Mesozeugma (me’-so-zyoog’-ma): A zeugma in which one places a common verb for many subjects in the middle of a construction.
Trucks, wagons, and wheelbarrows carried the loads, some small, some large, some medium-sized. I wielded a wheelbarrow made of iron and oak with a wooden wheel. My cousin Eddy used his Tonka truck, pushing it along, crawling through the dirt. My next door neighbor, Caroline, had conscripted her brothers red Radio Flyer wagon, pulling it with grace and dignity. She was beautiful. I loved her, but she didn’t love me. She loved Ritchie the rich bastard who lived on the hill and didn’t even know she existed. It was pitiful, but someday she would be mine.
We were building the biggest pile of dirt in history. While we hauled the dirt, my little brother Klause and two of his friends dug it up and dumped it in our conveyances. Klause thought he was named after Santa Claus. He was fat and wore a fake beard and red lumberjack shirts and black patent leather boots year round. My mother nurtured his delusion by encouraging him to go “Ho, Ho, Ho” every few minutes. It got so bad that neighborhood kids would tell him what they wanted for Christmas!
Suddenly Klause’s shovel hit something with a hollow sound. He said “Ho, Ho, Ho” and hauled it out of the ground. It was an old ice chest—also called a “cooler.” It said “July 1951 Time Capsule” across the top in black paint. We opened it to see what was inside.
We found a big tube of “Off!” insect repellent, a replica of General MacArthur’s corn cob pipe, a picture of the “Thing from Another World,” a tube of “Super Glue,” a non-stick frying pan, “Backseat Bingo” instructions (rated R), a Tupperware hot dog container, an autographed picture of Marlon Brando, Pink capri pants, madras shorts, and more!
We gave up on the dirt pile. It was 1999, so our trove was pretty valuable. We assembled the collection in my falling-down detached garage. We put up flyers that said “Come see the return of 1951 in Johnny’s garage 50 cents.” It was a hit. Mainly grown ups came to see the exhibition. Then one day this big fat man with gold rings on his fingers, and smoking a cigar, walked into the garage and said “I’ll buy the whole lot.” So far, we had made $200 and weren’t about to sell until he said “I’ll give you $80,000.” We all yelled “Sold!”
That’s it. I used my share to pay for college. Now, I own an ice skating rink and a used car lot. My wife and I are quite happy and are expecting our 5th child. She’s the girl next door from the old days. By the way, I kept the box of Maypo from our trove. I don’t know why, but I have “I WANT MY MAYPO” tattooed across my chest backwards so I can read it in the mirror. I repeat it and it makes me feel assertive as I get ready to go to work at the car lot. My brother Klaus moved to Alaska.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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