Epicrisis (e-pi-cri’-sis): When a speaker quotes a certain passage and makes comment upon it.
Related figures: anamenesis–calling to memory past matters. More specifically, citing a past author from memory–and chreia (from the Greek chreiodes, “useful”) . . . “a brief reminiscence referring to some person in a pithy form for the purpose of edification.” It takes the form of an anecdotethat reports either a saying, an edifying action, or both.
“If you’re happy and you know it, and you really want to show it, clap your hands.” I was happy and I knew it, but I didn’t want to show it, so I didn’t clap my hands. Everybody else in Ms. Wingly’s seventh grade class clapped their hands. Ms. Wingly looked at me angrily, “Clap your hands John!” Instead, I pounded my fist on my desk. I was sick of Bossy Wingly always telling me what to do—from arithmetic to clapping my hands. She had given us an option on the hand clapping, emphasizing “if” as in “if you really want to show it.” I told her she had she given me a choice, and I took it. “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
Ms. Wingly said, “Here’s a hall pass. Go to the Principal’s Office right now! No dilly-dallying! Tell him you acted unwisely, refusing to display positive emotions by clapping, as I commanded. Give this note to Him upon your arrival. Do not read it! Now, Go!”
The first thing I did when I got out the door was tear open the note and read. It said: “Darling Pimpy, This boy has done nothing wrong. I tested positive this morning. There are certain kinds of operations that have recently made illegal here. Please buy me a plane ticket to New York. I hope your wife is feeling well. Your Perky Little Substitute, Winnifred.” There was no doubt Ms. Wingly had flipped out, trusting me not to read her note. I was notoriously “bad” and could not be trusted for anything. I don’t know why I did it, but I turned around and went back to my classroom. The door was locked so I held the opened note up to its window. Ms. Wingly was at her desk so she saw me holding up the note. She stood up abruptly and stumbled over the trash can by her desk. She hit the floor hard and was knocked unconscious. I called 911 on my new cell phone and she was taken away on a stretcher. There was a gawking crowd around the classroom door. It included Principal. Pimpyton. I read him Ms. Wingly’s note and he tried to grab it. He couldn’t catch me. He groaned and made a gurgling sound and turned and ran out of the building. He had a big wet stain on the back of his pants. He won’t be clapping his hand anytime soon. I feel sorry for Ms. Wingly. She’s beyond stupid. Her biggest mistake was trusting me. I bought her flowers.
POSTSCRIPT
Ms. Wingly’s “Note” has turned out to be something like money—I use it to buy things I want. I wave it at Principal Pimpyton and say something like “One carton of Marlboro 27’s please.” He goes to Cliff’s and meets on the playground 15 minutes later with the “goods.” Ms. Wingly disappeared. I heard somebody saw her sitting on a piece of cardboard in Times Square smiling and clapping her hands. I hope her operation was a success.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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