Polyptoton (po-lyp-to’-ton): Repeating a word, but in a different form. Using a cognate of a given word in close proximity.
There were only two gummies left. The bag was soon to be emptied and I’d be in the bag—saying “Wow” too much, eating cups of strawberry yogurt, and wondering about things that bought me wasted time.
*How much wood could a woodchuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
*Why is the sky blue?
*Who is John Gault?
*Is that thing really alive?
This was nearly the last question I ever asked.i was in the jungle in Vietnam, stoned on my ass, smoking “Ho Chi Red,” the strongest pot in the world. It turned your brain inside out and squeezed all the reason out of it.
I had come to Vietnam to study a rare snail, accurately named the “Nixon Snail” by Vietnamese malacologists due markings on its shell that looked like Nixon’s face. It fed on an orchid known as “Dầy tớ của nhân” (servants of the people). Their roots ran deep and ensured that the underground waters of Vietnam ran their courses smoothly, providing ample water for farming, drinking, cooking, and sanitation. The Nixon Snail, if left unchecked would seriously disrupt the water supply.
I was there to figure out a way to control and eliminate the depredation of the Nixon Snails. I was down on my hands and knees crawling around on the jungle floor, all gummyfied, looking for Nixon snails to take back to my lab. Given my condition, I was struggling with reality when I saw what I thought was movement out of the corner of my eye. Holy shit! It was a goddamned Banded Krait, affectionately known as the “Two-Step” snake, because that’s how far you’d get after you were bitten. This isn’t true—10 Step is more accurate. If you were bitten by a Krait, it was likely you’ll travel home in a crate. Even though it is deadly, with its alternating black and yellow bands, it is quite beautiful.
I clapped my hands and it slithered away. I was relieved. Now I could return my attention to the snails munching away on a lily in front of me.
Without going into detail, I discovered if you yelled “Watergate” at the Nixon snails, they died instantly and fell the ground. Now, They weere harvested by peasants, baked in nước mắm, garlic sauce, and fatalii peppers. The snail meat is picked with bamboo toothpicks, served with rice, and washed down with 33 Beer.
This is what the angels eat in heaven. The “Servants of the People” lilies are saved. The waters flow, and the beer is great.
C-130s fly over the jungles daily with loudspeakers blaring “Nixon” and killing millions of snails. Older Vietnamese have always known how toxic Nixon was. He was an enemy of the people, with no soul, shame, or sense of Justice like the snail that bears his name.
Watergate!
The Daily Trope 