How do you think Mullah Omar got that eye patch? Nurse R doesn’t smile. She definitely isn’t a sport. The only sport she plays is with her ball point, when she gives you a ‘D’ (needs improvement/re-orientation required/dispensable). She seems to have an invisible veil around her at all times. A sort of shroud, a cape. Looking at her, if you break into that Amar Akbar Anthony number ‘parda hai parda hai’, you really need ta visit a shrink. On rare occasions when she actually smiles, Nurse R’s lips twist and warp like those henchwomen of Satan in that Al Pacino movie, ‘The devil’s advocate’.

Oh, you forgot what zinging is, did you? I’ve written extensively on the subject in the past. Boy, do you have a short memoaree. Have you checked yoreself for Alzheimer’s lately? They do have pediatric Alzheimer’s these days you know.

For my valued friends who joined in late, zinging is a game which Kenny, Laszlo, Melanie and I play at work when Nurse R is away for the Friday morning meeting or when she is on vacation and some wimpy schmuck is temporarily in charge.

You have to have a stock of rubber bands to be able to enter as a participant. Take one end and stretch it over your index finger while holding onto the other end with your pinky and let go. It’ll zip away at a high subsonic speed and hit the sucker you aimed it at, with a stinging pfip! and maybe fall into his coffee cup. Lazslo is the undisputed champion. He can get into your coffee nine times out of ten. Imagine a rubber band from Lazslo’s greasy unwashed Hungarian fingers in your coffee and you’ll be having ‘greasy moka’. Hyak! (I giggled, couldn’t help it).

See what we do when we’re supposed to be here buildin’ jet engines for the F35? No wonder the damn fighter jet has cost overruns and probably won’t fly.

Zinging has many upsides though. It is an alternative lifestyle at work, creating harmony among colleagues, besides chuckles and titters. And as you are aware laughter is good as a stress reliever. Best of all, if there is an ars—le at your workplace whose head you’ve always wanted ta bash in, you could zing him instead. Remember, as long as there are workplaces, there will be ars—les, trust me on this.

But undoubtedly the best zinging story is of Lee Jing Pin and Edna in Receiving. One Friday, he zang, trying to hit me but the zong transited the air space above my cubicle without prior clearance and fell straight into Edna’s coffee cup some distance away.

Lee went over Edna to say sorry, but said instead,” I believe you have my rubber….can I have it back please?”

To which she replied without batting an eyelid,” Oh, I didn’t know they have reusable ones these days,” and the next thing you know, they were in love. Edna moved in with Lee and they had twins, Zing and Zang. What? Would I lie to ya?

Some terminologies now, so you can get into the spirit of it-

‘Zang’ is past immediate tense. ‘I zang Nurse R and lived to tell the tale’, for example. ‘Zung’ is past continuous tense. Gary has been zung a million times on his pecker by his wife, Tula, who is a practicing acupuncturist, in failed attempts to make it retain its torsional rigidity long enough for him to be able to put it in. And lastly, ‘zong’ is the rubber band itself.

No skin off my back but it is important to have yore grammar right, that’s all I’m sayin’. All right, all right, no need to be rude……miff.


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