Hyperbaton (hy-per’-ba-ton): 1. An inversion of normal word order. A generic term for a variety of figures involving transposition, it is sometimes synonymous with anastrophe. 2. Adding a word or thought to a sentence that is already semantically complete, thus drawing emphasis to the addition.
I knew things weren’t going right—catastrophic, cataclysmic, disastrous. It made me remember a joke my uncle Earnhardt had told me: “Q; What happened when the woman was hit by a a train? A: Disaster.” A cheap pun for “dis-assed her.” Just like I did when I was nine, the joke made me laugh, but it couldn’t erase what was going on before my eyes: my 1946 Cadillac had a rust spot on the right front fender. As a collector of vintage cars, this was like a one-way street to hell.
The spot wasn’t there yesterday. It must’ve taken hold during the night. My worst nightmare was starting to unfold: a rust war. Yes, a full-blown Rust War. Caesar Voletick was on the rampage again. We were the two most revered car collectors in the United States. As such, you’d think we would be friends. Instead Voletick has constructed himself as a competitor. He plagued my peaceful collection with his antics. I knew it was him, but I couldn’t catch him vexing my collection with spray paint, keying, denting, and now, rusting my beautiful cars.
I had heard that Voletick had hired a brilliant renegade chemist named Micky Curie, who had been denied tenure at MIT. While on the faculty, he had developed a mold that instantly aged cheddar cheese. It could no longer be advertised as “Aged 10 Years” on the packaging. This was detrimental to cheddar cheese sales: people wanted 10-year-old cheese, and that was final. Kraft cheese is one of MIT’s biggest donors. Accordingly, MIT told Curie to give up his mold patent and cease from producing “Quick Cheese.” Citing academic freedom he refused and he was denied tenure.
Curie was furious. He vowed to invent things in the future that only did harm. The first invention was a candy coating that indelibly dyed peoples’ lips when they consumed jaw breakers.
Curie’s most recent invention (of course) is “Rust-On.” You use a paintbrush to apply it. You paint it on and a rust spot instantly appears. That’s what had happened to my Cadillac and fifty more cars of my 200-car collection.
I met with Curie and cut a deal to hire him, and also, help him wreak revenge on MIT for what it had done to him. But first, we had to take care of Voletick. We rented a “Water Scooper” airplane from the US Forest Service. We filled a small pond with “Rust-On” and scooped it up. Then, we “bombed” Voletick’s car collection, turning the two-acre parking lot into a rust-scape of destroyed vehicles. Voletick, was in poor physical condition, and died of a heart attack when he saw the mess. Too bad Voletick. Ha! Ha!
Now, I needed to follow through on my offer to help with Curie’s revenge. I provided the financial backing and Curie provided the brains. After four moths of arduous research, Curie developed what he called “Stupid-Ass Spray.” it was delivered as a mist and anybody who inhaled a single tiny drop became stupid. We hired a cadre of ex-ICE agents to mist the halls of MIT with “Stupid-Ass Spray.” They were successful in their mission—rendering MIT stupid.
Given the new stupidity of MIT, it lost its accreditation, and then, its donor base. It declared bankruptcy and was sold at auction to Kraft Cheese.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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