Natasha Romanoff hated pierogies — but more than that, she hated lies.
It is a well-established maxim in comedy that some words are inherently funnier than others. There's a reason that the standard joke is "a _______ the size of a Buick" and not "the size of a Lincoln" or "the size of a Camaro": "Byoo-ick" is just funnier to say. (You can even break it down into its phonemes and note that it starts with a plosive B and ends with a K sound.) "Pierogies" is one of those funny words. It sounds funny, and the object it refers to is funny. "Lies"? Not funny. To say that Natasha hated lies, but more than that, hated pierogies, would be to create a serious atmosphere and then puncture it with a funny word — a standard formula for a joke. To say that she hated pierogies, but more than that, hated lies? Putting the lies at the end makes that a serious sentence. A serious sentence that for some reason has the word "pierogies" in it.
Why I hate these things:
I’d never given much thought to how I would die — though I’d had reason enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.
- Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
- One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Renowned curator Jacques Saunière staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery.
- The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
- Ulysses by James Joyce
Two are loved. Two are reviled. Structures are similar. Setups are identical.