Homoioteleuton


Homoioteleuton (ho-mee-o-te-loot’-on): Similarity of endings of adjacent or parallel words.


NOTES FOUND IN A BANK VAULT

The door swung open, and I was finished coping, remaining calm and affecting aplomb in the face of the collective rancor of my employees. It was Christmas Day and they were working as I had dictated. But now, they had decided to give me a chance to let them go home. Rob Ratchet stepped out in front of the mob. He was a commie sympathizer who actually believed that employees had “rights.” “Let us be with our families on Christmas Day,” he whined. The mass of losers behind him started chanting “family at Christmas, family at Christmas,” inching toward me with clenched fists. I called my pal Elon and asked him what to do. He said “Fire them all Scooge. They’re all commies. They’ll pick your pockets and set up a day care center. The next thing you know, you’ll lose a billion dollars and look like fool. Marla will never marry a weak man!”

They were coming toward me arm-in-arm, still chanting. “Go ahead and ruin your lives you fools. You’re all fired!” I yelled as I locked myself in the bank’s vault. I would be safe and I would hire new employees the next day. There were plenty of spare unemployed people around who I could scoop up for $5.00 per day. Maybe this incident could benefit me. The profit margin would increase. I would be richer. Soon I would purchase a Tesla from my buddy Elon, at a “Good Friend” 25% discount.

It sounded like things had quieted down outside. I put my ear to the vault’s door—nothing. It was time to go. I tried 10 different combinations, but none of them worked, in fact, on my 12th try, the vault made a beeping sound and clicked loudly. It was the security override that rendered the lock inoperable for three days. I picked up the receiver to the emergency phone, and it was dead. I knew it was that damn commie Ratchet who had knocked it out. My cell phone wouldn’t work either—another regrettable security decision. There was nothing I could do except wait for three days, but even if I did, if I couldn’t remember the combination, I was still screwed. Fat chance, that Ratchet would let me out. I had fired him on Christmas Day. I never should’ve listened to Musk. He’s a monster. Then, I yelled “Let me the hell out of here!”

There was a flash of light and a loud farting sound that lasted a full 15-seconds. A live garden gnome about 7-feet tall suddenly appeared. I am Gil, your guardian garden gnome. I can knock down that door with one big gnome kick. I started crying and said “yes, yes, oh please, yes!” The gnome asked, “Do you know the sickly teller Tiny Slim? He will die without a job and the health insurance benefit it affords. He, like all your workers need a 25% pay raise just to properly feed, house and clothe their families.” I was adamant: “No, no, no! I am a man of business, not a clergyman!” The giant garden gnome disappeared with a lengthy fart and a flash of light. Somebody will save me, I thought.

Nobody did.

POSTSCRIPT

After complaints from customers, the bank was reopened, so was the vault. It had to be opened by 3 shaped charges of C-4. When the door blew open Scooge’s rotting corpse raised a smell. It prompted the emergency team to return to their truck for gas masks. When they got back to the vault, they rolled Scooge over. They were surprised to see a handful of 100 dollar bills hanging from his mouth. Evidently, starving, he tried to eat the money and choked to death on it.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)

Selections from The Daily Trope are available as a book under the title of The Book of Tropes.

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