My parents named me Zanni, for the clowns in commedia dell’arte. They didn’t want to name me Cyrano, or Jimmy Durante or even Pinocchio (fortunately). And they didn’t want me confused with Steve Martin’s movie, Roxanne. But they wanted to remind me that I was a clown, a misfit, a character to be joked at and even scorned…and not just because of my powers.
By now you may suspect why my name is Zanni or at least what led my beloved parents to saddle me with that moniker for life. I have a large nose, and the Zanni clowns from the theater of commedia dell’arte were known for their long noses (although in their cases, they wore masks onstage). In fact the longer their nose, the stupider the characters were, and my parents found that hilarious when I was born. They love to tell the story of how it took ten contractions for my nose to pop out and two for the rest of me. Great role models. Don’t be surprised when you see how that turned me into the wonderful person I am today.
But my nose is only one side of me. Granted, it’s a large side that invariably arouses jokes and zingers from those bold enough to speak openly. Everyone else just moves to the other side of the street where there’s more room.
But there’s another side of me, one you cannot see but you do need to take caution about. Put simply; I can move things, stop things, make things do what they weren’t meant to do, even destroy them outright. Pissed off at an obnoxious driver and want to flatten their tires? I can do that. Need someone to fall off a ladder at work? I can do that, too. Need a bullet redirected to kill someone else? I’ve done that.
I am a telekinetic. I was born with this ability (curse or gift, you decide). It’s very powerful and, no, it does not weaken me when I use it nor does my nose bleed, which is a good thing given the size of the gusher that would pour out. More specifically, and I really like this one, I am a Ballistic Telekinetic. Sounds dangerous, right? I am.
This type of havoc telekinesis is often considered to be something out of control, brought on by extreme danger or stress that lashes out at anything or anyone who is close by. The black sheep in the telekinesis family if you will.
And that is absolute rubbish, pontificated by those who think they know something about psychic powers but couldn’t move a paper cup on a windy day down a super-slide. I’m here to tell you, as someone who has this power, that I am always in control and that when I lash out it is very deliberate and controlled. Sure, most of the times I’m pissed off at the world but, like everyone else, I have every right to be that way. The problem with me is that I can do some nasty things to you if you get on the wrong side of me, and that doesn’t take much.
However, what I cannot do is have any effect on living things. People, animals, even sharks and snakes (the slithering kind) are impervious to my touch. If you draw a breath, you get nothing from me. But if you’ve stopped breathing then you’ve become a lifeless clump of clay, and I can do with you what I will. I won’t though; it’s kind of gross.
Oh, by the way, I can be killed. My honker and I seem to attract all manner of expletives, gestures, and attempts to end our smell on earth.