Enallage

Enallage (e-nal’-la-ge): The substitution of grammatically different but semantically equivalent constructions.

“We was whacked” they moaned from the depths of hell. “We done what they told us. They shot us in the head fifty times each. It was like they run my head through a chipper or a blender. It was liquified. I had one of them ‘out-of-body’ experiences, so I seen it all.”

A puff of smoke was hanging in front of me talking to me. Clearly, he was one of those old-time New York City gangsters. He was probably eating at an Italian restaurant, wearing a pin stripe suit, and lavender spats when he was “whacked.” But, I didn’t give a damn. I blew hard at the cloud of smoke and fanned my hand. The smoke dissipated and the gangster bugged off. It was like changing channels.

I inhaled and blew another cloud of “Toady’s Talking Smoke.” I bought it at “Nature’s Dong,” a place like some kind of grocery store selling “exotic organics.” “Toady’s Talking Smoke” was a traditional Irish remedy for loneliness and depression. They say, for centuries, it has worked “from glen to glen and across the countryside” in lieu of whiskey to perk people up with conversation partners manifest in clouds of smoke. At $400 per ounce, it has gotten so expensive that it is generally out of reach of the “huddled masses” who populate America’s major cities, as well as towns, villages, and hamlets.

I first found out about “Toady’s” when I was writing Al Jolson’s biography. Al had serious identity problems. The raging success of “My Mammy” had made him feel guilty about hoodwinking so many fans—he didn’t even know where “Alabammy” was, or what it was. He just sang the song, and became more and more alienated from his fans and everybody who loved him. He was considering suicide when a compassionate leprechaun appeared in his dressing room. “Have a pull on this Al. I’ve made a wish for you,” the leprechaun said as he held out a beautiful Peterson pipe. Al gave it a huff and blew out a nice cloud of smoke that said, “Hey Al, I’m here to tell you this rut you’re in is gettin’ shallow. We’re going to write you a hit tune about something you know about and care about.” The leprechaun vanished as Ai and the voice went to work, and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” was born, and it was collaborating with the talking cloud as they composed it, that turned Al’s life around.

After my discovery of its impact on Al Jolson’s life, I had to find and try some “Toady’s.” I Googled it and nothing turned up except vague rumors asserting its existence. One hit stood out though. It was a woman with the screen name “mymammy25.” We talked on FaceTime and she told me about “Nature’s Dong.” She told me she was from the past and not to try to contact her again. I was severely disappointed when she told me that—I had fallen in love with her the second she answered my call. I called her numerous times anyway, changing my phone number and screen name and wearing different disguises so she would answer. When I finally revealed myself, she told me right from my first call, disguised as Abraham Lincoln, she knew it was me—for all 52 calls. She hung up and my my phone’s screen went blank and my phone got hot. I threw it on the ground and it burst into flames. That was the end of my relationship with mammy25.

So, I found my local “Nature’s Dong” and found it after crawling through a tunnel under CVS. paid $200.00 for a 1/2 ounce of “Toady’s Talking Smoke.” Smoking “Toady’s” can be like conversational Roulette—you never know what you’re going to get. If you don’t like what you get, you just dissipate the smoke. There is also the option of asking the cloud for help with something. In that sense, its like Siri. Either way, if you don’t like it, you can dissipate it.. Tomorrow, I’m going to “Nature’s Dong” to buy a “Toady’s Talking Smoke” vape. Then, I’ll be able to summon a talking cloud wherever smoking is permitted. I got knee pads to make the crawl to “Nature’s Dong” less painful.

Although it’s a little pricey, I highly recommend “Toady’s Talking Smoke.” Don’t be lonesome tonight. Smoke some Toady’s.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu) 

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