Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.
Dear Lina:
Your hair looked like a bird’s nest that fell out of a tree. But then I looked more closely. It was a bird’s nest. It had three blue eggs in it. Suddenly, a mother Robin flew in the window and settled in the nest. You told me you fell asleep on the glider on the front porch and when you woke up there was a nest woven into your hair with three eggs. Moments later, the mother Robin looked at me and and cocked head..
I asked what you were going to do. You told me your dad was going to get the nest out of your hair and throw it in the garbage where it belonged. I snapped. I called you terrible names—baby killer, murderer, monster. The little blue eggs were all innocent, and you and your dad were going to smash them just to get them off your head. It was disgusting.
My rage made you cry, but you made it clear to me that your dad lays down the “law” in your family. You said he calls himself “Moses” when he looks in the mirror and has a pile of dirt in your backyard that he calls Mt. Sinai. You cried and cried. Then, to show my love, we agreed that I would take the nest and wear it on my head until the baby birds hatched and flew away.
This was easier said than done. We went inside, and with much effort, we cut the nest out of your hair, and I apologize again for the gash across your forehead. Then, we glued the nest to the bottom of a plastic mixing bowl that fit my head perfectly. We punched 2 holes along the edges of the bowl and strung the laces from my trainers through the holes for a chin strap. I promised I would only take off the nest to shower and to sleep. I’ve kept my promise.
I went Wal-Mart wearing the nest with the mother Robin in it and everybody stared, and some people pointed and took pictures. The next thing I knew, I went viral on social media. They called me “Mr. Nest Hat.” My picture had 1,000,000 hits on the Audubon Society website. Somehow, they found out my name and address. I am being asked to endorse bird products: bird feeder seed, hummingbird feeders and food, bluebird boxes, cuttle bones, birdbaths, and badminton birdies. I’m pretty sure I’ll make at least $1,000,000.
Well, the eggs have hatched and the babies are getting more and more unruly. When I take the nest off my head I have to put a bushel basket over it. So their mother can feed them, I’ve built a platform in the maple tree where I sit wearing the nest most of the day. The mother sits on the branch above us, watching over us. She has tried to feed me several times. I pretend to take the worm, but I drop in in my shirt pocket and she’s none the wiser.
So, I was wondering: since the babies will soon fly away, will you marry me? I will be rich, so you can’t go wrong! I kept my promise. Now, it’s your turn.
Love and tweeties,
Ted
POSTSCRIPT
Ted and Lina got married and live in a trailer park on the outskirts of town. Ted continues to wait for his wealth to materialize. Lina works as a server at the Golden Chicken, a saloon catering to bikers. She hates Ted and is going to file for divorce as soon as she saves enough money. One of the baby robins was eaten by Ted’s cat Patter Paws. The other two grew to maturity. One flew into its reflection in a window and died at the age of 2. The remaining Robin sibling was mistaken for a dove and shot dead by a hunter in Texas at the age of 4. The mother Robin is still going strong, living comfortably in North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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