Epanodos (e-pan’-o-dos): 1. Repeating the main terms of an argument in the course of presenting it. 2. Returning to the main theme after a digression. 3. Returning to and providing additional detail for items mentioned previously (often using parallelism).
I don’t know why I wanted to learn how to shuck oysters. I don’t know why I wanted to learn how to make pan flutes. Why did I want to knit caps for new-born babies? Why did I want to learn how to make a pipe bomb? Why did I want to blow up the statue of Ramble Balforth on the village green?
He was THE founder of our little village of Balforth, NY, founded in 1787. His descendants still dominate the town, from the supermarket to the hardware store, to mayor Gumby Balforth, named after the claymation action figure his father loved. He’s about as smart as a ball of clay. Since he’s been mayor, Balforth has become a cesspool: the mayor has leased Belforth’s dells to “Poopy Dipper” a septic tank pumper. Now, the village is surrounded by “lakes” of human waste. The mayor claims the village has benefitted from the poop trucks pumping out their contents around the village—surrounding it with a smelly brown soup! The mayor has purchased a beachfront condo in Florida. His plan is clear: take the poop-money and run. Gumby is a crook and a grifter!
The pipe bomb will go a long way toward getting rid of him and remedy the evil on the village green.
Rambler Balforth’s claim to fame was buying and selling orphans. Child labor laws were nonexistent and you didn’t have to pay kids much, no matter what their job was. They were employed as physicians, coal miners, vicars, used stage coach sales people, gourmet chefs, chemists and more! There were numerous orphanages back then, and that’s where Rambler got his children. He would pick them up in a mule cart and sell them at the Farmer’s Market on Thursdays. He specialized in toddlers because they were small and many could talk. In addition, he could pile them high in his mule cart without injuring them. He sold them by the pound, like cows or pigs.
His statue deserves the pipe bomb. He was a fiend.
My great grandfather five times removed, Ben Rice, was one of those children that Balforth bought and sold. He was sold to a traveling accordion player named Fitz Punky. Fitz taught him to play the accordion. They would do duets on the streets of Boston. Fitz was run over and killed by a milk wagon. After Fitz’s death, Ben went back to Balforth to seek his revenge. His plan was to assassinate Balforth at the Farmer’s Market. He was too poor to afford a decent weapon, so he secreted a knife in his accordion. He strolled around the market playing the accordion. When he got to Balfortn’s stand he started playing and singing Ben Franklin’s “Visitors and Fish.” When he got to “stink,” he lunged forward, pulled the knife, and stabbed Balforth to death.
Balforth was so universally hated, that Ben was not charged with a crime. He got married, had children, and played accordion on the Village Green. He died at the age of 103 from chronic severe rickets. One day, his bow legs collapsed, hurling him in front of a galloping horse. The horse stepped on his head, leaving a stain on the street that some people claim they can see to this day.
POSTSCRIPT
I arrived at the Village Green at 2:00 a.m. I pulled the pipe bomb out of my backpack and duct taped it to Rambler Balforth’s crotch. I lit the fuse with my Bic and ran behind a tree. BLAM! Rambler Balforth was reduced to rubble scattered everywhere. Justice had been served. I decided to leave Gumby alone. He was destined to be caught, and the dells pumped.
Two weeks after I blew it up, there was a new statue of Rambler Balforth erected on the Village Green. I don’t want to risk another bombing. I have started spray painting the statue with graffiti. The first time I showed up there was a policeman on guard. He motioned me over to the statue. He saw my spray can and asked if he could paint something on the statue.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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