Paragoge (par-a-go’-ge): The addition of a letter or syllable to the end of a word. A kind of metaplasm.
I was tired of being called “Bucky” when my given name was “Buck.” My father was an investment banker, so my parents named me Buck. It would’ve been better if they had named me “Bill,” short for dollar bill, or “Cash” like “Johnny Cash.” But no, they named me “Buck.” People thought that adding a “y” to my name was a sign of friendship—of endearment. Even my parents called me “Bucky.” “Time for dinner Bucky.” How many times had I heard that? Countless!
Bullies called me “Bucky Beaver,” after the smiling beaver who was a toothpaste mascot. His motto was “Brusha, brusha, brusha.” That’s what the bully Porkok (Pork-ok) Giles would yell at me when I came into range. Although his first name could easily be made into some kind of taunt, I was afraid to do so. Porkok was a thug and would probably beat the shit out of me, or, even kill me. But, I was sick of his bullshit and decided to ambush him with a taunt.
In order to spare my life, I recorded the taunt and hid the recorder in the bushes he passed every day on the way to school. It had a blue tooth control that I could use to turn on the player while hiding in the bushes across the street.
He was coming, as he passed the bushes, I turned on the player: “Poorcock, Poorcock, can’t be hard as a rock!”
I got him!
He stopped and looked around. He found the player in the bushes and stomped it into the pavement. “I know it’s you Bucky. I’d recognize your whiny girly voice anywhere. Show yourself so I can kill you.” I ran home. I was dead meat. Eventually, Porkok would find me and kill me, most likely at school.
He found me and pinned me up against my locker. He had a beaver costume. He told me if I wore it for the rest of the year, he would spare my life. I put it on. I wear it all, day and hang it in my locker when the school day is over, and put it back on the next morning when I come to school.
Believe it or not, I’ve become the new school mascot. The old mascot was a garden gnome. It was chosen as the school mascot when our town was known for growing flowers. Flower-growing ended 50 years ago. 1,000s of beavers have moved into the wetlands surrounding our town. We ate their tails and wore their fur. It was inevitable that the beaver would become the school mascot—not only was it good to eat with warm soft fur, it was industrious.
I served out my beaver costume sentence. As school mascot I donned it for school sporting events. Our school cheer was “Beavers, beavers, woo, woo, woo, the beaver team will dam up you!” I would lead the cheer. One evening I spotted Porkok in the stands. He was cheering with everybody else. He looked straight at me and reached into his jacket like he was going for a gun.
After the game he met me outside the gym. He reached into his jacket. I braced myself for the bullet, but he pulled a pint bottle of whiskey out of his jacket. We toasted “peace” and laughed a little bit. He said “Here’s to you Bucky.” I said “Here’s to you Bad Cock.” We laughed some more and went our separate ways.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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