Category Archives: paenismus

Paenismus (pai-nis’-mus): Expressing joy for blessings obtained or an evil avoided.

I was walking down the street when some guy jumped out of a 10th story window and missed landing on me by inches. He would’ve crushed me and killed me. I was stunned. His wallet had fallen out of his pocket and I picked it up before the crowd gathered. I was grateful to be alive and even more grateful for his wallet. My priorities were warped, but what the hell—this was New York.

The wallet was like a Christmas present I would open when I got to my “apartment,” which was a walk-in closet in my uncle Ted’s actual apartment. I rented the closet for $50.00 per month. I considered uncle Ted generous and kind—he even let me use the bathroom.

I got “home” and went to my “room.” I opened the wallet. It was empty. I tore it apart and there was a key underneath the coin purse. It had a number 480 on it and an address: 146 State St., Reno, NV. I didn’t know what to do. I had enough money for a one-way bus ticket to Reno. I was certain the key would lead to money. The guy was dead, so it wouldn’t matter to him if I grabbed his cash!

I got on my bus to Reno at Port Authority and headed west. There was a woman sitting by me wearing a mink coat. Given that we were on a bus and not flying first class to Reno, I thought she might have a story to tell. She told me her husband had caught he cheating with the guy from across the street, a policeman. She was naked when he caught her. Her husband told her to take the mink and get the hell out. He gave her bus fare to Reno to get a divorce. When night fell, she snuggled up by me. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, successively ceding it to people who needed it, until sunrise. The woman was lying across the seat. I poked her and she sat up. She asked if I would help her get some clothes. When we got to Reno, we went to a pawn shop. She took some clothes into the rest room, came out dressed and pawned her mink. She got $300.00 for it, paid for the clothes and we parted company.

I asked the proprietor where State Street is. He said “You’re on it man!” I asked him which way 146 was. He told me it would be right, but State Street ended at 145. I didn’t believe him, so I took off down the street. He was right, the street ended at 145, but the sidewalk kept going across the street. I crossed the street and looked down at the pavement. The sidewalk looked like it had a small keyhole in it. I took out my key, inserted it and turned it. The cement slab started slowly going down like an elevator. I hopped on it. Another slab slid shut above me as I went down. Lights came on when I reached the bottom.

The woman from the bus was there. She said she was glad to see me. Her teeth had become pointed. The man who had jumped out the window, with his brain hanging out, put his arm around her and said “Looks like we got another one with the ‘Dead Man’s Wallet Scam‘ honey. Fire up the barbecue!”

I was frozen in place and couldn’t move. They were going to eat me! Just then, I woke up in my closet. It was a nightmare. Then, I saw the mink coat alongside me on the floor. It was hers! I passed out.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Daily Trope is available in an early edition on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Paenismus (pai-nis’-mus): Expressing joy for blessings obtained or an evil avoided.

My car rolled over four times and caught on fire at the bottom of a ravine on Rte. 80 outside of Elko on my way to Salt Late City. I was going 109 mph—sunny day, dry pavement, unlimited visibility. I was haulin’ ass.

I worked for Morton Salt as a good-will ambassador, mainly at shopping malls in Nevada where I hand out salt shaker key rings and packets of salt. I also give away T-shirts imprinted with the Morton Salt logo. I had a company car, It was a two seater modeled like a salt shaker. It is built on a Corvette frame, with a Corvette engine.

I’d made the Salt Lake City run a hundred times without incident. Now my company car was a smoking twisted wreck and I was in the hospital. The Doctor laughed when he told me my whole body was broken. Although he was kidding, he was close.

I was lucky and grateful to be alive. I should’ve been dead and mangled like my car—looking like just another piece of roadkill stretched out on the road shoulder. But I wasn’t. I was in a hospital bed wearing a plaster sheath. My mouth and eyes and one hand showed and there were tubes inserted up my ass and penis. If I needed a nurse I was supposed to yell “Help!”

Some high school girl read to me. She was a volunteer and she told me all about how she was going to make the world “a better place for you and me.” She read Nancy Drew mysteries to me. They made me sick so I had her removed. She was replaced my a recovering alcoholic named Bitsy who told me stories about her fall from grace and lewd behavior when she was drunk. I loved it. Her stories lifted my spirits. My appetite improved and I wanted to go back to my former life. Bitsy understood and invited me to live with her. Then, unsuprisingly, I was told I was fired from Morton Salt.

I was devastated. I cried and cried. Then Bitsy recommended that I start my own salt company. I got a loan from my father and did it as soon as I was well. We named it “A Salt Gourmet Salt Company.” We leased a half-mile of the Great Salt Lake shore line and went into production.

I married Bitsy. She drowned in the tub one night when she was drunk. I inherited her considerable fortune and stopped making salt.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.

Paenismus (pai-nis’-mus): Expressing joy for blessings obtained or an evil avoided.

I couldn’t believe how lucky I was! I had won $5.00 on a “Take Five” scratch-off lotto ticket that I had purchased at Cliff’s for $1.00. “That’s a pretty good profit”, I thought, as I literally jumped for joy. I had heard about jumping for joy all my life, but I had never had a good enough reason to try. Now was the time. I was jumping up and down in Cliff’s parking lot. A police car pulled in and drove up in front me, flashed its roof lights and blew a short toot at me. The police officer got out of the car slowly and closed the door. I stopped jumping for joy.

He said, “Put your hands where I can see them. Ok, now, what are you doing?” I told him I was jumping for joy because I won $5.00 on a scratch-off lotto ticket. He asked “Jumping for joy? What the hell is that?” He put his hand on his gun and told me to empty my pockets on the ground and turn them inside out. He told me to put my wallet on the ground and kick it to him. He looked inside it and held up a photo that he found in it: “Who is this?” I told him it was my girlfriend Sharon. He said, “She looks pretty damned young to be your girlfriend.” I said, “She’s over 18.” He said, “Don’t be a wise guy, punk. It’s snotty-ass kids like you that piss me off.” I said, “I’m no kid. I’m 22.” “Ok loser, That does it. Put your hands behind your back.” He handcuffed me and pushed me into the patrol car. “Ok. So tell me now, what kind of drugs are you taking Mr. Jumping For Joy?” I told him I wasn’t taking any drugs. I asked him what was going on and he told me “You’ll see.”

When we entered the police station, all hell broke loose. Cops dove under their desks. Other cops ran out of the station’s rear exit. “Let him go!” Yelled a cop wearing a formal uniform with gold braids and ribbons. It looked like he was the Chief. The cop holding me said “I’ll let him go when you stop calling me ‘Patrolman Nutso’, you return my fur-lined handcuffs, and let me drink on the job. I’ve been riding around in that damned patrol car for a week—I smell, I’m hungry, I miss my cat.” “Ok. You have deal,” said the Chief.

He let me go. I felt like jumping for joy, but I didn’t want any more trouble. When I got to the other side of the room, everybody pulled guns. Patrolman Nutso pulled his gun, yelled, “You promised!” And took a shot at the chief, nicking him in the ear. All hell broke lose and Patrolman Nutso was filled with lead. The coroner determined he was shot 122 times. Nutso’s family sued the police for using excessive force. They won the lawsuit and a $6,000,000 judgment. When the verdict came in Nutso’s wife jumped for joy for about 10 seconds and then affected a serious demeanor in keeping with the proceedings.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.