Category Archives: abating

Abating: English term for anesis: adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis (the addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated. A kind of amplification).

I was an influencer, but not the kind I wanted to be. I made people sick. I had terrible bad breath. I had a five foot radius. I was grateful for the Covid epidemic, when wearing a face mask was normal. It filtered my oral stench and I was able to get as close as one foot before the stench was barely detectable.

I was born with “Oral Stink Syndrome,” an extremely rare genetically-based medical condition. it is manifest as an inoperable cyst in the brain with a duct in the roof of the mouth dripping on the tongue. The smell is beyond words, but “rotting flesh” comes close. The best thing to temporarily quell the stench is smoking cigars. Accordingly, I smoke 10 cigars per day.. I prefer DeNobili cheroots—an Italian-style cigar that I’ve been smoking since I was eleven. When I was a kid, I had a physician’s note permitting me to smoke in school.

When I was a baby, my mother had a six-foot grabber-stick specially for bottle feeding me. She had a high-powered fan mounted on her chair so she could blow away my stink when she cuddled me for five minutes every day. She wore an Army surplus gas mask when she changed my diaper and took me for walks in my stroller. As I got older, I wore a laundry bag with two eye holes cut in it. It would filter the stink. We would go for walks. We called the laundry bag my “Ghost Suit.” I fit right in on Halloween. As I got older, I wore a balaclava with a filtered mouth hole. But, when the Pandemic hit, I discarded it in favor of a face mask. Besides, I was sick of being taken in by the police every time there was a robbery. When I took the baklava off in the police station for questioning, they would run away coughing from the stench. They never learned.

Now I wear nothing. Right after the pandemic, I went to a self help workshop: “Be Yourself Whimpo!” I was still wearing face mask. It was frayed and dirty.

When I sat down in the group, the Facilitator pointed at me and yelled “What are you, the Lone Ranger? Take off that mask and be yourself!” I was freaked out and ran out of the building. When I got outside, I yelled “Fu*k it!” and tore off the mask. This is actually how I came to go open-face: it wasn’t about post pandemic norms—it was about my lust to be me—to broadcast my otherness from my stinking mouth.

As I walked down the crowed sidewalk people got out of my way, retching. Nobody messed with me. When I said “Hi” people would double over and sometimes scream and faint. Once, a man ran into the street and was run over by a Fed-Ex truck. He was badly injured

I discovered from a similarly afflicted uncle that sheep are affected by his breath and he herds them for a living. He leads a solitary existence as a shepherd. He bothers nobody, and nobody bothers him. So, that’s what I do now. I am quite happy as a shepherd, but lonely too. I have volunteered to be a subject in a scientific study where they introduce a cyst-eating worm into my brain.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.

Daily Trope is available in an early edition on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Abating: English term for anesis: adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis (the addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated. A kind of amplification).

Spence was one of the smartest people I knew, but he smelled strongly of Brussels Sprouts and rotten eggs. It was bizarre. He had invented a new kind of glue—“Loopy Glue.” He put a drop on the roof of a Cadillac and lowered a junkyard magnet (turned off) to the roof. Then, he lifted the car ten feet into the air, using only “Loopy Glue.” The only problem was if you got the glue on your fingers they would be permanently glued together. Loopy Glue came with gloves, but if you didn’t wear them, woe unto you.

His second greatest accomplishment was genetically modified watermelons. At 6 tons, they were organic whoppers. Hollowed out, they made housing suitable for poor people. The watermelons’ rinds were engineered to last a lifetime. There is a watermelon housing tract near where I live. It is named “Meadowbridge Melon Park.” All the melon homes look exactly alike. That causes problems when residents come home drunk, or are suffering from the beginning stages of dementia, and go to the wrong house. But, there’s only been one death due to mistaken identity, and it was spousal. So, it was written off as “familial woes” and forgotten.

Now, Spence is working on something he calls “Brown Tooth.” It is a wireless suppository that monitors your colon. It transmits information on your “Fart Watch,” a mechanism you wear on your wrist that is humorously named for the flatulence that, among other things, your “Brown Tooth” monitors.

In addition to sounds, the “Brown Tooth” live streams rectal imagery to the “Fart Watch.” It comes with a booklet explaining the streamed images for the purpose of self-diagnosis. The major down-side to “Brown Tooth” is charging it. You have to wind the charger’s wire around your finger and probe around until you find the Brown Tooth’s charging socket. If you don’t mind paying extra, you will be able to get a charger with a tiny camera and light. Even though it will cost extra, it is far superior to poking blind.

Someday, Spence will surely hit it big. So far, the only real success he’s had are his origami chopstick rests. They come in an envelope on the table prior to the meal. The customer removes the unfolded origami from the envelope and following the instructions on the back of the envelope, folds the paper into a swan that the she or he can rest their chopsticks on. Recently, there has been a spin-off. The envelopes have been made into tags for gifts—the origami is an additional “surprise” in the envelope/tag. It remains to be seen how successful this will be. Maybe, if the tag has a discount coupon inside, it will become popular.

