Epizeuxis: Repetition of the same word, with none between, for vehemence. Synonym for palilogia.
“Boing, boing, boing, boing, boing.” My blind date said. We were sitting in an aluminum clad diner on Rte. 22 outside Elizabeth, NJ, where I had been shot by an asshole with a zip gun at a birthday party at the Polish Community Center 2 years ago. He got me in the hand with a .22. It didn’t even go through my hand. I pulled out the bullet and beat him senseless. We dragged him into the men’s room and stuck the gun up his ass. I was 16. I was ruthless. I had a reputation. Nobody fu*ked with me.
Now I was 18 and I was sitting across from some crazy-assed girl that I had never met before. I said “Boing, boing” back to her. She looked disappointed. Maybe it was because I just did two boings instead five she had done. I asked if she was disappointed and she shook her head no and smiled. I figured if I just asked her yes and no questions then she could nod or shake her head to, we could have a pretty good time. I started.
“Are you from Elizabeth?” I got a yes shake. “Do you want a Coke?” I got another yes shake. “Do you like me?” Something new: I got a shrug. I was disappointed, but, I kept going. “What do you like to do?” The second I opened my mouth, I knew I had screwed up. She started going “boing.” When she got to ten, I told her to shut the hell up. She looked hurt and stopped boinging. I apologized. She said it was ok—she couldn’t control the boinging, then she started boinging. I just sat back and listened. She stopped on her own after 26 boings. I wanted to take home and say good night. She slid a piece of paper across the table. It said “I know a place under the Goethals Bridge.” So did I—it was a notorious make-out place. I said, Let’s go.” We got there and it was packed with cars rocking back and forth. We kissed and she went “boing, boing, boing, boing.” People rolled down their car windows and were yelling “Boing, boing, it’s Lady boing, boing.” I told her I didn’t care. I liked her boings and all. That’s what she needed to hear. She instantly stopped boinging. She was so bright and had so much to offer. I gave here my skull jaw-breaker ring and she’s wearing it around her neck. We’re going steady. Who knows where we’ll end up. Whenever I think of her, my heart goes boing, boing, boing.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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