Adynaton (a-dyn’-a-ton): A declaration of impossibility, usually in terms of an exaggerated comparison. Sometimes, the expression of the impossibility of expression.
“Impossible! You actually made a friend! It’s like Jefferson Davis and Abraham Lincoln dancing together in the Capitol Building to “Born in the USA.” It was still impossible. I had paid a homeless man $5.00 to come home with me and and act like my friend.
I was 22 and still lived at home and had never had a friend. In fact, I’m not sure exactly what a friend is, but my mother told me I’d “be out on the street in one week” if I did not make a friend. Mom was obsessed with me having a friend because of the Carole King song that made having a friend very desirable. Also, Mom had number of “friends” who came over when Dad was out of town on business. They would watch TV with Mom in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. We were sworn to secrecy, or else. Mom would hold up Dad’s hatchet when she said “Or else,” and follow up with “don’t stick your necks out my little chickens.” We were terrorized. My sister Belle wanted to run away from home. I convinced her that Mom would come after her and chop off her head. So, she stayed.
My “friend” told me his name was Bill Gates. He said he made “electrical” things until Jimi Hendrix sucked all juice out of his wires and made him homeless. He said the last electrical thing he made before he was made powerless, was a magic wand that could produce fresh vegetables, and also, be used a a weapon to fight for the “American Way.” I asked him what the “American Way” is and he told me it may be “Way up north to Alaska” or maybe the “way to San Jose.” I never should’ve brought hm home.
Mom asked me what made me and Bill friends. I told her we were men, manly men, men to men, men doing men things together. We picked blueberries, we ran over squirrels, we kicked smaller people, and chased women all over town. Bill raised his hand and said “It’s a lie. We’re not really friends. Your son paid me $5.00 to be his friend. Mom said, “Wait a minute” and abruptly left the room. I could hear her rummaging in the kitchen drawer. She came out holding Dad’s hatchet. She said, “Bill, take a shower and meet me in that room over there. Son, take your fat little sister and get the hell out of here. Come back when you have a friend—preferably male and 6’2”.
It was inevitable. I don’t want or need friends—it’s impossible for me. I guess Belle is sort of a friend, and she had friends too. We lost touch with Mom and Dad. Hen, I saw Mom on “America’s Most Wanted”. She goes by the name of “The Hatcher Waver.” She randomly shows up at bus stations waving a hatchet and yelling “Come home you little bastards, Mommy wants to chop off your heads.” This terrorized the bus patrons. I was thinking about how insane mother had become, when I heard somebody chopping a hole in the front door. It was Mom. She stuck her head through the hole and yelled “Come home!” I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a cast iron skillet. I ran back to the front door and bashed Mom in the forehead. It was over. Sirens screamed as they took her away. That same night they found Dad’s headless torso. They found his head on his car’s dashboard wired into the built-in satellite navigator. I suspect Bill Gates had a hand in that.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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