I have many favorite words. I like the way they sound. Thwap. Burgle. Wiemaraner. Quartile. Grumpy. Bankrupt. Okefenokee. Fubar. Sinister. Tamarack. And that’s only a few.
I’m sure you have many as well. Just for fun, close your eyes and copy down as many of your favorite words as you can think of. Have fun. Go for quantity.
Open your eyes and edit your list so you end up with only ten favorite words.
It’s galumphing time! Take your ten words and combine them into a brief story. It will be all your own.
16 Responses
Thanks, Ann, for your kind comment.
It was a fun writing experience.
Thanks, Jeff, for reading and commenting and above all announcing your thirst for the potion of poetry.
Sure thing, I’ll send you a selection of serious works I’ve written recently, to your email address.
Get your hanky ready!
10 of my favourite words:
paraphernalia
minuscule
conundrum
shenanigans
buffoon
roly-poly
oodles
flabbergasted
brouhaha
kerfuffle
———————————————————————————–
An Unusual Journey
Town folk thought of Henry Scheiderbumble
as a harmless yet annoying buffoon.
He darted from his home to the bus stop,
roly-poly body draped in maroon.
Miniscule briefcase he held in one hand
and oodles of gel spiked his silver hair.
He sometimes whirled in flawless pirouettes
giving his journey to work extra flair.
Today, the bus crowd was flabbergasted
when Henry tripped, falling on the sidewalk.
No one knew how to solve this conundrum,
no one wished to break the law and jaywalk.
They stood like cattle being rounded up
when young Johnny King appeared on the scene.
He asked what the kerfuffle was about
in the midst of the brouhaha he’d seen.
Getting no response, Johnny crossed the road,
aware of old Henry’s shenanigans.
He pulled the foolish man onto his feet
while others would have taken no actions.
Everyone watched with genuine surprise
for such kindness was unheard of in town.
Henry picked scattered paraphernalia
from the case that had also fallen down.
Hi Krys: that was a good job with those words. I would like to read some of your serious poetry. I’m off for the weekend, but if you have time and want to, send me a couple of your faves. Jeff
Loves the rhymes! You’ve gone above and beyond.
You’ve made my night, GT. You inspired me to begin working on a TV sitcom pilot that is going to need your help and everyone else’s. I’m counting on help with the characters and the first episode. I shall post soon. Hasta pareto!
Saponifier – In 1856, the Royal Lubrication Barge, HMS Dover, was laid up and rebuilt as HMS Saponifier. This followed an inquiry by the Admiralty which concluded that the Royal Navy had never needed lubrication as provided by the Dover, but instead had a desperate need of soap.
Transubstantiation – Joe looked down on the pathetic little crappies flopping around the bottom of the boat. He could have easily dismissed them, yet, as a true believer, he knew transubstantiation could make them a band.
Verisimilitude – Bill sunk deep into his armchair with worst possible feeling. As a lifelong adherent to the tenets of verisimilitude, he could not decide if it was more believable that Beaver Cleaver had died in Vietnam, or that Buffy from “Family Affair” overdosed because they had pulled her hair too tight during the production of the show. He felt both were equally likely.
Nichrome – It was the worst possible first date a girl could have. As a classically trained vocalist, Julie decided to sing a well known popular song for Brad. It went fine until she sang, “I’ve got a nichrome camera. I love to take photographs.” Later, she was totally humiliated when Brad told her that nichrome was a type of resistance wire used in toasters, and that he never wanted to see her again.
Equidistant – Jimmy scratched his head. Ok, he thought, a train from Pittsburgh is traveling at 40 miles per hour towards New York. A train from New York, which left yesterday, was standing still at the station in Chicago. He had looked over at Kim’s paper while the teacher was busy, so he knew the answer was “equidistant.” On a lark, he wrote down, “Eastern Indiana.”
Substrate – Karen watched Dave struggle with the Ritz crackers. He had eaten several of them, but was clearly not happy with the result. “What’s the matter honey?” she asked. He frowned and replied, “It’s the damn surface texture.” At that, Karen knew exactly what to do. She picked up the crackers, and was back within a few minutes, carrying a plate of the same crackers drenched in melted cheese. Dave was amazed at the change in texture. “How did you do it?” he asked. “Why dear, every girl knows that cheese functions as a molecular bonded substrate.”
