Eutrepismus

Eutrepismus (eu-tre-pis’-mus): Numbering and ordering the parts under consideration. A figure of division, and of ordering.

It was as easy as 1, 2, 3! First: Open the tube of “Super Glue.” Second: Spill some my fingertips. Three: Press fingertips together. Congratulations! In three easy steps you’ve glued your fingers together! You’re going to have to put off gluing your chopsticks back together as you try to figure out how to unglue your fingers without tearing the flesh off. Hmm—time to Google remedies. Here are a few:

1. Grit your teeth and rip your fingers apart.

2. Soak your hand in diluted sulphuric acid.

3. Cover your hand with rubber bands.

4. Leave it alone. It will fix itself.

I chose leave it alone because it seemed the least painful and the least intrusive. I’ve been “leaving it alone” for 3 months now. I have become left-handed. My glued hand has a strong unpleasant smell—sort of like a combination of a clogged drain and cooking rutabaga. I’ve put cologne on it to mask the stink, but it only lasts five minutes and the stink comes back. So, I’ve given up on cologne and am experimenting with Febreeze. This involves pulling on an over-sized mitten and soaking the mitten with Fabreze. I carry a bottle of Febreeze hooked to one of my belt loops.

I finally went to my Doctor. She removed my mitten and gagged. “Your hand is rotting! We must take immediate action or the rot will spread and poison you! It could be fatal. I will put your hand in this sterile glass box and sprinkle your hand with bacteria-eating spores.” They were “found” on the men’s room floor at the Schuyler rest stop on the NY Thruway. It didn’t work. My hand blew up to the size a a watermelon, breaking the glass box and spraying green goo out of my fingertips.

Later that morning we received a phone call from Nick Tourjob, an employee of “Bonaface Solvents.” He said he had heard of my plight and could put a few drops of Number 92 solvent on my fingertips, and it would cut right through the Super Glue. He did what he said he’d do and the Super Glue melted away. I was free! Nick was sitting close to me. He lit a cigarette and my hand went up in flames. I put it out in the kitchen sink. No harm done. Nick apologized and asked me out to dinner. I was so lonely I almost would’ve gone out with somebody’s grandfather, blind, with a dog and a walker. I went out once with Nick. He was too weird—he wanted to rub solvent on me as a kind of foreplay. What a creep!

Since my ordeal, I’ve stayed left-handed. I feel special.

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

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