Epitheton (e-pith’-e-ton): Attributing to a person or thing a quality or description-sometimes by the simple addition of a descriptive adjective; sometimes through a descriptive or metaphorical apposition. (Note: If the description is given in place of the name, instead of in addition to it, it becomes antonomasia or periphrasis.)
Billy “Big Time” Belldong was at it again. He was planning another one of his famous themed parties. He gave everybody who came to his parties a one-hundred dollar bill. As you can imagine, they’re packed and they usually last for two whacko-matic days. Even the Dali-Lama came to “Meet The Meat” one month ago. The party had almost one of every species and animal to eat, some of them were endangered species. It was like partying on Noah’s Ark. I’m not going to squeal on the Dali-Lama—suffice it to say he does not talk with his mouth full. I enjoyed the basics: roasted ducklings, cranberry sauce, broiled frog’s legs, and an open face raccoon sandwich. The raccoon meat was drizzled with blueberry sauce and served with a petite wedge of cheddar cheese. Only one person ate the alligator anus. It was seasoned with red pepper flakes and habanera peppers—too spicy for most human beings. The guy that ate the anus left the party in an ambulance with spicy-smelling smoke coming out of his mouth. He was a biker and probably earned some points with his fellow gang members. The were named the “Rotten Eggs” and threw rotten eggs at rival gangs trying to butt in to their fried chicken franchise, which was ubiquitous in the Midwest. Their motto “Fingernail Lickin’ Good” was known from Chicago to Topeka.
Big Time’s upcoming party was billed as “Chain Saw Mayhem.” There were supposed to be hundreds of mannequins sitting in folding chairs. Each attendee will be issued a small chainsaw. When they’ve had a chance to get good and high on “Mambo Combos” (mixed drinks consisting of lemonade, mescaline, and grain alcohol), Ozzie Osborne’s “Crazy Train” cranks up. Then, in conjunction with the music’s start, the attendees crank up their chainsaws and goose-step toward the blank-faced mannequins, intending to saw off their heads.
Before all this started, Big Time announced that there was one real person masquerading as a mannequin among the hundreds sitting in their folding chairs. It was his identical twin who was a real pain in the ass. He told everybody “not to worry” if “mistakes are made.”
So the goose-stepping began and mannequin heads were flying everywhere. Standing there, I got hit on the shoulder by a decapitated head that looked like Abraham Lincoln. It was weird. The din was tremendous and the smell of 2-cycle exhaust fumes filled the air. Accidents happened, and happened, and happened. There were nine ambulances lined up at the edge of the field where everything was taking place. There were the sounds of sirens, chain saws, people screaming, and Ozzie. I considered it a catastrophe. Big Time considered it a whopping success. He waded into the crowd and took a seat. His head came off with one swipe of some guy’s chain saw who yelled “I got the twin brother!”
POSTSCRIPT
We learned that Big Time had an inoperable terminal brain tumor. He used “Chain Saw Mayhem” as a sort of euthanasia. He new from the start that he’d be cashing in his chips at the party. The identical twin brother thing was a ruse. Since assisted suicide is legal in our state, the guy who sawed off Big Time’s head was not arrested or accused of a crime.
I would always say to Big Time when he started a new party project, “Don’t lose your head.” In retrospect, it seems ironic.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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