Amphibologia (am’-fi-bo-lo’-gi-a): Ambiguity of grammatical structure, often occasioned by mispunctuation. [A vice of ambiguity.]
He was up to his neck in wet cement. It was slowly hardening and he was slowly dying. As the cement hardened, it became harder to breathe. What a way to go—a head sticking out of the floor of a basement in a new housing development. He never should’ve listened to his friend Eddie. He told Eddie he had a traffic fine to pay—that he had ignored it and now he would go to jail if he didn’t pay it by next week. He was unemployed and nearly homeless—his widowed mother would let him eat dinner and take a bath once a week. She was living on Social Security, receiving a check for $75 one a month. It was barely enough to pay for the phone, and water, and electricity, and food. The mortgage was paid, so that wasn’t a problem. She had taken in a boarder, Miss O’Trapp. He was in love with Miss O’Trapp, but she would not let him show it. She pushed him away and told him she didn’t feel that way, but would be happy to dance for him up in her room. He settled for that—spirited Irish step dancing that drove him wild. And when Miss O’Trapp sang “Danny Boy” he would break down and cry—actually sob and then leave Miss O’Trapp’s room with his shirt wet from tears. But now, we was slowly suffocating in hardening cement.
He never should’ve listened to Eddie. When he met Duke the money lender, he had instant trepidations. Duke had a gun-bulge in his jacket and diamond rings on all his fingers. He was wearing lizard skin cowboy boots, a red suit and a black shirt. He looked familiar, like a wanted poster he’d seen in the post office. As Duke counted out the $50 he needed to pay his fine, Duke looked at him and asked him if he knew what “cementing” a deal means. He thought he knew what it meant, so he answered “Yes Mr. Duke.” Now, up to his neck in cement, he knew should’ve asked Duke to elaborate on “cementing a deal.”
He had missed one payment on his loan. “Cementing” is what loan sharks like Duke did for failure to pay.
He started yelling for help. Miss O’Trapp came down the basement stairs wearing rubber boots. “When they carried you away this morning, Mr. Johnny, I followed,” said Miss O’Trapp. She was carrying some boards and had a hose. She set the boards down in a path and walked to Mr. Johnny. She shoved the hose down into the cement and it started to liquify—turning into slurry. She went outside and came back with a rope attached to the rear bumper of her car. She tied the rope under his armpits, went outside and drove her car slowly away from the house. She felt the rope give and she knew Mr. Johnny was saved. As she dragged him out of the basement, Duke showed up with gun drawn. She pulled $75 out of her purse and handed it to Duke. He put away his gun and left.
Miss O’Trapp hosed down Mr. Johnny and they headed to his mother’s house, where he took a bath and put on dry clothes. They went upstairs to her room. She sat on the bed and took off her rubber boots. She unbuttoned the top three buttons of her cardigan. She put on her clogs. She turned up the record player and danced like she’d never danced before. Mr. Johnny could feel the heat. He stood up and raised his arms. She ran toward him and embraced him as the music blared. He proposed. She accepted. He got a decent job, and so did she: he, playing records on the radio, she, giving dance lessons to children. Their relationship was cemented by the bond of marriage and they had a nearly perfect life together, debt free and full of love.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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