Onedismus (on-e-dis’-mus): Reproaching someone for being impious or ungrateful.
“I do more for you than God, and all you do is complain. You’ve been wearing those pajamas for two weeks—they smell like a kitty litter box that needs cleaning. You’re not sick. You’re not injured. Why the hell don’t you put on some clothes and go look for a job?” “You’re no role model either,” I yelled. Her bathrobe looked like a feed lot for monkeys—there were ants crawling down one of the sleeves and cigarette burns on the lapels. Her hair looked like tossed pasta. But God—her figure was to die for. When she opened her robe I went berserk, lunging across the kitchen floor like a raging buck. She smelled like cigarettes, feta cheese, and her kisses tasted like Maalox. She pushed me away and said “Get a job and you’ll get what you want.” Finally, she offered an incentive that would get me out the door.
I took a quick shower and put on some clothes that were way too tight due to my stay-at-home sabbatical—no exercise, eating and drinking too much. I combed my hair and headed down the street to CVS to get a newspaper. I got home and sat at the kitchen table perusing the want ads. I had a Master’s degree in “General Studies,” from an on-line university in Australia. I was ready for anything “in general.”
I couldn’t believe it! There was an ad that read, “Wanted. Man or Woman prepared to do anything in general. Call: 800-231-5673. Mention this ad and ask for Abaddon Acheron.” I immediately called the number. Abaddon himself answered the phone. He asked me if I had a conscience. I told him “not much.” “Good. Perfect” he answered. “You’re hired. Starting salary is $200,000 per year, with benefits, including a 401K pension plan. One of my minions will pick you up at home tomorrow morning at 9:00 sharp. Don’t worry, we know where you live.” When he said a “minion” would pick me up, I got little nervous. But what the hell. Even though she wouldn’t take her bathrobe off, I had a great time with my wife that night. I had a job even if I didn’t know what it was.
The minion picked me up right on time. He looked normal, except one of his sideburns was missing. I figured it was some kind of fashion statement. We settled into the limo and took off. We pulled up at a landfill and drove into a tunnel in the side of a mountain of trash. There were armed guards all along the tunnel. We stopped in front of an elevator door, got out, and the minion pressed the button marked zero. When we got to zero, we were met by Abaddon. He kept going in and out of focus as we made our way to his office. He said, “if you’ve done your research you know that our company, “Infinite Misfortune” specializes in the manufacture of woe. Your position is that of Pet Killer. Your job is to eliminate peoples’ beloved pets by running them over, poisoning them, and even shooting them. You will be a major nexus of woe, second only to our corps of killers who put an end to peoples’ lives, causing the worst woe possible. I thought, “So, this is what a master’s in General Studies got me. Pet killer.”
I was immediately sent out on assignment—a three-person family who had just gotten their little boy a puppy. I was posing as a representative of Purina Puppy Chow. The family had “won” a bag of puppy chow. it had been poisoned by a technician back at Ft. Landfill.
The family was delighted. I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t do it. I grabbed the bag of puppy chow and took off rinning. I dumped out the puppy chow and kept running. I looked back and there was a woman with three Chihuahuas on leashes. They had started eating the poisoned dog food off the sidewalk.. “Too late for them,” I thought as I started crying. Abaddon popped out of a sewer grate and yelled “You’re fired!”
When I got home I called the police. They told me to “shut up” and leave them alone. So I did. To keep my wife happy and willing I got another job: school crossing guard. Every time a kid got run over on my watch, I thought of “Infinite Misfortune” and the great pension plan I could’ve had.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.ed).
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