Category Archives: syllepsis

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


She broke my heart and broke my bank account. I never should’ve given her my PIN number. Money, money, money was all she cared about. She asked me two of three times every day how my net worth was doing. She asked me why I didn’t leave more cash lying around. She said it was polite to leave stacks of twenties in the bathroom.

It was crazy but I loved her. I started leaving stacks of twenties in the bathroom. I could hear her squeal when she went in to take a leak. It was endearing and brought me lots of pleasure, and that’s what life is about. When we made love, she made me spread $100 bills on the mattress.

Her name was Susie Lou. When she left in the middle of the night she took my watch and chain, she took my diamond ring, she took the keys to my electric car—she jumped in my Tesla and drove real far. I lived n New York and she called me from Moosejaw, BC. She was crying and promised to be good if I let her come back. She told me she was living with a Mountie who was abusive. He made her put on his Mountie pants while he sang the Canadian national anthem and made her eat poutine with chopsticks. She was humiliated by what he put her through. The only thing she could do was jump in the Tesla and drive home. She had sold my watch and chain and my diamond ring and needed more money. She asked me to wire $250,000 to Mountie headquarters and everything would be all right. I wired her the money and never heard from her again. I admit, I missed her. I even hired a private investigator to track her down.

She had gotten a divinity degree at “Holy, Holy, Holy Seminar” in Nevada. Now, she was the pastor of a Baptist Church in Florida where she ministered to the elderly, assuring them a place in heaven if they signed their worldly goods over to her, to be transferred to her upon their death. By targeting people over 80, she cleaned up.

She was taken to court over her “place in Heaven” offer. One family’s dead matriarch kept manifesting in the back seat of their Subaru yelling “God knows it’s a fraud.” She had landed in Hell, clearly not what she had been promised. The PI discovered that Susie Lou had left town after the matriarch episode, like she always did—disappearing down the wide open highway.

Next, she was an Uber driver, using the Tesla to ferry tourists around New York City. Among her colleagues she was referred to as “Lost Lou Lou.” Clearly, she wasn’t so good with directions. It came to a head when she drove into the East River. That was the end of my Tesla and Susie Lou too. Nobody at her funeral had anything good to say about her. However, I did. I said “She loved money. That’s a kind of love. It resonates with Paul’s Epistle to the Pergans who had a banking crisis and needed God’s help.”

This was the end of it.


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

The 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.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


My toe and my bank account were hurting! I didn’t know how my toe had become inflamed. It looked like a zucchini with a blackened claw at the end. I had visited at least 100 doctors. At $200 a shot, the bills were mounting. The remedies provided by the doctors made loud quacking sounds when I took the pills or followed instructions for doing things that would cure me:

  1. Snort dried rabbit poop ground into dust.
  2. Sit on an opened can of tuna fish until it imprinted a circle around my anus.
  3. Dip my foot in warmed goat urine seasoned with ramps and poison ivy.
  4. Take a pill filled with strawberry-flavored ground dog fur.
  5. Super-glue a set of dice to my toenail.

These are just a few of the 100s of remedies that I was prescribed and tried to no avail. I had a custom-made shoe crafted to wear on my errant foot. It looked like a meatloaf with a heel. People would cringe when they saw it, especially if we were crowded in somewhere like an elevator. One day on the subway, some kid stepped on my foot. I screamed so loud that the subway stopped. I’m not sure why it did, but it did. Everybody started yelling at me: “Go home creep!” “Nice footwork asshole!” “Limp to hell fu*k weed!”

I limped off the subway at my stop. I was thinking “Typical fu*king New York.” Then I saw it! Scrawled on the wall it said: “Try Doctor Hoo Doo. He will make you whole.” There was a phone number. I pulled out my cellphone and immediately called the number. There was a recorded message: “Who do voodoo? We do voodoo. Leave your number.” I left my number and Doctor Hoo Doo called me the next day. He is located in Haiti. I had to fly to Port au Prince the next day for my appointment.

