Zing and Zang had wandered all over Rome and Florence. They marveled at the sculptures and paintings they saw. No artists lived on Zukor, their home planet. All were scientists or government employees.
They journied to Pisa to see the Leaning Tower. Teleporting was quickest; within seconds they stood on the grassy area surrounding the Tower.
Suddenly, Zang grabbed Zing, dragging him away. “It’s falling! The giant’s mouth is wide open! He’s yelling at everyone to get away! Oh, his eyes are terrible!”
“Zang, it’s been like this for hundreds of years. That’s not a ma. . . .”