Epenthesis (e-pen’-thes-is): The addition of a letter, sound, or syllable to the middle of a word. A kind of metaplasm. Note: Epenthesis is sometimes employed in order to accommodate meter in verse; sometimes, to facilitate easier articulation of a word’s sound. It can, of course, be accidental, and a vice of speech.
I’m goin’ to the roe-hoe-doe-dee-o. Yahoo! I got my bull ridin’ license yesterday afternoon, an after I flunked the test 9 times. You have to stay on a mechanical bull for 20 minutes without falling off. That’s a long ride partner! I coulda’ gone all the way to the shoppin’ mall. I tried to cheat once on the test by super gluin’ my butt to the saddle. I didn’t think it through. I went for the full twenty minutes, but the glue wouldn’t let me off the bull. I had to squirm out of my Wranglers and drive home in my underpants. It cost me $700 to fix the bull, but I learned a valuable lesson: don’t glue yourself to things unless you’ve got some kind of solvent to break the bond, especially if it’s Super Glue! I keep those Wranglers hangin’ in the garage to remind me of my folly every night when I come home from work. The butt’s as stiff as cardboard, and that’s a further lesson. What a fool I was. My wife actually put a frame around them and wrote “Nitwit” across them with gold glitter. Whenever I start acting like a fool, she takes me out to the garage and points to the pants. I nod my head and say “You’re right honey.” Another wrong turn avoided!
But today, I’m goin’ to the rodeo. I’m doin’ bull ridin’ as you have gathered. I’ve drawn “Old Red Eyes.” He seriously injured a rider last Saturday—he threw him hard, stomped on his face and stood there and peed on him. I didn’t see it, but I heard it was horrible. The rider’s face was smashed beyond recognition. He’s in a coma with possible brain damage. But, I’m gonna’ ride Old Red Eyes to hell and back if need be.
They call my number and I head to the chute. 5 cowboys with cattle prods are pushin’ Old Red Eyes into the chute. I climb on and adjust the body rope—I swear Old Red Eyes made a growling sound. Then, bam! We’re out of the chute. My shoulder comes dislocated—I’m afraid my arm’s going to come off. It hurts like hell! Time to dismount. My boot gets stuck in one of the stirrups. I fall off Old Red Eyes. He drags me around and hits me in the head with one of his hooves, and I pass out.
I “wake up” and I’m flying in a wheelchair over the rodeo arena. A crowd of people is waving at me as I fly over. They’re holding signs that say “Nitwit.” After two weeks, I’m released from the hospital, but I have amnesia from the blow on my head. I don’t recognize my children or wife, or anybody else. I answer to “Nitwit” and everybody laughs, especially the person who says he’s my brother. This is how he greets me, “Hey nitwit. What’s up nitwit? How’s it goin’ nitwit? What’s 2+2 nitwit?”
Suddenly, my amnesia lifted and I remembered everything. I agree that “Nitwit” is a good name for me. I changed my name on my driver’s license and opened a bungee jumping business named “Nitwits.”
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 