When I arrived at the airport, a horse cart was waiting to take me to my appointment with Doctor Hoo Doo. The driver dropped me off at the end of an alley, and pointed down it. I started down the alley and saw a man sitting on a stool at the end of the alley wearing a track suit and holding a baseball bat. He told me to take off my meatloaf shoe. He sprinkled some kind of powder on my foot and started beating my toe with the bat. Strangely, it didn’t hurt. After beating on it for about 10 minutes, my toenail shot out of the send of my toe and flew away like a butterfly, dripping some kind of vile-smelling yellow goo. My toe deflated with a long farting sound and I felt better than I had felt for the past ten years.

Doctor Hoo Doo said “There! You’re cured! You will serve as my slave for the next two years. Then, you may go home.” Two years as a slave was a small price to pay for having my toe cured. I would’ve gone for five. I readily agreed.

I work at a pikliz factory out in the middle of nowhere. In fact, I do not know where it is, however, I can hear the ocean waves crashing at night. I have learned some French. My fellow workers are dull-eyed slow-moving sluggards. They look like they’ve sold their souls or something. They all work on the night shift which leaves me on my own to make pikliz during the day.

I met Doctor Hoo Doo’s overseer yesterday. He said “We don’t think about escaping, do we?” I knew he was joking, so I agreed with him. He has a subscription to Amazon Prime. We’re going to watch “Night of the Living Dead” tomorrow night while all the dull-eyes are working in the cabbage fields.

My foot is doing fine. As far as I can see, everything’s going great. One year and 9 months to go!


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.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


I took a shot at winning. I took a shot of whisky. I took a shot at the target. I missed by a wide margin. My pants fell down. I needed help getting off the field. Taking a shot of whisky was part of the ritual of the annual bow and arrow competition behind the city’s firehouse, I have never been able to hold my liquor. But taking a shot before stepping up to the line is mandatory. I hope every year that the whisky won’t affect me, but it does. At least I didn’t kill anything this year with my stray arrow. Last year, I hit a Robin’s nest in a nearby tree. You can imagine what a mess that was!

The annual bow shoot goes back to colonial times. The colonists had run out of gunpowder, and had been without it for months. The Native Americans had been supplying game. One day, one of their leaders said “We are sick of supplying you with turkeys and dragging dead deer over hell and back to feed you. We will teach you how to make bows and arrows and shoot them at animals, big and small.” Our forebears welcomed the opportunity and became expert bowmen. They killed and ate squirrels and rabbits for hundreds of miles around. Because our forebears were killing everything in sight. The Native Americans confiscated their bows and arrows and went back to supplying our forebears with food.

Our forebears were angry. They plied the Native Americans with whisky and got their bows and arrows back when the Native Americans were sleeping. When they awoke, the Native Americans packed and went to Ohio where there were few settlers. Our forebears rented a cargo wagon and went to New York where they purchased enough gunpowder to blow down all the herds of deer within 100 miles.

This is when our revered ancestor intervened. Paradise Bellfort was our preacher. He gave a tear-jerking sermon advocating restraint and instituting an annual bow and arrow competition reminding us of “kinder times.” The sermon took. It took people back to kinder times. They hung their muskets over their fireplaces and started buying meat at the general store that had come to town the preceding year. To get cash to spend, our forebears turned to farming and raising sheep, goats, and cows.

So, here I am a prisoner of the annual bow shoot. This year, I’m going to spit out the whisky when nobody’s looking and go sober to the bow shoot.

POSTSCRIPT

Spitting out the whisky didn’t work. My sister saw me and ratted me out. I was blindfolded and tied to a target.


