Euche


Euche (yoo’-kay): A vow to keep a promise.


I made a promise, a vow, a deal, a bond, a projected future, an ironclad pledge, a guarantee, an oath, a commitment, and a covenant—all synonyms, all meaning more or less the same thing. You can trust me. I am as constant as the wind in Kansas, as faithful as the rising sun, as bound as a hostage, as stuck as a two-wheeled pickup truck in the mud.

I’ve been delivering fresh organs in little coolers since 1993. I’ve never lost one, or damaged one yet. Why, I took a lung from Phoenix, Arizona all the way to Tacoma. I took a heart from Newark, New Jersey all the way to Covina, California. I took a testicle from Dallas, Texas all the way to Donner’s Pass for the annual “Donner Party Cookout.” And I drove a belly button all the way from Brattleboro, Vermont to Chicago. No muss. No fuss. No spill. Just a slightly chilled human body part, ready for installation, ready to function, ready to save or improve a life. Soon, I’ll be crossing the New Mexico State line with your new eyeball in my little cooler. I should be in Bakersfield pretty soon.

Bad news. Last night while I was sleeping somebody stole my little cooler with your eyeball in it. I am very sorry, I had my door locked and double bolted. Anyway, your eyeball is being held hostage. The eyeball-napper wants $1,000 to return your eyeball. You have to wire the money to a “local bank if you ever want to see your eyeball.” I am in Cactus Needle, Arizona, Wire the money to “Saddle Pad Federal Credit Union.” Temp Acct: 1284s0. I will pick it up and pay the eyeball-napper. I am supposed to meet him on a lonely stretch of highway with the money.”

Ha ha ha! This is too easy! There’s no eyeball-napper! There’s just me on my way to the bank to pick up the one grand. I never tried this scam before, but I’m getting close to retirement and need some extra cash. I collected the cash and exit the bank. There were four police cars with lights flashing parked outside the bank. There were ten policemen aiming their service revolvers at me. There was one policeman with a bullhorn: “Stay where you are. You’re under arrest on a number charges—including fraudulent misappropriation of a harvested human organ, to wit, an eyeball. Drop the money.”

I’m in prison now. I got five years. When my fellow inmates learned I was a “human organ-napper” they were awe-struck and gave me the same rights and privileges as a serial killer. In my cell, I have fully stocked bar, a 70” flat screen TV, a vibrating recliner, Persian carpet, and a weekly visit from Darla, the sister of one of the guards.

What I don’t have is my freedom. I admit it was stupid to try and run the eyeball scam. I should’ve seen it coming, but hindsight is 20-20. I can see now how I screwed up. I didn’t keep focused. My eyes were clouded by greed. Oh well. Darla’s coming today, so things aren’t all bad.


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

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