Prozeugma (pro-zoog’-ma): A series of clauses in which the verb employed in the first is elided (and thus implied) in the others.
Today I’m going to the grocery store. I’m out of pita chips. And next to the pet cemetary to visit Buffo my long-dead pet box turtle who they say died trying to save my life when I wandered into the street. He was squished flat by the Good Humor man ice cream truck. It was disgusting. It gave me PTSD. And next to the crayon factory where I used to work—where they unfairly terminated me for “inventing” my own colors. I’m visiting my girlfriend who still works there as my undercover mole. I will be investigating different ways of torching the place. Right now I’m thinking “premium gasoline at dawn.” It has a dramatic flair, and of course, premium gas will make an inferno. And next to “The Raining Dog Bar and Grill.” There’s a stuffed German Shepard behind the bar. It takes up a lot of space, so it must be important. It has a clock mechanism that makes it slobber every hour. The slobbering triggers a 15-minute happy hour, where all of the worst drinks are half-price.
After doing my chores and errands, I arrived at the “Raining Dog.” I ordered a double Fireball martini with 2 acorns. The bartender told me it’s what squirrels drink before they run out in front of cars. I pretended I believed him just to see the look on his face. I drank 2 more martinis.
I was very drunk. I swallowed one of the acorns. It made me feel different. Holy shit! I had turned into a squirrel. I looked around and could see all these places where acorns were buried. it was like the Matrix. All I could do was sit on the curb and make a chattering noise. It was a cry for help. Then, a dog was coming toward me. It was on a leash, but still, I panicked and ran into the street. A beautiful woman on a bicycle ran over me. I knew I was going to die. I could barely breathe. The woman wrapped me in her scarf and we took off. We ended up at the landfill where she unwrapped me and threw me onto the garbage pile. Two hungry homeless people came by and saw me. They decided to eat me. When one of them picked me up something went “Snap!” In my back. I was miraculously restored. I bit the homeless man on the finger and scampered away. Believe it or not, the next morning I was me again. I had a little pain in my back, and a wicked hangover, but otherwise, I was well.
I wanted to find the woman who had thrown me on the landfill. I wanted to kill her. I hung out on the street where she ran me over. Then one day I saw her. I jumped in front of her bicycle and yelled “You would’ve killed me!” She slammed on her brakes and went over the handlebars. Immediately, I regretted what I had done. I helped her up and asked her if she wanted to go to “The Raining Dog” for a drink. She said “Not with you, creep!” So, I went by myself. I got half drunk and decided to eat dinner. Strangely, fried squirrel with carrots and squash were the night’s dinner special. It could’ve been me on the menu, I thought, as I disjointed a hind leg, pulled it off, and took a big bite of nicely done squirrel.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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