Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].
I took a shot at winning. I took a shot of whisky. I took a shot at the target. I missed by a wide margin. My pants fell down. I needed help getting off the field. Taking a shot of whisky was part of the ritual of the annual bow and arrow competition behind the city’s firehouse, I have never been able to hold my liquor. But taking a shot before stepping up to the line is mandatory. I hope every year that the whisky won’t affect me, but it does. At least I didn’t kill anything this year with my stray arrow. Last year, I hit a Robin’s nest in a nearby tree. You can imagine what a mess that was!
The annual bow shoot goes back to colonial times. The colonists had run out of gunpowder, and had been without it for months. The Native Americans had been supplying game. One day, one of their leaders said “We are sick of supplying you with turkeys and dragging dead deer over hell and back to feed you. We will teach you how to make bows and arrows and shoot them at animals, big and small.” Our forebears welcomed the opportunity and became expert bowmen. They killed and ate squirrels and rabbits for hundreds of miles around. Because our forebears were killing everything in sight. The Native Americans confiscated their bows and arrows and went back to supplying our forebears with food.
Our forebears were angry. They plied the Native Americans with whisky and got their bows and arrows back when the Native Americans were sleeping. When they awoke, the Native Americans packed and went to Ohio where there were few settlers. Our forebears rented a cargo wagon and went to New York where they purchased enough gunpowder to blow down all the herds of deer within 100 miles.
This is when our revered ancestor intervened. Paradise Bellfort was our preacher. He gave a tear-jerking sermon advocating restraint and instituting an annual bow and arrow competition reminding us of “kinder times.” The sermon took. It took people back to kinder times. They hung their muskets over their fireplaces and started buying meat at the general store that had come to town the preceding year. To get cash to spend, our forebears turned to farming and raising sheep, goats, and cows.
So, here I am a prisoner of the annual bow shoot. This year, I’m going to spit out the whisky when nobody’s looking and go sober to the bow shoot.
POSTSCRIPT
Spitting out the whisky didn’t work. My sister saw me and ratted me out. I was blindfolded and tied to a target.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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