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.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


I was spooning my soup, but I really wanted to be spooning Nell. I couldn’t show my romantic inclinations in front of her mother at the dinner table. My presence was an experiment. Her mother wanted to see what kind of person I am and she felt that the dinner table—with the play of manners—was the best place to do so. Nell and I had been dating for one year, and this was my 75th dinner with the Tonbells. We have the same thing every time. Leek soup, bread and butter, meatloaf, potatoes, and carrots with ice water and ginger snaps and hot tea for dessert. The food was pretty good, but enough was enough. Nell said that I should wait for her mother to ask if I wanted to marry her (Nell). I had agreed up until now. The time had come for me to ask for Nell’s hand. When we were having our tea, I asked.

Nell’s mother looked at me as if I had punched her, and that asking for Nell’s hand was a curse from hell. I was shocked when she pulled a handgun out of her dress and pointed it at her head and said, “If you marry my daughter, I will kill myself.” I had recently completed a course in conflict management at the local community college, so I was ready.: “Conflicts are over who has what rights and responsibilities, facts, and motives. Listening is . . . “ She didn’t let me finish. She aimed the pistol at me and said “I’m going to shoot you when we finish our tea.” “What’s so bad about me?” I asked in tears. She said, “You want to marry my idiot daughter, that’s what’s so bad. She has no taste. She would marry an SUV if it was wearing pants. She needs to marry a doctor who can take care of her.” We were almost done with our tea. The end was near.

I told Nell’s mother that I would go to medical school and become a brain surgeon. She put down the gun and said she would reconsider. That night she fell out of her bedroom window and broke her neck and died. I thought “Good riddance.” She was completely insane. Nell’s father had left years earlier, after Nell’s mother had put marbles on the stairs and he had suffered a broken leg and arm and a concussion.

Nell and I got married. We had leek soup once a month in memory of her mother. I’m pretty sure Nell killed her mother, but I’m not going to ask her.


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.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


My truck is a piece of antiquity and a piece of crap. If you looked close enough, you could see where the reins had come out from under the hood before motors were invented. It smelled like a horse’s butt inside and it’s top speed was 50 mph, fast for a horse-drawn carriage, but slow for a delivery truck. The wheels have wooden spokes, like wagon wheels. There are spear racks on the roof and the headlights run on kerosene. It has running boards. It’s brand name is “Pax Deus.”

I had bought it on E-bay. For some reason I was drawn to the piece of crap. It was like there was a voice in my head urging me to buy it. I bought it from some guy named Priscian. He said he taught grammar at a special school somewhere in Kansas. He said the truck was as much a cart as it was a truck. He said he had to sell it “because they were starting to suspect things.” I should have pressed him for more information, but in the picture posted on the internet the truck looked pretty much like a normal panel truck, except for the wooden-spoked wheels, but I thought I could have them changed, and the voice in my head was nagging me, “buy it, buy it, buy it.” The truck was $500.00, so I went for it.

I took a train from Asheville to Codex, Kansas. I had to change trains three times and ended up walking at least five miles to the place where the truck was garaged in a wheat field outside of Codex. The garage was disguised as a brush pile—but out there in the flatlands, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Priscian was there waiting for me. He was dressed oddly—a full-body green leotard, a black cape, a black beret, and some kind of weird soft leather black boots. He was wearing a huge gold cross around his neck with a Latin inscription I didn’t understand. He looked like a character out of “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” I was apprehensive.

He held out a leather bag for me to deposit the $500 in. Then, he signed the title over to me—the bill of sale was written in ink, in beautiful script on parchment. Then he handed me the keys. They were made out of ivory! He walked behind the truck and disappeared. That was the last I would ever see of him. I threw my luggage in the back of the truck and got in, behind the giant wooden steering wheel. I inserted the ivory key and the windshield started to glow, then a man that looked like a Medieval monk popped up. He said “Thou shalt deliver us from evil.” I was completely weirded out, but I started the truck and took off anyway. When I got up to top speed, I looked in the rear view mirror. The truck was being pursued by a band of imps on tricycles, hooting, with spears strapped across their backs. The looked like clowns from a horror circus. There was no way they could catch me rolling along at 50 MPH. Maybe they were a hallucination. I had taken a lot of acid in high school, and had seen a couple of imps before. I could cope.

