Anacoenosis

Anacoenosis (an’-a-ko-en-os’-is): Asking the opinion or judgment of the judges or audience, usually implying their common interest with the speaker in the matter [and illustrating their communally-held ideals of truth, justice, goodness and beauty, for better and for worse].

How many of us want to hike the Appalachian Trail? Yeah! All right! Me and Cammy! The rest of you losers can go home and think about what it means to be a Flamingo Scoout—“Pink, pink have another drink and drive somewhere.” Cammy and I are going to polish off this bottle of MD-40 and drive to the trail head in North Jersey.

I was already half-crocked, but duty called. We would walk to Maine. Piece of cake.

Driving to the trailhead I swerved off the road and flipped my car. Cammy was’t wearing a seat belt and looked dead. He had been thrown out of the car and was impaled on a mileage marker. I called 911 and reported the accident. Then I took off for the trailhead. I was a Flamingo Scout. It was too bad about Cammy, but I would not be deterred. I sat down to smoke a joint, but I heard sirens off in the distance. I got moving and came to the trailhead. It was almost straight up to the trail. I got about 50 feet and had to take a rest. I was 6 feet tall and weighed 242 pounds. I could barely fit in my Flamingo Scout uniform any more. I stood up to resume my trek and heard a click in my back pocket and a shooting pain in my ass. My Flamingo Scout OTF switchblade had been triggered and shot its blade in my ass. I felt my butt cheek and it was wet with blood.

To make things worse, a bullhorn yelled from down the hill: “Scoutmaster Vector, this is the State Police. Come down to the trailhead. Come down to the trailhead.” I cupped my hands and yelled “I’ll be right down.” I did not make it. I bled to death before I got there. I know this is an unexpected twist to my story but just bear with me.

POSTSCRIPT

I am now known as the “Trailhead Ghost.” If you have a folding knife in your pocket when you walk past me, it may pop open and you may bleed to death. As a ghost, I really don’t know how I ended up with this job. It is really gross. I am petitioning the Ghost Commission to have the knives I affect turn into rubber and become harmless. I have a lawyer who specializes in these kind of “matter transformation” cases. “Pinnochio” is his most famous case, where Pinocchio was judged eligible to be transformed from wood to flesh. Accordingly, I think metal to rubber will be allowed by the Commission.

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

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