Ecphonesis (ec-pho-nee’-sis): An emotional exclamation.
“I love you Bettina! I love you more than ice cream, butterflies, and Spam. I can’t help myself. I can’t sleep at night. I want to be by your side night and day, day and night, all of the time. I feel dead when you go away! Tell me you you love me too so I can keep on living! If you don’t love me I’ll drive my car into a bridge abutment at 80 MPH, I’ll drink Clorox and light myself on fire. I love you! I love you. I love you. You are a magnet and so am I. You are more precious than gold, silver and platinum melted together in a friendship ring. I love you!”
I wrote the passage above this morning. I will read it to Bettina if she answers her phone. She can’t be unavailable forever. She must be real busy to turn off her phone, or let it go dead.
I’m pulling out all stops on my Wurlitzer of love. I got Bettina’s phone number when I delivered a sausage pizza to her front door. It was on the receipt taped to the box. When she held out her hands to take the pizza box it was like she wanted to hug me, but the box was in the way.
I am 49 years old and live with my parents. They will die soon and I will inherit everything. My dad sold used cars, so he’s got a lot of money squirreled away. Mom was an Avon Lady. Among her customers were Betty Ford and Merle Haggard. They’d fly her in for “catch up” sales sessions and demonstrations of new products. Unfortunately, Mom got caught embezzling, and was discharged by Avon, and spent six months in jail. I pitied her, but she deserved the punishment. After that, she worked for Dad washing and waxing cars, so technically, they shared the car lot’s wealth.
When I inherit my money, I will go to Bettina’s front door with a pizza box filled with hundred dollar bills. Surely, it will be love at first sight for the money and me. if I haven’t already, I will read my message of love to her. She will tell me she loves me too.
Woah Nelly!
I am getting way ahead of myself here! Some people say I’m a dreamer and the job at Pepe’s Pizza has made me even worse. I admit, I have tried to strike up 37 romances with female costumers. Only one had results—a restraining order. All the of the rest of the women totally ignored me, and eventually, I gave up. But, like I said, I’m a dreamin’ man. In fact, one of the women I reached out to said to me “In your dreams asshole.”
She knew.