Anyway, I drove back to Asheville without further incident: I guessed I had “delivered us from evil,” but I had no idea how or why. Although the truck is a piece of crap, I can’t give it up. Whenever I turn the key the monk-looking guy comes on the windshield and says “Thou shalt deliver us from evil.”

I tell them about it, and try to show my friends the talking windshield, but they tell me I am crazy when they hear or see nothing.

I went to the Salvation Army store and bought a pair of green tights, a white smock, a wide belt, and a pair of light-brown Uggs. This is what I wear when I drive my truck. For some reason the clothes soothe me and make me feel like driving my truck is some kind of mission—that me deliveries serve a higher purpose.

This week, I’m delivering a load of Bibles to the local Catholic Church. Last week, I delivered stained-glass windows to the Presbyterian Church. Next week, I’m lined up to deliver pew cushions. This morning, I tried to load some pin ball machines destined for a topless bar, but I couldn’t get the truck’s doors open, and the horn started honking.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


When I met with the Dean, I never raised my expectations for what he would have to say, or my estimation of his right to be sitting there in his ostentatious leather swivel chair. My chair, in the Rhetoric Department, was squeaky, and uncomfortable, and it’s wheels had been stolen when I was off-campus on leave. One week after I returned from leave, and was sitting on a bench eating lunch and watching people on the quad, I saw my chair-wheels attached to a skate board rolling past me. I yelled “You thief! Give me back my wheels!” Without even looking at me, the thief gave me the double finger and continued to roll wherever he was going. I yelled “You little shit!” as he headed down the hill. There was an audible “gasp” from the people sitting near me when I said “shit.”

I am here in Dumbo Dean’s office because of what I yelled. According to University Regulation 2.2 under “Prohibited Judgment-Words,” faculty are barred from using “shit, poop, steamer, Lincoln Log, Snake Charmer, Groaner or any other name connoting or denoting a bowel movement and/or fecal matter to refer to and/or demean a student, their family, or their friends.”

Well, I thought, we don’t even know whether this kid is a student. Then I noticed there was a kid sitting outside Dean Numbnuts office. He had a skateboard on his lap—with my chair-wheels screwed onto it. He was the little shit. I recognized him. It was Puster Twupe. His ancestors had paid for and built the university at the beginning of the 19th century. The university charter said all Twupes would be admitted to the university, attend free of charge and be immune from disciplinary charges for their behavior. This last provision was included because the Twupes had a predisposition for misbehavior, up to, and including the fatal bell tower accident in 1888. Many university presidents had tried to have the immunity clause removed from the charter. One President was beaten to death with a field hockey stick, and another was killed when a Bunson burner was stuck up his rectum and turned on. The gas blew him up like a balloon, and then, he exploded in flames.

Bozo the Dean told me if I apologized to “Mr. Twupes” we could forget the entire incident, and, I may get my chair-wheels back. Otherwise, I would be terminated from the university, my pension would be rescinded, and my campus burial plot would be returned to the university. Puster made a little snorting sound when Diaper Dean got to the bit about my burial plot. I didn’t care.

As Chair of the Rhetoric Department for the past 40 years, I had embezzled nearly $2,000,000 from operating funds with fake equipment purchases, trips to nowhere, fake guest speaker fees, and “miscellaneous” supplies. I had also actually purchased a departmental sailboat, “intended” for departmental bonding actives, but really, for my eventual getaway to the Caribbean. I had named it “Freedom.” So, I told Dean Dud to go fuck himself with the apology. Puster said “Wo dude,” as I walked out the door and into the rest of my life. I wanted to murder the little shit, and I thought I had a plan.

