Epitheton (e-pith’-e-ton): Attributing to a person or thing a quality or description-sometimes by the simple addition of a descriptive adjective; sometimes through a descriptive or metaphorical apposition. (Note: If the description is given in place of the name, instead of in addition to it, it becomes antonomasia or periphrasis.)
Godzilla was coming. He didn’t breathe fire. He didn’t have scales. He didn’t have a tail. He didn’t have a window-shaking roar. He didn’t have claws. Well, what did he have? He had size, bulk, breadth—he was BIG. 7’9” tall, 520lbs., size 18 shoe, size 60 pants, XXXXXXXXL shirt. This guy was big & he lived next door. He liked to come over for a beer and a chat. He had broken 3 chairs, so I bought one on line from “Jolly Giants” a company specializing in products for big people.
Godzilla likes being called Godzilla. It felt weird calling him that. His real name was Larry, but he says it doesn’t “fit” him. Ha ha! He shops regularly at “Jolly Giants.” The latest thing he purchased was quite expensive. It was a car. Jolly Giants refers to its cars jokingly as “Big Wheels.” The cars are custom designed for big people. They have special heavy-duty shock absorbers, big doors and a high roof. The most interesting accommodation is inside the car. It only has a front seat, pushed all the way into where the back seat would usually be. The steering wheel is in the center of the dash board along with the instrument panel and foot pedals. It has leather seats, halogen lights, and moisture-activated wipers. Of course, the cup holder is gigantic. Controls for radio, door locks, windows and cruise control are located on the steering wheel.
Godzilla has recently gotten a girlfriend. She can’t weigh more that 100 pounds. Godzilla hauls her around like a sack of potatoes under his arm. That can’t be too comfortable for her, not to mention the looks she gets as Godzilla carts her around the mall. Once, some guy yelled “Go baby!” at her and she was unfazed. Maybe it’s like riding a camel. I talked to Godzilla about it and he told me she couldn’t keep up with him, even at his slowest speed. That’s why he carry’s her. That makes sense to me.
I can hear him coming up the walk. “Hi Godzilla! Hi Flo!” “Hi!” they say to me. Godzilla drops Flo on the couch, and sits in his giant chair. “Want a snack and a beer?” I ask. Godzilla say yes and Flo says no. I get Godzilla a beer—five cans of PBR poured in a fishbowl and a “Dino-Sized” five-pound bag of chips that are for large parties, but suffice for Godzilla’s snack food needs. Godzilla works as a bouncer at “Holy Pole,” a topless joint on the edge of town. He told me proudly of a “bounce” he made last Saturday. “There was this guy bugging one of our servers, sticking his hand down her pants to give her a tip. She raised the alarm and I made the scene. I picked the guy up by the head with one hand, swung him back and forth like a pendulum, and then let him go spinning like a cartwheel out the door where he needed an ambulance to take him home. I was so happy I could do that for our server.”
Godzilla and Flo left. I couldn’t help but think that Godzilla’s going to get busted for manslaughter sooner or later. I’ll probably be his lawyer.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).