Epitheton (e-pith’-e-ton): Attributing to a person or thing a quality or description-sometimes by the simple addition of a descriptive adjective; sometimes through a descriptive or metaphorical apposition. (Note: If the description is given in place of the name, instead of in addition to it, it becomes antonomasia or periphrasis.)
Roger was like a crumpled up piece of paper that missed the wastebasket when it was thrown by a blind piano player composing a song about dread. Roger was always worried, peering around corners. Hiding behind trees. Taking out accidental death or dismemberment insurance policies on a weekly basis. His accumulated premiums were so high he could barely pay his rent, ate like a bird, and shopped for clothes at the Salvation Army Family Store. His latest “find” was a lime-green double breasted suit with bell bottom pants, a relic of the 60s. When he reached in one of the pants pockets the first time he wore it, he found a slip of paper with writing on it.
It said “Fu*k it. I’m so outta here. Headed to Cambodia forever. Peace, Tipsy.” We took the note to a handwriting expert and she confirmed that it was Tipsy Wow’s signature. Tipsy was the lead guitarist of the sixties rock band “Satan’s Polo Mallet.” He was the greatest guitarist of the time—Eric Clapton once said “I can’t hold a candle to Tipsy—he’ll put me in the dark every time.” Jimi Hendrix said “I wrote ‘Purple Haze for Tipsy.”
All of a sudden, mid-career and wildly successful, Tipsy had disappeared off the face of the earth. Everybody assumed he was dead and scammers sold his counterfeit ashes for $500 per ounce. His guitar was sold to Rod Steward for $1,000,000. But his signature lime green suit couldn’t be found. Now, Roger had found it, and together, we were going to find Tipsy.
We discovered that there was a Cambodia, Texas. Tipsy had grown up in Fried Egg, a very very small town only a few miles from Cambodia. Nine people lived there and they all were on Social Security. They spent their spare time square dancing and bass fishing, We had a TV news crew with us when we pulled into Cambodia, Texas. We were going to make a documentary on finding Tipsy.
Tipsy wasn’t there. He had never been there. Bad luck Roger had done it again. Now, we’re on a flight to Phnom Penh—the capital of Cambodia. We hoped to find Tipsy playing with a Cambodian cover band. There was one cover band playing in Phnom Penh. They were called “Tispy and the Fakers.” We went to the club where they were playing. It was called “Vodka Ice.” Once again, we were disappointed. The lead singer was Australian and covered Tipsy’s hit songs. We asked him if he’d ever met Tipsy. He sain “Sure mate. In fact he was here just last night.” That did it. We vowed to check out Vodka and Ice at night for as long as it took to get a glimpse of Tipsy. That was two years ago. Now, we have jobs as pedicab drivers. The pay’s not good, but it keeps us hangin’ on.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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