Asteismus (as-te-is’-mus): Polite or genteel mockery. More specifically, a figure of reply in which the answerer catches a certain word and throws it back to the first speaker with an unexpected twist. Less frequently, a witty use of allegory or comparison, such as when a literal and an allegorical meaning are both implied.
Me: “Are you going to help me with the yard work?”
Moe: “I’ll help you remember I’m going to the shore today. You can help yourself to the yard.”
Once again, Moe had wiggled his was way out of a chore. What really got me were his wise-ass quips. They were funny, but they were also infuriating.
We shared a three bedroom house on a quiet street. We had bought it together as an investment. That was my second mistake. My fist mistake was assuming that Moe would help with the property’s upkeep. Since we were co-owners I couldn’t just give him the boot, or move out myself. Too much was at stake financially.
So, I decided to have the locks changed on the doors and get him to sign a legal document to regain access to the property. It wasn’t legal and it probably wouldn’t hold up in court, but it would send a message.
After the locks were changed, and he came home, we argued on the front porch. Eventually he apologized! I was shocked, but he promised to hold up “his end of the bargain” from that day forward.
He put a sign on the front lawn that said “Wanted. All-Around Handy Person. Wash dishes, clean house, mow lawn, wash car, cook breakfast, make lunch, cook dinner, do laundry, other tasks as required. Live-in.”
He was going to pay somebody to take care of every possible chore! Moe was off the hook and his handy-person would take care of everything at no cost to me!
Moe said he was going to pay for the extra help by getting a part time job at “Larry’s Pizzeria.” One of the perks was all the pizza he could eat. He hired some guy named Melrose as handy-person, and we all had pizza with a different topping every night for dinner.
Melrose fed us corn flakes and water and coffee every morning, and peanut butter and no jelly sandwiches and water and coffee for lunch every day. Along with the pizza every night, we had three healthy meals per day, and the lawn was neatly cut in summer and the sidewalks and driveway shoveled in winter. The cars were always spotless, down to the vacuumed carpets. Clothes were cleaned and folded. The house was immaculate—including the bathroom’s shining porcelain. You could eat off the kitchen floor. It was too good to be true, and it was.
Melrose was slowly poisoning us.
Moe’s hair was falling out, and so was mine. Our gums were bleeding and we felt dizzy all the time. We went to our doctors, got diagnosed, and went to the police. Melrose was arrested for attempted murder and is currently serving a life sentence in “Harmony State Prison.”
Moe and I both recovered and were back to the same old bullshit. After all we went through, Moe still always finds an excuse to evade responsibility. The one concession he has made is to do the cooking himself, to avoid being poisoned again. I do everything else. That’s fine with me. Moe’s taking courses in “culinary arts” at County Community College. I have a check-up every month to make sure Moe’s not slowly poisoning me. That’s a small price to pay for Moe’s fabulous cuisine.
I said to Moe: “It’s good to finally see you get off your ass and take care of business.” Moe responded: “Yeah. Now you can get off my ass and mind your own business.”
