Epergesis (e-per-gee’-sis): Interposing an apposition, often in order to clarify what has just been stated.
My feet hurt—they feel like they’re on fire. I walked on burning embers at Manly Man Camp last weekend. I dropped my cellphone and stopped to pick it up. The one rule of fire walking is don’t stop. I broke the rule. My feet smell like London Broil. Obviously, I can’t walk. I tried learning how to use a skateboard, but it was terribly painful to push along with one foot. Luckily, the hospital eventually gave me candy opium drops. They numbed the pain, but my vision was blurred and I kept falling asleep and having vivid dreams. In one of the weirdest dreams, I became a bear rummaging around in a dump. I got a mop bucket stuck on my head. I couldn’t get it off and I woke up screaming. Through the opium induced haze I saw my wife with a 2×4 over her head. I growled my best bear growl and she put it down,
We decided I had to get out of the house more. My wife bought me a Gosmilo Adult One Wheel, Double Range1500W Motor One Wheel Self Balancing, 30-40km Range 420Wh Battery Electric Unicycle (X5)—a real mouthful—but it got me out the door. My feet would not touch the ground—no pain, good gain. The first time I took it for a ride, I knocked over my neighbor’s mailbox and ran over his dog Woo-woo, a setter-poo. He chased me in his car until my battery ran out. He was a policeman so he beat me with a rubber hose. Given the opium, it didn’t hurt, but I pretended it did to appease him.
My feet are nearly healed now. So, I wear roller blades everywhere. They’re well-cushioned and roll smoothly over just about any surface. I have met a number of other rollers. We drag race in the high school parking lot. I met a woman named Betty Big Wheels. We hi it off and go rolling by the lake in the park. My wife thought I was having an affair, but I managed to convince her I wasn’t. Big Wheels Betty thought differently. She asked me if I wanted to do the horizontal roll. I excused myself and went rolling home to my wife, who had stuck with me through all the craziness.
My feet are healed. You never want to walk in my shoes. They smell like barbecue sauce.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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