Hysterologia (his-ter-o-lo’-gi-a): A form of hyperbaton or parenthesis in which one interposes a phrase between a preposition and its object. Also, a synonym for hysteron proteron.
I was flying, in the middle of the night, over the pool hall. I could hear the pool balls smacking into each other from 100 feet. I could hear them being racked up and poked by a pool cue—well-chalked and ready for action, like me.
Although I was a superhero with superpowers, I was not all that interested in thwarting robberies and murders, and saving people from natural disasters like earthquakes, or from things like being held hostage, drowning, or choking to death.
I preferred, instead, using my superpowers to win at pool, dice, and blackjack. When I walked into Rosie’s Pool Hall there was a notable sigh. Everybody put their cues down and started to leave. They had all lost to me so many times that they were no longer interested in competing against me. I fixed that. I looked at a beautiful young woman and said “Buddy-bye and tweedle dee, you will play pool with me.” My superpowers made my pool spell work every time. She nodded her head and said “Yes master. I will play one game of eight-ball for $5,000.” I laughed. It was money in my pocket, so I agreed.
She beat me.
I had to fork over the $5,000. Unbeknownst to me when I had picked her out that she was the goddess Fortuna able to summon good luck to all of her competitive enterprises—not only for games, but for life-in-general. I wasn’t surprised. As a super hero, I frequently crossed paths with deities, mostly from the ancient Greek and Roman pantheon. I came from another planet, so they found me interesting. I teamed up with Fortuna for a while. She got a red-spandex body suit that matched mine. I learned that there’s more to being a superhero than winning games all the time. I became a better superhero.
I phoned my dad on Zoomidoor and told him that I was maturing and that I had fallen in love with Fortuna. He told me to watch out—all fortune isn’t good fortune—there’s misfortune too. As soon as he said that, my red spandex body suit disappeared and I was wearing overhauls that smelled like cow shit standing in a pen. I was shocked and started crying. Suddenly, Fortuna was hovering above me. I was saved! So I thought.
Fortuna said, “Bad luck is the other side of good luck and good luck is the other side of bad luck. Both are temporary, changing places as they will. There’s nothing you can do anything about it. There’s nothing I can do about it.” Then, she disappeared.
She was full of shit. She could give back my good luck if she wanted to. I never should’ve dumped Fortuna for Fama—the goddess of rumor and fame. It was short-sighted. Now, by the good graces of Fama, I’m famous for the productivity of my milk cows. I guess that’s some kind of good luck, but not much.
I cursed Fortuna and my barn went up in flames.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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