Mesarchia

Mesarchia (mes-ar’-chi-a): The repetition of the same word or words at the beginning and middle of successive sentences.

Trouble doubles when you try too hard. Trouble looks at you as you try something new. Trouble is a knot you try to unravel with clumsy fingers.

Trouble besets us everywhere—on a doorstep, in the bathroom, on the highway, at the movies, and around. This was how Billie Jean dealt with her unwanted pregnancy, nagging Michael Jackson, forcing him to write a song about it and share the song’s revenues with her.

I was no stranger to trouble. It started with having a tooth pulled when I was 12 years old. As a reward for not crying or screaming, the dentist gave me a silver dollar. I tried to buy some strawberry shoe strings with it at “Matola’s Atomic Candy.” It was the fifties and everything was atomic—atomic pizza, atomic socks, atomic Lima beans, atomic cigarettes, etc. etc.

Mr. Matola frowned when I handed him my silver dollar. He tapped on the counter and told me it was fake—he could tell by the sound. I went back to the dentist and told him the silver dollar he had given me was fake. He denied ever giving me anything, let alone, a silver dollar. He told me to get out of his office and come back when I had a cavity or something.

I reported him to the police, but I was the one who got in trouble for trying to pay for candy with counterfeit money. I was convicted of passing counterfeit money, fined $50.00 and received a suspended six-month sentence at juvenile hall. I had two months to pay the fine, and then, I’d be remanded to juvenile hall.

I was big—six-foot three. Even though I was only 12, I got a job as a bouncer at “Pokey’s Hole.” it was the sleaziest bar for 500 miles around. The things that went on there are unmentionable. I had almost accumulated $50 when the police raided Pokey’s. I was arrested, and for an array of reasons, was sent off to juvenile hall to serve my counterfeiting sentence.

Trouble is my middle name. I don’t know how to stay out of it. When I get out of juvenile hall, I plan on becoming a stick-up man. I’ve ordered a balaclava from L.L Bean.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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