Graecismus (gree-kis’-mus): Using Greek words, examples, or grammatical structures. Sometimes considered an affectation of erudition.
“The meticulous utlization of his parsmonious idealizations cut through the je ne sais quoi permeating his πάθος μουλιάζω quotidian ήθος.” This excerpt is taken from the saddest book ever written: “Pineapple On Pizza.” The Greek translates to pathos soaked quotidian ethos.” No matter what language it is translated into, it makes people cry, many of whom attempt suicide. Many people say it reminds them of a bleak falling sensation, and anguish- and anomie-inducing sobbing tribute to “What is Wrong With Everything Everywhere.”
Two characters are featured in the novel: Leonardo Pastenelli and Jane Doe. Leonardo’s family has been in the pizza business for 370 years. Jane comes from New Jersey where she had a lot of Italian friends. They hung out at Tardy’s a soda Fountain, which was like a bar for teenagers. The sodas had exotic names like “Tiger’s Claw,” and “Rumble Puddle.” The fountain was run by Charlie whose teeth were dotted with cavities.
Leonardo folds pizza boxes in his brother’s pizzaria, “Lorenzo’s Pizza.” Leonardo sees his box folding as a kind of Italian origami. No matter how many boxes he folds, he feels artistically fulfilled. Every time he finishes folding a box he yells “Machiavelli’s mother!” and stands up and grabs his wallet from his back pocket and holds up it to his forehead. Lorenzo had a few “talks” with Leonardo about his “bad habit” but he didn’t listen. Besides, the customers had started to look forward to it, clapping and cheering for Leonardo and sometimes chanting “Village idiot!” Leonardo was ecstatic with the attention he received and told Lorenzo he wanted a reduction in pay to make up for his joy. Lorenzo put Leonardo in the local mental institution “County Hospital Insane Asylum Wing.”
This is where Leonardo met Jane Doe. He wandered into the morgue where she was lying on a gurney with a name tag on her big toe and a bullet hole in her chest. When Leonardo looked her he realized he had been having dreams about her ever since he was a little boy. He started to sweat and shake all over. Held up the pizza box they let him bring into the hospital as a comfort toy.
This is where the story becomes totally spellbinding, with no wiggle room for speculative thinking about its trajectory.
Leonardo yells “Machiavelli’s mother!” They had taken his wallet, so he can’t complete his pizza-box ritual. But Jane sits up on her gurney anyway. Leonardo’s yelling brought her out of a coma that had been mistaken by the doctors as death. The doctors are confused and look at each other.
Jane smells like she’s been dead for a month, curled up on the ground somewhere in a warm place. There are were even some maggots congregating around her eye sockets!
Leonardo brushes off the maggots and kisses Jane. Two of her teeth fall out and Leonardo wraps them in his handkerchief.
Leonardo decides he and Jane are going to escape from the County Hospital and maybe open their own pizza parlor. But first, he must ask Jane how she ended up in the County Hospital. She hesitates, clutches her handkerchief, and then she opens up to him: “I was a serial . . .”
POSTSCRIPT
I’m sorry. I can’t write any more. I am crying. You’ll have to buy a copy of “Pineapple On Pizza” to find out how the story plays out. For your own safety and mental health, you should probably walk away from “Pineapple On Pizza” right now and never think about it ever again.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu
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