Anyway, even though he literally smells how hell probably smells, it is amazing to have Spence as a friend. If he didn’t stink, he would be the perfect buddy.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available in an early edition on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Abating: English term for anesis: adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis (the addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated. A kind of amplification).

“I love you, but not totally. I need to control my emotions or I’ll go berserk. I know I’m mentally unbalanced. On a good day, I can’t see the forest for the trees. On a bad day I want to burn the forest down and throw hand grenades at the fleeing animals. ‘Oops, there goes another problem ker-plop.‘ This is the way it ought to be Miss Pinkwell, but I’ll call you ‘ Barbara’ since we’re heading to Mexico to get married.”

Wow! What day. I had Barbara, my 8th grade English teacher, all taped up. She was wiggling around, obviously doing some kind of tantalizing love dance in the car’s front seat. I was going to knock her unconscious when we got to the border. I will untape her and put a blanket over her so she’d look like she’s sleeping.

Barbara is my first girlfriend ever (aside from my mom). I could tell she loved me when she would call on me and scold me for napping in class. But, when she crossed her legs under her desk, I couldn’t stop panting and crossing my own legs too. She kept me after class one day and told me I was weird and that she was going to recommend to Mom that I should go into psychological counseling “before it was too late.” It was already too late.

I broke into her house and covered her with duct tape. Then, we took her car and headed to Mexico to get married. We lived in San Diego, so the Mexican border was not that far. We would cross at Tijuana. I could see the border lights ahead so I whacked Barbara over the head with a tire iron I got out of the trunk, and rendered her unconscious. I untaped her and put a blanket over her as planned.

The US customs agent asked me why I was going to Mexico. I told him “Me and Barbara are going to get married.” I pointed at the “sleeping” Barbara. He looked surprised and told me to “Pull over there.”

Barbara was regaining consciousness and was yelling, “Save me! He’s a maniac!” The customs agent said “Son, you’re a little young for her. You better back off.” Barbara screamed again as two customs agents dragged her to a holding cell. She was going to be investigated for having a relationship with a minor.

I got back in Barbara’s car and crossed the border. I got a job selling balloons and fake Cuban cigars. Since I had disappeared, Barbara couldn’t be tried. She was released, but the story of our “love ride” had gotten back to Long Acres Middle School. she was ruined, but she married Bill Slothburger when he turned 18.

I was heartbroken.

Two weeks after they were married, Bill “fell” down a flight of stairs in their new home and died from a broken neck. I felt a sense of relief and was ready to give Barbara another try.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Abating: English term for anesis: adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis (the addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated. A kind of amplification).

“Put your hands up, or I’ll shoot!” Everybody put their hands up. Then I said, “I won’t actually shoot, but my buddy Pouncy here will beat the shit out of you and maybe stab you!” It worked like a charm. I called it the “old one two.” “One, the gun. Two, Pouncy.” Threatening to shoot people really gets their attention and that’s what I want when I’m robbing a convenience store at 3.00 a.m. I didn’t even own a gun. As a convicted felon with bipolar disorder I was not allowed to own a gun in New Jersey. I didn’t care. For backup, I had a toy Glock with the red plug pulled out of the barrel. It looked real. So real, it gave a guy a heart attack and killed him. That was something to be proud of—killing somebody with a fake gun. Pouncy didn’t have to beat anybody senseless that night. The dead guy on the floor did the trick.

Pouncy and I have successfully robbed 62 convenience stores in North Jersey—from “A&B Markets” to “Zelda’s Pantries.” We’re headed to “Groogles Bunk and Dunk” tonight. It’s a combination donut shop and motel—very high end. The cheapest donut is three dollars and it’s called the “Cheapy.” The most expensive donut is a whopping $125.00, and it’s called the “Circle of Love.” It is one-foot in diameter and garnished with carmel corn, chocolate kisses and edible pink and blue confetti. It is filled with ricotta cheese and raspberry jam. The donut’s dough is luminescent, glowing a light green color when you turn out the lights. For an extra five dollars you can get a candle. People give the donuts to each other to signify love on birthdays, anniversaries, and of course, Valentine’s Day. “The Circle of Love” was featured in a special edition of “National Geographic.” It was titled “Bizarre Things People Eat.” It included “Joe’s Roadkill Roundup” and “Muffet’s Battered Spiders.”

But anyway, this was a big night—our last heist in North Jersey. We were head through the Delaware Water Gap to Stroudsburg, PA, and then, down to Philadelphia.

We pulled up to Groogle’s. I took out my gun. We pulled down our Balaclavas and burst into the entrance. I waved my gun around and yelled, “Hands up or I’ll shoot!” Then I noticed everybody was wearing police uniforms. A big fat cop yelled “go fu*k yourself.” All the cops pulled their guns. One yelled “Welcome to my retirement party. assholes.”

That was it. Me and Pouncy were arrested and convicted of robbery armed with a fake gun. We’re serving our seven year sentences in Rahway State Prison. We’re up for parole next year. I can’t wait to start robbing convenience stores again.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.