We agreed to meet up in the bell tower that night at 11.00. I told him I had an ounce of crack I needed to unload before I disappeared forever. He said “Righteous” which I assumed meant yes. Standing by the tower rail, he told me with a smug look on his face that he wasn’t really a Twupes, and I had been totally duped by him. But I was going to push him into oblivion no matter what. “What’s your mother’s name?” I asked. He said “Marcia Rocnkburg, she was knocked up by a professor, who got away with it because back then faculty and students were allowed to have sex. The University granted her child Twupes status to shut her up. My name was legally changed and I’ve been living as a Twupes ever since. ” “I knew it. You’re my goddamn son!” I yelled as I pushed the little shit over the tower railing and listened for the dull thud when he finished his fall.

As I untied “Freedom” from the dock, and the wind pushed into her sails, I thought about Marcia Rocnkburg, who had disappeared a few days after giving birth, and had been missing for nearly 20 years.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


I smelled roses as I walked through the arboretum, and danger. It was summer and I was surrounded by blooming flowers and idiots throwing frisbees. Why did I feel this way? Why did my life go on in anticipation of occurrences that never occurred? As I walked along, I remembered years and years ago when I had taken acid and gone to the arboretum. I was accosted by a talking sunflower. The sunflower told me to pick him and him take home with me. He looked like standing liquid, flashing shades of green. His giant yellow head actually looked like the sun! I cut his stem with my Swiss Army knife (everybody had one back then—mine was pink). The sunflower whimpered as he was cut. I almost stopped cutting, but the hapless flower insisted that I go on. If I got caught liberating a flower from the arboretum, there would be a $200 fine, and my mother’s wrath. I hid the sunflower in my Grateful Dead T-shirt, nearly crushing it. I slowly walked home and put it in a vase. It had stopped talking, and that was ok. I petted the flower and it wiggled and cooed. I just stood there for what seemed like an hour (or two). When I became “normal” again I needed herbal tea, to take a shower, and a session with my shrink.

Well, here I am again. Back in the arboretum. I came to the same stand of sunflowers and to my senses. “There is nothing to fear but too much beer!” I yelled at the sunflowers. It was characteristically stupid. There’s so much beyond too much beer to fear; like wearing adult diapers, or forgetting your phone number, or losing things. The arboretum hadn’t changed in 50 years, but I had. That was the danger I had sensed as I walked down the arboretum’s path. I carried the cargo of time.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

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Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


He caught the high fly ball and a glimpse of his emerging prowess as a ball player. He heard the umpire yell “ouuut” with his stretched out voice. He knew then that this was his home—his life, his fate. Baseball. He carried high hopes and the equipment bag back to the locker room. Could he do it? Could he make it as a baseball player? He would try.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You have terminated your National Security Advisor, White House Chief of Staff, White House Communications Director, Secretary of Health and Human Services, and soon, countless people who can’t afford health insurance because of you and your sadistic colleagues in the US Senate.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You anointed yourself, your wife, and your press secretary. To what we are not sure, but from where I’m sitting it looks like the Three Stooges, with you taking on the persona and appearance of Curly?

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You blew up yourself, your local KFC, and your dream of being a meat-loving martyr.

You have besmirched our cause, betrayed Colonel Sanders, and dashed our hope of obtaining endless complimentary $20 Family Fill Ups and XXL soft drinks.

Dr. Bronner’s army of inveterate vegetarians, vegans, sproutarians and other meat-haters will never be defeated by such acts of gross incompetence.

  • Post your own syllepsis on the “Comments” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You wrecked our car, the garage door, and my day.

  • Post your own syllepsis on the “Comments” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You opened my heart, my front door, and my wallet–now it’s time to open my eyes and see you for what you really are: a teabag filled with sawdust.

  • Post your own syllepsis on the “Comments” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech (most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun) governs two or more other parts of a sentence (often in a series)].

You broke my heart and my i-phone–what’s next, my leg?

  • Post your own syllepsis on the “Comment” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.