Ecphonesis (ec-pho-nee’-sis): An emotional exclamation.
“Leave me alone you fu*king scumbag! I’m gonna’ jam this toothbrush in your eye if you don’t fu*k off!” It was morning and I was in my bathroom yelling at the medicine cabinet mirror. I was unhealthy. I was convinced that I had myself under surveillance. Every morning, there I was watching me as I combed my hair, shaved, and brushed my teeth. I was only able to see myself watching me when I looked into a mirror. Otherwise, I just knew “I” was there.
“I” was out of sight, stalking me and playing dirty tricks on me. Yesterday I stepped on a piece of melting bubblegum. There’s no doubt that “I” caused it to happen. I’m not sure how, but I think I was pushed. I had to go to the shoe repair shop to have the gum removed from my shoe’s sole. When I showed the shoemaker my shoe, he held up a mirror to my face and asked if the man in the reflection had done it—had guided me to the gum. The man in the reflection looked like me, but I knew it was “him”!
The shoemaker had slightly pointed ears, but he had soft and friendly baby-blue eyes. He went into the back room of the shop and came out carrying a small bottle labeled “Away!” He told me to put a few drops on a dirty sock and rub it around on my bathroom mirror. He said, “The stalker will go away, and you will be you in the mirror again—a benign reflection showing you as you are. Your troubles will disappear.”
When I got home, I dumped a few drops of “Away!” on one of my dirty black dress socks and rubbed it around on my mirror. My mirror flashed. It turned red and blue and then went back to normal again. I looked at my reflection—it was me! Good old me again! I looked like I looked before when “I” was in the mirror, but I knew it was me. I just knew I was free. “I” was gone.
I had to go back to the shoe repair shop to thank the old man. He told me to stay away unless I had a reflection problem. He was adamant. I looked at the mirror hanging by the cash register—the man reflected in it wasn’t me. He looked like my neighbor Chip. The reflection said “I’m not Chip.” That did it. I thanked the old man and left the shoe repair shop. When I got out on the street, I pulled out the pocket mirror I had started carrying. I looked at it, but it had gone blank. It said “I’m not Chip.” I threw it on the sidewalk, but it was metal and didn’t break. I could hear it saying “I’m not Chip” as I walked away.
I didn’t understand. But life was going well. Now, when I looked in the mirror I was confident it was me looking back at me. Chip was a thing of the past. He had died mysteriously in his bathtub. Somehow, a television set had fallen in his tub and electrocuted him. Also, I rubbed down my mirror with “Away!” every once in a while, just to keep it honest. I dreaded the day when I ran out of “Away!” and my reflection became my enemy again. What the hell would I do? I don’t know. I the meantime I’m shopping for a new TV. I have ruined my old one. It was Chip’s fault.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.
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