Antimetabole (an’-ti-me-ta’-bo-lee): Repetition of words, in successive clauses, in reverse grammatical order.
It likes you. You like it. “Lovey Lax” works every time. As a chronically constipated bus driver, it is my saving grace. It ensures that I go before I go to work—I can’t poop on the bus, or pull over to use a public restroom. Before I was graced with “Lovey Lax,” I had a number of accidents that nearly lost me my job. One day I “went” in my bus driver pants. I didn’t know what to do. Passengers were coughing and yelling “What stinks?” I sat there with hot poop squishing from my bus driver pants, trying to act nonchalant, until I couldn’t stand it any more. I stood up and tore off my pants and threw them out the window, hitting a passing cyclist in the face. As he lost control of his bike, he ran into a mailbox and hit the pavement. I called 911 and they thought my call was a prank. I gave up and took off for my next stop. I got five feet, and all the passengers rushed the door and demanded to be let off. I told them I’d let them off at the next stop, but one of them grabbed the bus’s key, turned off the ignition, and took off out the door.
I had to be towed back to the bus depot. My boss gave me a clean pair of pants and told me he wouldn’t fire me if I did a good job of “cleaning up the shit.” I had to buy the cleaning materials out of my paycheck. When I was done, the bus was immaculate. I kept my job. I started wearing adult diapers. With my poo-poo roulette, I never knew when the time would come, so the diapers were a real help. The only problem was if I had an “event” early in my shift—I’d have to sit on it all day. You can imagine how that felt!
Then, I subscribed to AARP magazine. I was reading an article about the top ten bowel movers. The one with the highest ratings for “ease of movement” and “predicability” was “Lovey Lax.” It was endorsed by David Hasselhoff, Eric Estrada, and Keith Richards, three idols from my youth. Estrada said: “I can ride my motorcycle from Pacific Grove to Carmel without worrying about making a mess.” This was just what I needed to hear! I went on line and bought a fifty-gallon drum of “Lovey Lax.” It was delivered the next day and I became regular for the first time in 10 years. I cried when the doorbell rang and the delivery person wheeled my hopes and dreams in a drum through the front door. I take one minty spoonful at night when I go to bed. When I wake up, I hear my stomach gurgling. Then, after breakfast and 2 cups of coffee, I make my morning dash to the toilet. That’s it. The quality of my life has improved more than you can imagine. And there’s a side benefit: I haven’t farted for a year. I miss farting a little bit, but not enough to really care.
I’m shopping for a bidet now. With the heated seat, flood of warm water, and blow dryer, my “movements” will be well-orchestrated from beginning to end. Just call me “the maestro”!
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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