Epitasis

Epitasis (e-pit’-a-sis): The addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated. A kind of amplification. [The opposite of anesis.]

My balls wouldn’t stop itching. I took showers. I sprayed on Lotrimin, I changed my underpants three times a day. I went to a dermatologist. He gave me some blue cream that smelled like rutabagas. It didn’t do anything but stink up my crotch. Nothing worked. My balls wouldn’t stop itching.

I did some research on a Chinese commercial website called “Send Money Credit Card.” I found a “device” that was supposed to “stop the balls itching.” It was guaranteed to “cure itchy balls in people and dogs.” It looked like some kind of clamp with wires sticking out of it and two electrodes. I figured there was one electrode for each ball. The catalogue copy read: “Having the balls that itch? No more now! Clamp balls. Plug in wall! Balls smoke a little. Itch gone! Put balls in ice pack. All done. $295.00.”

I bought one of the devices. I was truly desperate. It was called the “No Scratch Balls Clamper.” it arrived one week later. I took it out of the package. The instructions were difficult to follow. I took off my pants, sat on the edge of my bed and tried to clamp it on my balls. There was a little silver hook that plugged into one of three slots. I found the right slot and the clamp was on. I unplugged the clock radio by my bed and plugged in the Clamper.

My balls were being electrocuted!

I couldn’t turn off the Clamper and couldn’t get it unplugged. My balls felt like they were on fire. Suddenly, I got a text message. I picked my phone up off the night stand. The message said: “hello electric ball! I monitor you from China. I have you credit card number and will charge $1,000 to let go your balls by remote. Don’t complain or your balls stuck electric forever.”

I was being extorted for $1, 000 to set my balls free! I felt like I was dying, so I agreed. I texted back “take money.” Almost immediately, the clamp popped open and I was freed. When the clamp first came off, my balls were swollen to the size of croquet balls. They quickly returned to normal and started itching again. I wanted to cry. I checked my credit card balance. It had been charged $1,000 for “get free.” I sat there scratching my balls and wondering what to do next.

Anyway, my daughter recommended I go to an herbalist for my balls. It was embarrassing to talk to her about it, but my daughter always gave good advice. The herbalist’s name was Ms. Carrot. I thought that was weird, but who am I the judge? She gave me capsules. I take one per day. The itch is cured. My balls swing free.

Although I only have two balls, they remind me of the pawn shop symbol,

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

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