Periphrasis (per-if’-ra-sis): The substitution of a descriptive word or phrase for a proper name (a species of circumlocution); or, conversely, the use of a proper name as a shorthand to stand for qualities associate with it. (Circumlocutions are rhetorically useful as euphemisms, as a method of amplification, or to hint at something without stating it.)
Billy bit the big one when he was 15. He went sailing out a fifth story window when he bent over to see if he could see the tomato he had dropped that had missed Mr. Fryline’s head—at least, that’s what the police surmised from their investigation. I knew better. I had goosed Billy while he was leaning out the window. Billy flinched, lost his footing, and out the window he went, screaming until a loud thud marked the end of his life. I looked out the window and there was a twisted Billy with blood leaking out of his head. Ironically, the smooshed tomato was lying next to Billy’s head. It was sickening.
What I learned that day was it is possible to get away with murder. Nobody suspected me. I was Billy’s best friend. We did everything together and there had never been any animosity between us. Billy was put six feet under two days later. His funeral was beautiful. Mr. Fryline took some of the responsibility for Billy’s death: if the tomato hadn’t missed him, Billy would not have been looking for it. I thought about giving a speech, but all I could think to say was “I pushed him out the fu*king window. I killed him. It’s all my fault. Arrest me!” But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, and that grew the burden on my conscience, which was already heavy.
Then I started seeing Billy. He looked like a zombie. His funeral suit was ragged, his eyes had dark circles, and his teeth were falling out. He walked up to me with his arms outstretched saying Jimmy (my name) over and over. I soiled myself and ran, with him chasing me. When I got to my house, I turned around and he was gone. I took a shower and changed my clothes. I was so terrified that I decided to tell the police what really happened to Billy. I was sure it would clear my conscience, even if it landed me in jail.
I went to the Police Station and went to the desk. I started telling my story and the desk sergeant started laughing. Soon, all the police were gathered around me laughing. Suddenly Billy popped up from behind the desk, climbed up on in and jumped off head first and his neck made a popping sound when he hit the floor. Suddenly it was quiet and it was just me and the desk sergeant again. He asked me, “Are you ok? What was it that you wanted again?” I told him it was a parking ticket my dad had gotten and wanted to know whether we could write a check for the fine. He said, “No. Cash only.” I thanked him and left.
I haven’t seen Billy since the incident in the police station.
My conscience was still eating me up until a chubby little fairy appeared and buzzed around my head. She said, “It was an accident.” and tapped me on the forehead with her wand. Then, she buzzed out the window. She had cleared my conscience. I was free!
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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