Catachresis (kat-a-kree’-sis): The use of a word in a context that differs from its proper application. This figure is generally considered a vice; however, Quintilian defends its use as a way by which one adapts existing terms to applications where a proper term does not exist.
I was living the high life; caviar for breakfast, caviar for lunch, pickled herring for dinner. My mouth smelled like a Bangkok fish market at high noon. But, I was living the high life—high like a pizza pie up in the sky—it was amore all the way. It didn’t have to hit me in the eye to tell me I was rich.
I smeared some caviar on my face and dumped some of the herring’s wine vinegar on my head. Since I had won the lotto, I could pretty much do and say what I wanted to do and say. I was like a convertible with its top down in the rain, a Carolina Wren sitting on a barbed wire fence, a boil about to be lanced. I didn’t care, but I wanted to care.
I went on line to dating site titled “Mister Bates.” it costs $6,000 per date on line. Delivered to your doorstep, your “date” was $10.000. It was a ripoff, but I had enough money to pay off the national debt: I had won the “Yogi Berra Lotto.” You had to squat-to-play. But, if you won, you won “untold wealth” promising that you’d make no more “wrong mistakes.”
My $10,000 option was knocking on my door like a woodpecker in heat. I opened the door and she hit me in the nose with her next knock. My nose was bleeding like a broken dishwasher—leaking all over my caviar stained Tarzan bathrobe that I had just purchased at the Salvation Army Gift Store out on Rte. 10, near the Ledgewood Circle.
I suddenly stopped bleeding and got a good look at her. I would’ve paid $30,000 for what I saw. I was a sucker, but I didn’t care. I had enough money to buy Nee Jersey and replace the Parkway, all in one shot. I called my friend, Father Thouthiney. I wanted to get married. My $10,000 dollar woman was named Whimsy—and wow—was she whimsical—she was like a little ant dancing on the head of nail. Don’t me wrong—she is full size, just right, like Goldilocks’s third tries. We got married ( Father Thouthiney brought a notary with him).
I have no friends, so the four of us pulled up to the dining room table and feasted on caviar and herring, spread on, and wrapped in, Wonder Bread. We washed it all down with Yoo Hoo, chanting “Me-hee for Yoo Hoo!”
It was and will be bliss. Tons of money make the future as bright as a search light showing the way to San Jose at 2:00a.m.
So what if I’m as shallow as a puddle, or as tasteless as oxygen, or as thoughtful as a clam, or as sensitive as a sloth? I’m batting 1.000 in the game of life & nothing else matters.
