“Zorro and Me,” a Tale of Being Ravished by Love

Dec 24, 2011 by


UPDATE | Dec. 24, 2011 | Albert re-recorded this sound file to fix a minor error, plus this podcast production of TheWebTheater.com introduces the channel’s program host, Peggy Desiree Nash.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Albert Perrone, singer-songwriter, Southern West Virginia wise guy and Official Citizen of WestVirginiaVille®, showed up at a recent music jam and read the following. It was something he was inspired to write in response to an e-mail out of the blue from a woman who once stole his heart. In 2nd grade. We reprint his touching, bruising tale below. Hear the author read the text in the podcast above.

By Albert Perrone

Dear Amy: Believe it or not, I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. I was madly in love with you. How’s that for starters? I have thought of you many times over the years because of the following account:


When I was in the second grade, my sister invited some of her girlfriends to our house for a slumber party. As always I wanted to play with everyone — you, Stacy, Jeannie, Barbara and maybe one or two more. You tolerated me for a while but then enough was enough. From upstairs, I heard you all giggling, my sister’s raucous laugh rising above the others.

The next morning I was up early. I sneaked down the stairs and watched you sleep. I thought there must be a way to get your attention. Deciding on a plan that would unquestionably do the trick, I went back upstairs to get ready.

My hero was Zorro. I failed art in school one marking period because Mr. Smalley did not like my drawings of Zorro dressed in black on his black horse, Toranado, on a black night with only a sliver of a yellow moon. I was Zorro on Halloween and in my dreams we were friends. I even made my Mom get me horseback riding lessons at Van Saun Park.

When I played by myself I used to listen to some music that reminded me of a toreador, which reminded me of Spain, which reminded me of Zorro. When I heard the right part in the music I would jump from the third step of the stairs onto the lower landing, making my entrance into the bull ring as Zorro.

I would use my black cape (a large mauve bath towel) to taunt the bull. After he made a pass or two at me, I would hold the towel by one corner and quickly rotate my forearm in a tight fast circle causing the towel to fan out with a flourish. When the bull was exhausted I would kill him with my foil and carve a “Z” in the fur on his side.

Occasionally, I would take a break and go to the big mirror on the upstairs landing and practice Guy Williams’ smile, saying words like torro, Toranado, hacienda, andale and Bernardo, making sure to roll my rrrrrs. Finally, satisfied with my imitation of Zorro’s accent, I would pause, stare into the mirror, summoning his spirit, bravado, skill, courage and cunning. When I felt just right, my intense stare would slowly change into his romantic smile and I would belly laugh with my hands on my hips.

When I heard voices from downstairs I ran to the bathroom, grabbed my towel and went down the stairs to the landing. I checked my stare and my smile in the mirror, then continued on down. I peered around the corner and there you were, standing in the most beautiful nightgown.

I said: “Hi Amy.”
You said: “Hi Allie.”
I said: “Watch this.”
You said: “OK.”

I disappeared, going up three steps, preparing for my grand leap into love as Zorro.

I jumped and landed, leaning over a bit too much and bounced forward, smashing my nose on the wall. I saw stars and burst into tears as my whole world collapsed into failure and humiliation.

So you see, I can never forget you.

Best wishes and hope for the future,


“The Only Song” by Albert Perrone
— “Why Art Can’t Hurt You” Video


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