Perclusio (per-clu’-si-o): A threat against someone, or something.
The note taped to my front door said: “If you don’t stop it, I will make you pay.” I tore the note off my door. I crumpled it up and went inside where I flattened it out again on the kitchen counter along with the five other identical notes I had received that week.
I had no idea as to what I was doing that would be so objectionable to somebody that they would make me “pay.” I mean, the wildest thing I did was to have a vegetable garden in my back yard. It was 5X5 feet and had zucchini, tomatoes, and yellow squash growing in it. How could a fresh tomato induce a threat? I was definitely missing something. So, I had one of those video surveillance cameras installed over my front door. Anybody walking up the sidewalk would trigger the camera, making it record.
I was excited when I got up the next morning. I opened my door and there was no note! The camera had acted as a deterrent! I linked my Bluetooth to the camera for the heck of it, to see if there was anything there. What I saw shocked me! There was a really big raccoon ferociously battling with a man in black wearing a torn balaclava. I went outside and there was blood on the sidewalk. It couldn’t have been the raccoon’s because his opponent had no weapon. I’d never heard of a raccoon killing a parson, so I figured my taunter was still alive.
It was near noon, so I headed to Food Manger to get some pre-made tuna salad for lunch . It had chopped pickles and onions in it, and I loved it. As I walked up to checkout, I was shocked to see that the bag boy Rod’s face was covered with superficial scratch marks. “Ah ha!” I thought. “So how did you get those scratches?” I asked like a policeman. Rod said he had tripped and fallen into a rose bush, where the thorns had given him “a pretty good scratching.” I asked him what kind of roses they were. He stuttered and muttered “I don’t know.” I asked, “Have you ever had a fight with a raccoon?” He laughed nervously and dropped the bag he was filling. I yelled, “Answer me before I find that raccoon and ask hm!” I don’t know why I said that—I was trying to sound tough. He said, “No, no, no!” Then he said, “Ok. Ok. You got me. You caught me. I’ve been putting the threatening notes on your door.” There was only one thing I wanted to know: “Why?”
He told his story: “I wanted to win the ‘Lightening Bagger Award.’ I wanted to be the fastest bagger so I ignored the the lower rack on the shopping carts. Part of my job is to hoist up what’s on the rack so the cashier can scan it. It could cut as many as 20 seconds off my bagging time by ignoring it. But I noticed you had caught on to what I was doing. You were piling prime cuts of beef on your cart’s bottom rack., whereas, it was supposed to be used for kitty litter, bags of charcoal or potatoes—things that wouldn’t fit in the cart. Clearly, piles of expensive cuts of meat would fit. You exploited me. I got angry and started writing the notes. I was going to make you pay for the meat if you didn’t stop jeopardizing my winning the ‘Lightening Bagger Award.’”
I was shocked—there he was, nice little Rod, standing there with scabs all over his face. The Food Manger Manager Joseph was standing there and heard the whole thing. He told Rod to get rabies shots—they would be covered by Food Manger’s health insurance plan.
Rod kept his job, but was put on five years probation, and moved to the back warehouse where he opens boxes of canned goods, monitored by CCTV. I am making restitution in lieu of serving an 18-month sentence in state prison. Rod was able to remember all the meat I pilfered—it’s like he’s some kind of grocery check-out idiot savant.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99. Available in Kindle formate for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 