Epergesis (e-per-gee’-sis): Interposing an apposition, often in order to clarify what has just been stated.
Mt dog, Barfo, liked to chase anything that moves. He is no longer with us. He was run over by an e-bike racing another e-bike on my quiet little street. I buried Barfo in my back yard next to Woofie, Ding, Patsy, and Saturn. All good dogs, all dead.
Was it me? Was I a bad pet owner? Five dogs down in as many months didn’t bode well for my next dog.
I headed for the dog pound to pick out my next dog. The manager said “Another one bit the dust, right?” “Right!” I said and proceeded to “shop” for a dog. I picked what looked a Collie/ Beagle mix. He almost looked like an Afghan. I named him Mr. Picker after my cruel boss. He seemed to like that name & I loved calling him. When I yelled “Here Mr. Picker,” my heart leapt with joy. It was my way of getting back at my boss. It felt good demeaning him that way.
Then, one evening the shit hit the fan.
I had left my cellphone at work. I was about to go back to the office and retrieve it when my doorbell rang. I opened the door. It was Mr. Picker standing there with my cellphone. I said “Mr. Piker!” Like I was happy and surprised. Before he could say anything Mr. Picker jumped up and put his paws on Mr.Picker‘s shoulders. Without thinking, I yelled “Down Mr. Piker, bad dog.”
Mr. Piker said “What?” as he brushed off his jacket. I told him I named my dog after him because of his loyalty to his employees. The name was meant to be honorific. I would be reminded of him every time I called the dog. It would be edifying.
Mr. Piker punched me in the nose and broke it. I sued him for $200,000 and won. It was determined that a boss was not allowed to punch a worker even though they were not in the office. Moreover, Mr. Piker was not allowed to fire me because I named my dog after him—it was a free speech issue.
From then on Mr. Piker mandated that we all call him by his first name, Orson.
Now I work in the mailroom way down in the basement. I am isolated and happy. I never cross paths with Orson. For that I am grateful!
The Daily Trope 