Epizeuxis: Repetition of the same word, with none between, for vehemence. Synonym for palilogia.
“Take me the fu*k home! I want to go home RIGHT NOW!”
She wasn’t having a good time. She was tied up and blindfolded and stuffed in his car’s trunk. You should’ve gagged her so she wouldn’t upset you with her yelling.
You met her at church. You sat next to each other. You sang hymns together: “Holy, holy, holy. Lord God Almighty” was your favorite. You often feel almighty when you’re on a “dupe date” with somebody. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to get somebody in your car’s trunk. You say, “Wait a minute” and pull over. You jump out and open the trunk. Your date is curious and bends over to look in the trunk. You give her a little shove and you bagged another one. Before they know what’s going on you inject a sedative in their butt, blindfold them, tie them up, and slam the trunk shut.
Now, the date begins.
You drive around for awhile listening to their muffled screams and their flopping around. They all remind you of your sister who you accidentally decapitated when you were kids. Your Uncle Harry had brought you back a machete from Malaysia where he had worked on a rubber plantation. Your Mom said it was a bad idea, but Uncle Harry assured her that you were a well-balanced young man who would probably just hang it on his bedroom wall as a souvenir. Uncle Harry was wrong. You chased your sister around the house with it swinging it over your head, until finally, you tripped on the hallway carpet and lopped off her head. Since you were a child you were not charged with a crime.
Two months later your copy of “Boys Life” magazine featured a taxidermist who decapitated dead animals and mounted their heads on wooden plaques. You felt vindicated. You made a squirrel trap, caught squirrels, decapitated them, and nailed their heads to pieces of wood. You made ten of them and took them to the Farmer’s Market to sell for $59.95 each. Your stand was called “Dead Squirrel/Good Squirrel.” The Game Warden was summoned. He complimented you on your craftsmanship and bought two—one for his father and one for himself. This further affirmed that you were doing something good. A Game Warden! Your mounted squirrel heads sold out. Dead Squirrel/Good Squirrel was a hit! People had all kinds of reasons for buying them. Your favorite was the guy whose brother owed him money. He was going to put the squirrel’s head on his brother’s pillow to scare him into paying up.
Anyway, as you got older the squirrels’ heads and your sister’s head got mixed up in your mind. You started decapitating women and mounting their heads on boards. Tonight, you were shit out of luck. Your trunk prisoner was able to get ahold of her switchblade and cut her bonds and take off the blindfold. She got her cellphone out of her jeans and called 911. Her friends told her she was paranoid, but she carried bear spray anyway. She had it in her hand and she was ready to spray the living shit out of the guy who had kidnapped her.
And there you were machete in hand, opening the trunk and getting soaked in the face with bear spray. The pain was deathly—you were repelled and ran to get away and ran into a tree and knocked yourself out. The woman stood on your throat until the police arrived. You were crying as they handcuffed you and guided you into one of the waiting police cars.
You are considered a serial killer. There were 6 heads hanging in your garage and another one on your workbench in the process of being mounted.
Of course, you’ll plead insanity and try to get sentenced to a mental institution. But that won’t work. You kept a diary that is lucid and meticulously records the details of each of your murders and shows how all the murders were premeditated.
You are a monster—how could you sing “Holy, holy, holy. Lord God Almighty” with a woman in church while at the same time planning to decapitate and mount her head? Maybe your Uncle Harry is somehow to blame for giving you the machete in the first place. He’s back in Malaysia serving time for stealing buka balls and putting wigs on them.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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