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 hovering, a frozen pizza pie over, without a worry, the microwave oven. I was piloting a pizza with a mission, with a deep reservoir of talents proclaimed by my role: Recon Drone Pilot First Class, US Drone Force.
We kept the peace by surveilling the law enforcement community—at home and working; patrolling cities, towns sand hamlets on the lookout for hints of resurrection. Every home throughout our little corner of dystopia was required to have one screenless window open at all times so Corps drones could enter premises unrestrained.
The pizza drone was a favorite— it was a welcome guest in most homes—a non-threatening presence related to family festivities like birthdays or anniversaries—forms of homecoming celebrating bonds of blood, friendship, and marriage,
Because our food drones were edible, they had a mana-like presence, coming from the sky and sometimes feeding whole-sports stadiums filled with cheering believers grabbing buckets of fried chicken hovering before them, gathering information and providing tasty treats in return.
Tonight, as I hovered over the microwave I could see a big no-no resting in the living room. It looked like an innocent butterfly net, but it was actually a D-47 drone catcher issued to pathetic constituents by the opposition, whose motto was “Catch It-Do Not Eat It.” They alleged the drones were drugged, making willing dupes of supposedly free constituents who ate them.
They were right.
I inserted my pizza pie into the microwave’s specially designed pizza port. As it was zapped to life, it’s irresistible odor returned the family to normalcy, taking their pizza catcher outside and lighting it on fire, burning it to a crisp and crying, riddled with remorse for turning rogue and being conned by the opposition.
Of course, I was all for the Man. I had all the pizza I could eat, all the “truth” to digest, and solidarity with other mega-dupes glorying in the lies, injustice and the dictates of the infallible leader of the infallible regime.
All hail edible drones—mana from heaven, just desserts, like rainbows of oppression with pots full of deliciously prepared junk food beckoning at their ends.
Come and get it, boys and girls! You must try the cake!
The Daily Trope 