swivet / SWI – vit / a state of extreme agitation, a tizzy
It took a while to figure out how to do this story. If I’m being really honest, I thought about it far too much. So much so, that the story itself was the last thing I thought about, which might also be noticeable. I further suspect that I might’ve developed a case of “toilet on the brain,” with all of these commode-centered stories.
******************
The assembled crowd gasped, and glared at the butler, who jeered, “It’s the oldest dodge in the book. In formula fiction the one everyone suspects is the least likely to be the actual killer. I thought you all knew this, no one would ever suspect that I would be involve due to the simple fact that I was the obvious choice! Only I knew that Lady Penny had changed her will, leaving me the sole beneficiary. I just had to play dumb for a few weeks and take my just desserts. If it weren’t for that meddling investigator, I’d have gotten away with it all!”
“The killer is none other than Malcolm Jeeves, Ms. Penelope Crapper-Connor’s longtime lover and capable butler!”
There was silence in the large ballroom, where those assembled pondered these cryptic words.
“Perhaps it was her spurned lover, who arrived in a swivet, and strangled her in a moment of anger. Possibly, it was a member of her household staff, fed up with her constant, belittling attacks. Or, perhaps it was both…”
“Could it be her spoiled children? Unlikely. Each of them was far too absorbed in their own existence to entertain thoughts of murdering their mother in her bathroom, where she might be naked. Such a condition could not be observed by her spoiled offspring, who would not risk such a horrifying sight.”
“I am glad you all accepted my invitation. I know you all are eager to learn the truth of not only dear Penelope’s demise, but the death of her husband, Thornton. Unless, of course, you are the killer.”
As the dinner ended, and the nervous chatter grew in intensity, Polaski addressed the room of suspects. The butler fetched a microphone, so that everyone could hear.
The motley crew was assembled for a scrumptious dinner at the estate. Hosting the cast of dozens was left to the capable hands of K.C. Polaski, who promised to reveal the name of the murder.
Was Ms. Crapper-Connor’s death an accident? Was she the victim of matricide, or perhaps she decided a life as a toilet heiress was too much to handle?
Finally are the dark horse candidates, a gallery of household employees, including a much-put-upon cook, who endured the daily abuse of her employer’s biting critique of every morsel of food, a driver who had been fired for failing to stock the limo’s mini bar with cherries of sufficient size to fit on the end of Penelope’s nose, and a gardener who had been denied multiple raises over years of faithful service.
In the second tier of potential murderers is Penelope’s former lover, who had been strung-along for many years, waiting for Mrs. Crapper-Connor to accept his marriage proposal, and keep him in the manner to which he’d like to become accustomed.
The pool of suspects is Olympic-sized. In the shallow end are Penelope’s three surviving children. Ever since their father’s mysterious and unsatisfactorily resolved death, the three privileged and wasteful youths would benefit greatly from their mother’s untimely demise. True to stereotype, the eldest is known to have significant gambling debts, the middle child, an addiction to fashionable narcotics, and the youngest a knack for trusting scam artists, and had been “cut-off” from her trust fund.
Ms. Crapper-Connor was found dead in her bathroom, strangled by the long chain pull which activated her toilet’s flush. She had a number of bruises, suggesting that perhaps she had slipped and gotten caught in the cord. Such suggestions were made primarily by the main suspects in the case.
The bizarre murder of Penelope Crapper-Connor, heir to the enormous Crapper family fortune, has been puzzling detectives for nearly two weeks, but, one cunning Private Investigator claims that she will soon reveal the culprit, likely in at a dinner party to be held at the Crapper Compound.
As in:
swivet
Today’s Word:
As a side note, tomorrow (Jan 27) is National Crapper Day, the anniversary of the death of Thomas Crapper, the plumber most widely associated with toilet. He didn’t invent it, but, he had many innovations which made it more sanitary, and as the installer of the Royal privies, his fixtures became world renowned, and are not much different than the ones we know today.
In keeping with the Obscure holiday tradition, this story was inspired by today’s holiday, which is “Backwards Day.” I have a feeling you’ll notice. If you have ever felt disoriented, or that something was really out of whack, chances are, it wasn’t you, it was Backwards Day. Now you are forewarned.
Word of the Day: swivet
Word of the Day: confabulate
Weekends are over far too quickly, and we find ourselves back at Monday. I was going to say something really wise and thoughtful about the passage of time, but, my brain isn’t cooperating, and it seems to think that the word “cooperating” is awfully long and far too much to think about this morning. So, instead, I’ll just jump ahead to…
Today’s Word
confabulate
As in:
When channel 12 news reporter Anya Lopez arrived at the Sunshine Bakery for a story on their discovery of a skeleton in their basement, she had no idea that she would find herself in the middle of a completely different kind of story.
The bakery had hired contractors to expand the basement for improved storage and workspace, and, in the process, uncovered a skeleton.
