Ellipsis (el-lip’-sis): Omission of a word or short phrase easily understood in context.
Jeff: Count with me: 1, 2, . . . yup, that’s right, 3. But actually, I was gong to say four. What’s next is always a big question, I’m going to jump up and down now, and what will I do after that? Moo hoo ha ha ha. Here I go! Whoops! Your picture of mom is under my feet. Oh no! The frame broke and the picture tore. What would I do next? Sweep up the mess and threaten to push you out of your bedroom window if you tell mo?.
If you don’t stop crying I will strangle you. I want you to lure Lawrence Burnborn to our basement. Tell him you will give him Peanut Butter Cups and Peter Paul Mounds. He is such a pig that he would crawl through broken glass to get the candy.
Sister: Jeff, you have flipped your wig again. You must’ve stopped taking you meds. Remember what happened last time? You lit my three little hamsters—Iggy, Swiggy, and Ziggy—on fire and put on a flaming hamster juggling show. The show was a failure because you couldn’t get the hamsters to stay lit. They took you to Cortex Creek Rest Home, where you stayed 6 months. You were fine when you got out. It was the meds, the “Normalacyn.” You were diagnosed with “Quadra-Polartechinosis,” a complex condition with four shades of “crazy:” 1. Deep Landfill, 2. Totally Bummed, 3. Starting Up, 4. Running Wild. Now, I think you should go . . .
Jeff: Shut up you human slag heap! You are telling me what I already know, snot face. Now, just go and get Lawrence and bring him back here. In the meantime, I”ll check my electric drill and jar of sulphuric acid. Go get him! Now!
Sister came back in a half-hour. Lawrence was not with her. Jeff went berserk. He chased Sister around the basement with his drill whining. Sister ran back up the basement stairs. Her boyfriend “Nordic” Bill, a giant and Icelandic Exchange Student, was waiting. He was holding a Narwal tusk.
Jeff came up behind Sister and drilled her in the buttocks. He pulled out the drill and went for Nordic Bill. Bill was waiting for Jeff pointing the Narwal tusk in his direction. At the last second, Bill dropped the tusk and turned and ran. Now, Jeff’s father Strom showed up and pointed a double-barreled shotgun at Jeff.
Strom: Put down the drill. You’re headed back to Cortex Creek.
Jeff put the drill down, but picked up the Narwal tusk and pointed it at his father. His father shot hm in the head—firing both barrels. A creature that looked like a small turtle crawled out of Jeff’s mangled head. The ambulance arrived for Sister. The “turtle” skittered out the front door which had been left open by Strom when he rushed into the house. Strom never said a word to anybody about the turtle.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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