Metonymy

Metonymy (me-ton’-y-my): Reference to something or someone by naming one of its attributes. [This may include effects or any of the four Aristotelian causes {efficient/maker/inventor, material, formal/shape, final/purpose}.]

“Pipe Cleaner” was a friend of mine when I was a kid. He made amazing things out of pipe cleaners, so I called him “Pipe Cleaner.” It all started in the second grade, when, after carving swans out of bars of soap, we moved on to pipe cleaners. Miss Moodie told us that twisting cotton-covered wire built character, the same reason for carving soap bars into swans.

Our first project was to make a pony. I watched Miss Moodie make one, and tried to imitate hers. My pony only had three legs and no tail. William’s (aka Pipe Cleaner’s) was beautiful. He had taken 25 packs of pipe cleaners to make a two-foot tall pony with a mane and tail that looked like it was blowing in wind behind the galloping horse. He named the horse “Cheeto.” All the kids went crazy. Miss Moody slumped down behind her desk and fanned herself. She said, “Nap time boys and girls.” We got out our rugs and laid down—too excited by William’s accomplishment to sleep. We just lay there on our backs, with our eyes closed imagining William’s galloping horse. I could hear hoofbeats in our little classroom. It was weird.

The next day Miss Moodie gave us an “advanced pipe cleaner project.” we were all excited and hoped that William would make something amazing again. We were instructed to make whatever we wanted. I made a coaster. It was round and flat. It looked like a hairy pancake. Nobody liked it. William had outdone himself—he had made a Miss Moodie doll. It was unmistakably Miss Moodie, down to the teacher-bun hairdo and weird lace-up shoes with heels like sawed-off broomsticks. We all just stood there and looked at the pipe-cleaner Miss Moodie. William Said, “Watch this” and tickled pipe-cleaner Miss Moody under her arm with a single pipe cleaner. Miss Moodie giggled and told William to “Stop it! Right now!” We all stood there with our mouths hanging open while William kept on tickling Miss Moodie. She was out of breath from giggling and looked like she was going to be sick.

I wrestled William to the floor, and I let him up, and he handcuffed me with pipe cleaner handcuffs. Clearly, William had gone around the bend, but his pipe cleaner feats were sheer genius. He tickled Miss Moodie one more time and ran out the door, stealing the remaining pipe-cleaners from our classroom.

Miss Moodie recovered and stood up behind her desk. She said, “Boys and girls, what you witnessed here today was strange but true. William made what is called in Florida or Granada or someplace like that a “Voodoo Doll.” It is dangerous. You all saw what happened to me. I lost control and giggled. I was embarrassed. William’s family come from Haiti and may not know the ins and outs of being American. I will call them tonight.”

The next day Miss Moodie came to class wearing giant earrings, a beautiful blue dress with ruffles around the shoulders and what looked like a red turban, sandals, and a small bag of something hanging around her neck. She said “bon matin” when she entered the classroom. Her eyes were a little glazed, but beside that, and her beautiful clothes, she looked normal. She told us she was going to be roommates with William’s family and she was going to learn the cultural “activities” of walking on burning embers and “sniffing out Zombies.” Two weeks later, she was gone. William wouldn’t say anything about it and our new teacher was not much older than us. She was stern, but William took care of that with a pipe-cleaner “Loosen Up” amulet that he gave her as a welcome gift.

As time went by, I realized that William was gifted. What he could do with pipe cleaners was magic. As our friendship endured over the years, he became better and better at creating pipe cleaner manifestations. He said the voodoo thing was low-budget and he was still ashamed with what he had done to Miss Moodie. He had stopped practicing voodoo—no more tickling or raising the dead, or anything like that.

He put some kind of spell on his pipe-cleaner creations so the pipe cleaners blended so well with the objects they manifest they were undetectable. William made an 11-room mansion out of pipe cleaners and gave it to his parents. He made me a VW bug for my high school graduation. Finally, he made “iron” lungs for kids who had contracted polio. William was truly amazing. I asked him on day: “Whatever happened to Miss Moodie?” He told me simply: “She walks the night.”

Definition courtesy of “Sliva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

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