The proprietors called the police. Then they called Lopez. Lopez arrived at the bakery just after their morning rush. She was led into the basement to see an excavated area, with its newly exposed human skeleton. The police had not yet arrived.
While the proprietor and Lopez confabulate in the basement, a masked gunman appears. The man is agitated, and demands that the proprietor hand over the restaurant’s money.
The proprietor is stunned. “The money is upstairs. Why did you come down here?”
The gunman is confused and annoyed that his request is ignored and that he had to come downstairs.
“There is no one up there,” the man complained. “Where is everyone? This place is always packed! I thought it would be a real easy hit, you know, and really profitable.”
“It’s after our rush. Pretty much goes dead after nine. Maybe we should just talk about this.”
“Talk? I’m here to rob you!”
“I’m sure you have a very good reason for that. Here, why don’t you sit here and tell me all about it.”
The poor gunman, confused collapsed to the stairs and cradled his head. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve been unemployed for 13 months, and I’m about to be homeless, I can’t pay my bills, I’ve stopped answering my phone because all I get are creditors calling to get money. I need this money!”
“Look, I feel for you, buddy, but, this isn’t the answer. You should really go. The police are on their way. Come back tomorrow, without the mask, and I’ll try and find you a job here.”
“Why would the police be on their way? No one’s called them. You can’t fool me. You just want me to leave. You don’t understand at all.”
Just then, the police came down the stairs.
The gunman, shocked, dropped his gun and threw his arms in the air. “I give up! I can’t win! Take me away!”
The police are marginally confused, and asked “Where’s the body? What the heck is going on?”
The gunman groaned, “Body?! I didn’t shoot anyone! This isn’t my fault! You can’t pin this on me! I’ve been framed! This is not fair! I want my lawyer!”
*************
I had originally imagined this would’ve been more of a hostage crisis, but, then things took turns that I’d not expected, and the story got out of hand, and it sorta defeated me.
confabulate \ con – FAB – you – late \ 1. to confer 2. to talk informally, chat Can also mean to fill in gaps in memory by fabrication.
Word of the Day: novitious
I’m something of a sucker for obscure holidays, in large part because they offer such a wealth of material for the Word of the Day. And today’s story is evidence of this. Today is National Answer Your Cat’s Questions Day. Seriously. I could not possibly make that up. Well, maybe. But, why would I?
Today’s Word:
novitious
As in:
In observance of National Answer your Cat’s Questions day, a novitious and obscure holiday invented for reasons that are unlikely to make any sense, an “Answer Fair” will be held downtown today. The fair will have booths selling catnip, mice on a stick and balls of yarn, as well as cat whisperers, cat translators, and other cat-related paraphernalia for cat owners to spend vast sums of money.
The booths of cat whisperers and translators will see cats so that their owners can gain an insight into what their cat might be thinking, and possibly what their questions might be so that they might be able to provide answers, thus fulfilling the letter of the holiday’s observance.
After strolling the stalls and seeing a wider selection of merchandise for cats and with pictures of cats than any human ever imagined existed, Nora Rosen was filled with anticipation, ready to wait in line to learn more about her cat than she had dreamed. She wasn’t sure if she believed that these people could glean the questions hidden within the mind of the mysterious feline, but, it would be interesting to see if anything they said made sense. She had brought her cat Schrödinger to the fair to learn what was behind that Mona Lisa smile of his, but, more than that, she hoped she could just get him to stop shredding furniture and spraying things As much as she loved her cat, sometimes, his destructive tendencies were not only frustrating, but costly. If she could find a way to prevent the worst of his habits, it would be worth it. Secretly, she was also excited to be able to know what her cat thought of her.
She set the feline in front of the panel of experts. Moments passed. The cat whisperer spoke, in the words only a cat would speak.
“Why are you bothering to answer my questions? As if you could understand them. Don’t you people have better things to do than trying to talk to cats, or putting captions on cat pictures? We don’t give a rotted bird carcass for your stupid cheeseburger. They’re all cooked and gross. If we wanted to talk to you furless monsters, we would, and we’d spell correctly using the paw-adapted keyboard we designed but you can’t see. What makes you thing we’d demean ourselves and use your filthy language anyway? Enough. Stop with the yarn. We demand catnip, and tuna.”
*******************
Getting what we think we’d like can be disappointing. Especially in the case of cats.
novitious / no – VISH – us / newly invented
Word of the Day: perspicuous
This is another story that was inspired by the real events of today. The nugget of the story was really funny when it occurred to me, and then, as I started typing, it sorta became too obvious, and a bit stupid to me. As I write this, I’m hoping that I find enough of something to make it more of a story and less of a one-liner. The prospects aren’t looking good.
Today’s Word:
perspicuous
As in:
A suspicious parcel caused a Lafayette, Colorado, school to suspend classes yesterday. The questionable item was a stuffed Kermit the Frog, with a spray of what appeared to be blood. The area was evacuated, and the area locked down. The item turned out to be harmless.
