Mesodiplosis (mes-o-dip-lo’-sis): Repetition of the same word or words in the middle of successive sentences.
I had won another free lotto ticket on my scratch off quest. Looking at the scratched off free lotto ticket bubbles brought me no joy. I felt like I was doomed to win free lotto ticket after free lotto ticket for all eternity. I wanted to win some money. Money! So, I kept buying lotto tickets and went for a two-week streak where I didn’t even win a free ticket. But, I persisted. I figured I had a few hundred dollars sunk in lotto tickets, with no return. Nothing. Instead of quitting the lotto thing, I ramped it up. I was frustrated and semi crazy. I put on my backpack, put on my helmet, and jumped on my bicycle (it was embarrassing, but I didn’t have a car). I made the pavement smoke as I sped down the street. First, I went to the bank and had my credit limit raised to $20,000 on my credit card. That done, I headed to Cliff’s, “The Lord of Lotto.”
“I want every scratch-off Lotto ticket you have, up to $20,000.” The woman behind the counter looked at me like I was crazy, and she was right. I had scratch-off fever. My mind was saying “scratch it, scratch it, never stop.” My heart was saying “scratch it, scratch it, never stop.” All my internal organs were urging me on, even my appendix which is supposed to be an inert piece of flesh that does nothing but get infected and explode.
The lady behind the counter was unreeling the scratch-offs from their plastic rack—like brightly colored toilet paper that would probably wipe me out. She swiped the tickets through the credit card scanner and stuffed them in my backpack as she went along. Cliff’s only had 600 tickets on the rack. I paid for them with my credit card—$600.00. I tore a ticket off of my Take-Five bundle and gave it to the women behind the counter. She kissed it and winked at me.
I got on my bike and peddled home with my potentially valuable cargo. I got home and dumped my tickets on the dining room table. It was a mountain. I thought, “What the hell, I’ll invite my best friends over for a ‘Scratch Down’ party.” My 3 friends trickled in around a half-hour later. I made Mojitos, gave them coins to scratch with, and we started scratching. Drinking and scratching. Scratching and drinking. After 200 tickets, I had won $25.00 and nine free tickets. I fell asleep from Mojito magic.
When I woke up, my friends were gone, and there was a weird-looking little man at the table scratching lotto tickets so fast his hands were a blur. “So far, $280.00 and 27 free tickets.” he said. He scared the hell out of me, but I wasn’t about to run away with all those tickets on the table. “Don’t worry, your friends didn’t steal any tickets. I told them if they did, I would kill them. They believed me.” I couldn’t speak. I was in shock. He said, “I manifest when otherwise normal people go crazy on scratch-off lotto tickets. I work for the State of New York. Once the scratching is done, I provide counseling. I confiscate your credit cards and have you banned from Cliff’s. My name is Norknock, a popular name among my people. I harken from the 12th Dimension. My people are never “led into into temptation,” and are “delivered from evil” by a genetic mutation propagated throughout the 12th Dimension at least 2,023 years ago. So, let’s finish up here.”
We “finished up” and Norknock dematerialized after we made an appointment for next Friday at 4:00 pm. I tried to go to Cliff’s for cigarettes and couldn’t get closer than 2 feet to the entrance—I felt like a magnet being repelled. In fact, I had the same experience anywhere lotto tickets were sold. Luckily, Norknock agreed to accompany me and make purchases for me wherever I’m blocked. We shop on our counseling days.
After all was said and done, my $600.00 worth of lotto tickets netted me $405.00 and 32 free tickets. That’s pretty bad. Things would’ve been different if I hadn’t given the ticket to the Cliff’s lady behind the counter. The ticket won $5,555.00.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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