Mesodiplosis

Mesodiplosis (mes-o-dip-lo’-sis): Repetition of the same word or words in the middle of successive sentences.

The cheap rope was starting to fray. My life was cheap—cheap as a chipped coffee mug at a Salvation Army thrift store. I was sure to have a cheap funeral—cremated in our wood stove, my ashes shoveled into a cardboard box, and deposited in the dumpster behind Cliff’s.

I was such an idiot to let price instead, of quality and reputation, determine the equipment I bought, especially if my life depended on it, Rock climbing was all about the rope. Rope snaps: life over. I had purchased my rope at Agway. Their rope was 1/8 the price of Dick’s rope—which was quite attractive, consisting of multi-colored strands woven together. The Agway rope was shining white in a cellophane wrapper. Not as attractive as Dick’s, but way, way cheaper. It was called “Clothesline Rope.” I guessed it was called that because it was shiny white and looked really clean, and you could hang clothes on it. I bought a 100 foot package of clothesline rope. If you could hangs wet clothes on it, you could probably hang on it too, at 1/8 the price.

I had gotten my boots used on Etsy, and my helmet too. The boots were made in Italy. They had mildew on them as well as tiny specks of blood. They didn’t come with any backstory about the blood. So, I just let it go. The mildew was a little more concerning. I soaked the boots in my bathtub in a mixture of Clorox, ammonia, and gasoline. It didn’t help remove the mildew, but it made them smell better. The helmet was all nicked up and had been glued back together after what must have been a severe blow. It was advertised on Etsy as a piece of an estate being settled for Mr. Amil Canyon, deceased.

All I needed next were carabiners, crucial in making rapid connections and holding climbing ropes in position, especially in rappelling. For example, riding a rope down the face of a cliff. I had shopped around and found carabiners to be crazy expensive—$20 or more. I was on my way home from my futile search when I stopped at Cliff’s for a slice of pizza. I noticed a display that said “Key Rings.” They were carabiners and they only cost $5.00! I bought ten—now I was ready to go!

The next day I drove out to “Satan’s Face.” It was a sheer drop of 200 feet. I looked over the edge and saw two ambulances standing by at the cliff’s bottom. There were representatives from every religious domination at the top of the cliff, ready to say a prayer for you for $10.00, cash only, before you started your descent. I am an atheist, so I didn’t know what to do, but I suited up anyway. Then, I heard a scream, and a loud thud followed by sirens. That did it! I tore off my gear, got in my car, and drove home, but for reasons I’ll never understand, I still wanted to defy gravity.

I had a tree in my back yard with a bare limb about 20 feet off the ground. I could rappel from my tree and experience some of the thrill of descending from a cliff, and probably survive. I leaned my trusty aluminum ladder against the limb, donned my harness, and climbed up to affix my rope to the tree limb. I rigged up and launched off from the tree limb, ready to slide gently to Mother Earth. Everything went wrong. I was hanging upside down. My key ring carabiner had bent, and popped open. Its sharp edge frayed my clothesline rope which wrapped around my leg, flipping me over. Soon the rope would break and I would soar head first into the ground. I was going to die! There was no ambulance waiting under my tree. Then I remembered. My cellphone! I called 911.

The emergency people showed up in about five minutes and safely cut me down. Before they cut me down, they all started laughing—one actually rolling around on the ground. One asked me, with tears running down his cheeks, “What the hell are you trying to do?” I remained silent, coiling up my clothesline rope like an expert, still wearing my helmet.

Later, I told my wife what had happened and she laughed and asked “Are you going to stop taking testosterone now, like you promised?”

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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