The Tale of the Private "R"
A tropical story from Word Hero
This isn’t some rhetorical fantasy of mine. Okay, it is a rhetorical fantasy, but I wrote it for your edification. The passage comes packed with those make-believe devices we call tropes. To find them, click on the highlighted words.
“Mr. Heinrichs, I presume?” she said, leveling her baby blues at me.
The chair squeaked as I put my Guccis up on the desk and stared back. “Who’s asking?”
The dame gave a little snort, like a greyhound before it catches the mechanical rabbit. “Your name’s on the door. I’m told you help people with their persuasion problems. But you look like a private eye.”
“Not private eye, private are,” I said.
“‘R’ for ‘rhetorician.’ Hilarious.” She wasn’t laughing, though. “So are you available?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘available.’” I leered at the feat of gravity that lay beneath the unbuttoned top of her blouse.
“Keep your eyes to yourself. I’m married.” She sighed. “To a husband who won’t do any chores around the house.”
“A pig,” I nodded. “I got ways for dealing with his type.”
“I can pay.”