Catachresis (kat-a-kree’-sis): The use of a word in a context that differs from its proper application. This figure is generally considered a vice; however, Quintilian defends its use as a way by which one adapts existing terms to applications where a proper term does not exist.
My baloney skin collection was almost complete. I needed a very rare 1822 Bavarian Dünner Schnitt. It was the thinnest baloney skin ever created. It was like a toe dancing Brown Recluse Spider reading “The Sorrows of Young Werther” on the dashboard of my car as I drove to the airport with my perfumed suitcase in the trunk. I was going to walk to Bavaria, but my therapist told me there was an ocean between here and there, so I would have to fly. Tupac Snitzel had an 1822 Bavarian Dünner Schnit. I would have it or die!
I shouldn’t have worn my orange jumpsuit to the airport. I was scrutinized like pus in a doctor’s office. The TSA woman found me attractive, taking me to a back room and touching me all over. It was not unpleasant, but I felt like a stick in the mud or a broken motor scooter gearbox, stuck in neutral like the color of my kitchen or my lawnmower’s gearbox.
I boarded my flight, I got to Germany! I went straight to Tupac Schnitzel Processed Meat Museum. He was wearing the rare 1822 Bavarian Dünner Schnit skin on his wrist like a Lance Armstrong “be Strong” bracelet, I offered him $1,000 for the bracelet. He laughed “Not for sale, Never for sale. Go away you fool.”
Suddenly, Tupac had a heart attack, hit the floor, and died. I tried to pull the bracelet off but I couldn’t do it. I went to the morgue and broke in that evening, found Tupac, and pulled and pulled and finally pulled off the bracelet. CCTV caught me and I was arrested at the airport. I was sentenced to 6 months for “tampering with the dead.” .
When I was released, I went straight home. After flying into Newark, I boarded a train and my wife met me at the Utica train station. She started beating on my chest and calling me “asshole.” She made me swear to get rid of my “dipshit” baloney skin collection. I agreed.
At my wife’s prompting, I put my collection on EBay for sale for $20.00. It sold immediately. It was bought by somebody named Oscar Meyer. I knew that was a fake name. I mailed the collection to “Oscar” and waited for my twenty dollars. It came two afternoons later. The envelope’s address seemed familiar.
Then I saw the front page of the Utica Observer Dispatch:
“Baloney Skin Collection Sells for 2.5 Million Dollars”
I wanted to ask my wife what she thought. I couldn’t find her anywhere. Then, I got a text message from her telling me she was the one who had bought my collection for $20.00, sold it for 2,5 million dollars, and moved to Canada.
I am a broken man.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.
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