Anastrophe (an-as’-tro-phee): Departure from normal word order for the sake of emphasis. Anastrophe is most often a synonym for hyperbaton, but is occasionally referred to as a more specific instance of hyperbaton: the changing of the position of only a single word.
At the beginning of the race, there are no winners. Try they must. There is hope. There is fear. But there are no winners. I don’t know why I did it to myself, year after year. My mother introduced me to it when I was a little boy. She told me if I kept it up, I would amount to something. So, I kept it up year after year for the past 22 years, and I hadn’t amounted to anything worthy of note. Sure, I had gone to college and majored in English. Sure, I have a job at Hannaford’s managing the fresh fruits and vegetables—spraying, trimming, rotating them. And of course, I was married. We have 3 kids—a boy and two girls—Dilbert, Dolly and Dorothy. Dilbert has just gotten out of jail for armed robbery and we’re looking forward to rehabilitating him. The first step is to keep him chained to the hot water heater in the basement. We got the idea from the book “Chained Straight” recommended by Dilbert’s parole officer “Time Bomb” Johnson. Oh, my wife has gotten really fat since we’ve been married. I don’t mind though. Since she has enlarged, I can fit in her clothes. We’ve invented our own kind of Cosplay. We pretend we’re mirrors and chase each other around the house, and then we stop for “reflection.” We send our kids to the mall whenever we play. We don’t want them to know how twisted we are. But, a couple of weeks ago, they snuck back from the mall in an Uber and peeked in the windows. They’re staying with their grandmother now until their therapy starts working.
Anyway—the race. I’m an “Egg-and-spoon racer.” I balance an egg on a spoon and dash to the finish line. The first person across the finish line with their egg still balanced on their spoon wins the race. I have a special racing spoon I got at Dick’s Sporting Goods. It cost $300.00. The spoon’s scoop is treated with an abrasive compound to minimize egg slippage. The spoon’s handle has a leather strap with a buckle to stabilize the spoon. I also have my own team colors like a jockey’s. The dominant color is hard-boiled chicken egg yolk yellow with duck egg pale blue/green pin stripes. I had my colors made in Hong Kong for $1,000.00. I’ve never won a race. I discovered last year that one of my legs is 1 cm. shorter than the other. It makes me rock back and forth, inevitably spilling the egg. This year I have a lift for my shoe that will level me up. I’m pretty sure that, at long last, I’ll win. My only obstacle is Buck Buck who moved here two weeks ago. It is rumored he runs the course with his eyes closed and wins every time, and has feathers in his public areas. I’m trying to figure out a way to cheat. In the meantime, I will just keep practicing.
Well, there you have it. The life of a competitive Egg-and-spoon racer. Let’s just say, I’m not going to crack.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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