Conniption – Marty thought his wife had taken his revelation of the affair, all three of them in fact, very well. Feeling that confession was helping him restore their relationship, Marty revealed he had gambled away their 401K money, and that her beloved cat really didn’t die of old age. When he confessed to leaving the toilet seat up however, he had always claimed the dog lifted it during the night, Connie pulled a pistol from her purse and shot him 27 times. Later, the coroner ruled the cause of death as “Conniption.”
Perihelion – The biggest mistake a flight controller can make is confusing metric units with English, and that was exactly what Clark had done. He knew darn well why they had lost contact with the “Tequila Sunrise” spacecraft, and he wondered how he could explain that to the Chief. Cleverly, he suggested the craft was at “absolute perihelion,” and that was effecting communications.
Orthogonal – Kellie had a wonderful time attending the service at her new boyfriend’s church. The members of the congregation had been so kind, and Father Kragnoski had made a special point of talking with her after the service. Wanting to appear interested in her boyfriend’s religion, she pointed to a symbol on the Father’s robe and asked him about the significance of the lines meeting at ninety degrees. He smiled at her and said, “My dear, the lines are 270 degrees apart.” This made her feel silly, as her boyfriend had told her beforehand he was Orthodox.
Pareto – Dick and Jane were holed up in the abandoned mine entrance. Fortunately, Dick had killed seven of the ten vicious wolves that had tracked them since they left the 80-20 ranch. With five bullets left, it seemed a sure thing that Dick could dispatch the remaining three wolves and save the day. With their backs against the caved-in mine tunnel, Dick picked out the largest of the wolves, and shot it directly in the head. He then shot the remaining four bullets into the air, and said, “Our problem is effectively solved.” “Idiot!” screamed Jane, as she quickly realized that Pareto charts don’t work in real life.
LOLOL – I loved conniption and nichrome, had to look a couple up to see if they were real words. Good job, Jeff
Thanks Jeff. Were they real words? Just curious. 🙂
10 of my favourite words:
paraphernalia
minuscule
conundrum
shenanigans
buffoon
roly-poly
oodles
flabbergasted
brouhaha
kerfuffle
…out the role of his character for the night.
I’ll have what he’s having. A gin and gnostic?
Since we are limited to 10, well here’s some:
Cacophony
Abomination
Fantasm
Albino
Amorphic
Cataclysm
Gnostic
Annihilation
Catechism
Suckling
Story will come in due time.
Okay. Something light-hearted for a change (insert sinister laugh track here.)
Edward sits at the darkest end of the bar, lips moving as if speaking in alien tongue, reciting Poe’s The Raven from memory as if it were his personal catechism of the continuity of failures that he views as the accomplishments of his life. Quite a feat for someone with his Gnostic take on the purpose of life, once filled with logic and knowledge, now buttered and blurred with fainting belief in himself and in Him above.
And to what purpose would that be? Edward, a man of colorless soul, pasty and albino if only one could view it, thus neither congruent with the darkness of despair usually found in such places, nor in harmony with the colorful world of happy souls — intruders who would not set foot in this place; people who would view him as some abomination of God; a biblical mistake on the part of The Great One; a fantasm spawned by fate and God’s sick sense of humor.
A cacophony of voices swirls in his head, screaming silently for some warmth of inner peace and a kiss of serenity. Edward collapses unseen on the floor, between the bar and his stool. His eyes bulge open, staring at nothing. Edward prays for the annihilation of his inner torment, or of all those around him, whichever would be an easier task for God. To Edward, it really dosen’t matter. But the cataclysm Edward seeks, some torrential solace from despair and fear, release from the screaming of the demons inside, echoes through his throat no louder than a suckling piglet lying at its mother’s teat, unheard by anyone wrapped in the comfort of the darkness of the bar.
A new drinker grabs the stool above Edward’s amorphic and motionless form, sits astride his evening throne, oblivious to Edward whose prayer has been answered, and begins acting out the role of his character of for night.
My Favorite Words
Curmudgeon
juxtapose
flutter
obtuse
effervescent
porcupine
torrid
solstice
Flotsam and jetsam
giddy
Murphells and Mullygrumps (when my puppy has an upset belly)
calamity
Hush and
Ponder