Hyperbaton (hy-per’-ba-ton): 1. An inversion of normal word order. A generic term for a variety of figures involving transposition, it is sometimes synonymous with anastrophe. 2. Adding a word or thought to a sentence that is already semantically complete, thus drawing emphasis to the addition.
I was flying first-class to Newark, New Jersey from Kazakstan, a weird place. I was working in a diamond mine, handling millions of dollars worth of raw diamonds, every hour of every day I worked. I had a bodyguard named MELS—Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin. He had it tattooed to the fingers of his left hand. He chain smoked, carried an AK-47 and drank two shots of vodka for lunch every day. He was there to shoot me, or anybody else, who tried to steal diamonds. On average, he shot two desperate people per week. The bodies were run through a chipper and fed to the Kazakh Tazys—a breed of dog used for hunting and eating ground-up people. They hunt wolves, wild boars, foxes, badgers and people.
MELS owned three Tazys. Among other things, he used them to hunt thieves. When a thief was caught his Tazys would,p kill him, tearing him to shreds and preparing him for the chipper. One Tazy was named “Santa Claus” and the other was named “Ripper.” I could never get MELS To tell me why he named one of the dogs “Santa Claus.” When I asked him, he would say “Ho, Ho, Ho.” The third dog was named “Anonymous.” Except for “Ripper,” I think the other two dog’s names were jokes. but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want pressure MELS to tell me.
My job was a sort of quality control. As the diamonds went by on a conveyer belt, I would randomly pick one every ten minutes. I would check it for quality and infer the quality of the rest of the run from it. It was a pretty stupid way of doing quality control, but it was a very well-paying job with incredible perks. I had a free 3,000 square foot furnished condo, a two day work week, a BMW motorcycle, 12 “wives” imported from Sweden and Denmark, and a chauffeured limousine. Still, I was unhappy.
I had graduated with honors from The Gemological Institute of America. I wanted to work in New York’s “Diamond District.” Despite my education, I couldn’t get a job. I had a police record. I had been convicted of fraud for selling rhinestone jewelry to idiots. I had the pieces dangling inside my coat. I’d open my coat and say “Real diamonds cheap.” I made a good living off the rubes in Times Square. MELS showed up at the courthouse after my trial and after I’d paid the $200.00 fine. I don’t know why the court had been on lenient, but I wasn’t going to ask. MELS showed up at the courthouse after my trip and after I’d paid One of them was MELS. He pulled a pistol pointed at me and said “We go Kazakstan. Shut up and get in limo.” I had no luggage. We boarded an Aeroflot flight to Astana City. I fell in love with the place.
So, now, I was flying into Newark for my annual two-month vacation from the diamond mines. I had so much money I didn’t know what do do with it. So, I bought a house in New Jersey every time I came home for vacation. I owned 10 houses across North Jersey. They were vacant and it was fun to see what had happened to them since the last time I was there. When I got to house number three in Green Lakes, it looked like somebody was living in it—the lawn was mowed and it was freshly painted. I rang the bell and a beautiful woman answered the door. I said, “This is my house.” She laughed and said, “No it isn’t. I bought it from Edward Vanderblit three months ago.” It was my goddamn cousin Eddy-ba-diddy—a con artist extraordinaire. Poor woman, I thought, and decided to let it go.
I would take Eddy on a “vacation” to Kazakstan. He and MELS would go hiking, and Eddy would get lost, and the world would be a better place.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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