Tricolon (tri-co-lon): Three parallel elements of the same length occurring together in a series.
I ate. I drank. I farted. It was a wonderful night. All my friends had come to my birthday party. I was 77 and I could still walk and go to the bathroom without assistance. The nursing home day room was festively decorative. Balloons of every imaginable color hung from the ceiling. Some of them said “Happy Birthday” on them. The the guys in white coats who were also called “staff” made us wear pointy party hats so they could take pictures for the Trustees.
My urologist had recently prescribed me viagra to take every day for “prostrate health.” Consequently, I had screwed every willing woman in the nursing home. I didn’t care how old they were as long as they wanted viagarian experience. There was one women who was so unwilling that she threw things around me when she saw me coming. Her name was Galatians. Once, she threw her knitting at me. I got tangled up in it, fell down, and broke my wrist.
I had never been so adamantly rejected. I tried my best to honor her wishes. I stopped leering at her and pointing to my crotch. I stopped with the cat calls and making smootching sounds with my lips. Nevertheless, she complained about me and I was severely admonished by the Director, Dr. Ed, who was a cosmetologist who signed contracts with the nursing home’s clientele to do their faces when they die.
He had a giant red scar across his face with a story behind it—he had fallen off a motorcycle and his face had scraped along the curb for 100 feet, coming to rest when his head got stuck in an opening above a sewer grate in the gutter. He lost his girlfriend. He was bullied. He became a cosmotligist.
So, my punishment for my rude and totally inappropriate behavior, was to be taken off Viagra and returned to impotence. A lot of women complained, but the Trustees were adamant. So, in my limphood I was able to make friends with Galatians—the woman who had thrown things at me. I found out her deceased husband was a Baptist Preacher. That said a lot about her attitude toward me. As we were talking, suddenly, she moved her chair close to mine and put her hand on my leg. I got a tingle in my dingle. She told me that she and Dr. Ed were “getting it on.” I was schocked. Now that I was neutered, she felt safe talking to me about sexual things. She asked if I ever heard of a “threesome.” “Hell yeah!” I said. “Don’t worry about your condition. I have something that will help.” She invited me to Dr. Ed’s for what she called a “session.” I was confused, but I decided to go.
I met them a Dr. Ed’s the next day at 6:00. We were taking off our clothes when Dr. Ed’s wife burst in the front door. He said “Do you know what a foursome is?” She picked up a table lamp and started beating him over the head with it. She killed him and we were witnesses. Her trial was messy. She got 2 years.
Galatians and I became close after that. She made me a “health” drink called “Throbbing Goreng.” She had learned how to make it when she and her husband were on a mission in Amsterdam, Netherlands. I drank it down in one gulp and started to rise like a GIF of a sprouting sunflower on one of those nature shows.
Galatians is my only girlfriend. If we weren’t going to die in a few years of old age, or cancer, or something, we’d get married.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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