The person responsible for sounding the alarm said “It was the whole package, and its threateningly sinister demeanor seemed more than perspicuous to me. Disguising a bomb or other malicious item as a toy to be picked up at a school is not an unheard of tactic used in many places throughout the world. I do not think reporting the problem and closing the school was a irrational over-reaction, as some people have said.”
The fall out from this even might be serious, as school children across the country purchase red paint and stuffed animals to send to their schools in hopes that they can get a day off of their own. Schools can expect daily attempts to thwart the opening of school with parcels of mangled toys.
“In my wildest dreams, before this day, I never thought of such a brilliant way to close the school,” said Ashley Knott. “I always imagined that to get the day off, I’d have to set off the fire sprinkler’s or something. This worked much better. Maybe I’ll try and get like, one of those Cabbage Patch dolls and put a noose on it or something. That’d be more disturbing, and I wouldn’t mind ‘killing’ one of them.”
Others are more interested in who might’ve left the Kermit doll, speculating that perhaps the real message is still unclear. “I think maybe it’s an anti-French sentiment. I mean, ‘frog’ and ‘dead.’ That seems an even more obvious message, and frankly, while I’m no Francophile, this disturbs me.”
Another suggested that maybe there was no hidden message at all. Matt Crowley, a teacher at the school, noted, “Maybe some kid just left his or her play-thing lying around. It’s not like it would be the first time.”
Most of the faculty remain unconvinced. “It *has* to mean something. No one would get red stuff all over a Kermit doll. Maybe it’s voodoo. Could it have something to do with Haiti?”
The suggestion that the doll is some sort of “Weird Haiti thing” has triggered a wave of popular support amongst the faculty. They are guessing that maybe it’s a curse, and that the school must remain closed indefinitely, until an expert can be called and consulted on the matter. Other suggest that the school take special pains to give the toy a proper funeral to be sure that it doesn’t become and un-dead monster, killing anything in its path. Kermit should not be turned into an evil plaything. After all, it’s not easy being green.
**********************
I think I can live with that. Hope you all have a wonderful Thursday.
perspicuous / per – SPEH – que – us / plain; obviously stated because of the clarity and precision of the presentation.
Word of the Day: advertent
I had originally intended a different story for today, but, a breaking news story caught my attention so, I wrote this instead. It means that I’m already storing up stories for next week. Yay!
Today’s word
advertent
As in:
The “Poe Toaster,” a mysterious gentleman who has annually visited the grave of writer Edgar Allen Poe to deliver a half-bottle of cognac and 3 roses, failed to make an appearance this year.
Perhaps the tradition died with the stories circulating that the whole thing was a hoax designed to bring attention to the derelict cemetery in Westminster Presbyterian Church in Baltimore, where Poe’s remains were laid to rest. Since the creation of the mysterious stranger, said to have been visiting since 1959, Poe fans have gathered to wait for the stranger’s arrival.
And, year after year, since the story was set into motion, a visitor has appeared. Until this year. No one is certain whether this means that last year was the final visit, or if someone will be taking up the tradition in years to come.
The tradition has been very valuable to the cemetery itself, bringing in preservation dollars and attention to the churchyard, which has been cleaned-up and made safer. None of this preservation activity would’ve been possible without the “Poe Toaster.”
Now cemeteries across the nation have been trying to create their own traditions, hopeful that the newly advertent visitors will bring money into their own preservation coffers.
Recently, at Ellsworth Cemetery, the last resting place of Francis Johnson, a story has started circulating that visitors have had twine disappear from their pockets as they visit Johnson’s grave. Johnson, who died in 1989, is the man who built Darwin’s only tourist attraction. It is the Biggest Ball of Twine Built by One Man. It is also said that Johnson himself appears on the anniversary of his death, and can be seen working those stolen bits of twine into a ball.
Other cemeteries are simply telling people that they are haunted to get people to visit on Halloween for their “haunted” tours. As soon as these tours began, visitors reported seeing strange lights, person-shaped misty blobs, and feeling ghostly fingers on the backs of their necks.
Some cemeteries that have long-documented paranormal occurrences are angry that others are now “inventing” tales to steal their visitors. They also feel it’s dishonest. “How is the average cemetery-visiting public going to separate the made-up stories from the real ones? This is simply going to lead to a distrust of all stories having to do with cemeteries. No one will be spending their money, and we’ll all pay for these types of deceptions. It’s going to set cemetery preservation back at least a year.”
*************
The “Poe Toaster” has always reminded me a little of the story of John Cameron, a dashing bachelor who died in Central City on November 1, 1887. There are tales that the place is haunted. And that every year on the day of his death, a young woman, in Victorian garb, arrives and leaves flowers on his grave, and then disappears. He was well known as the area’s most eligible bachelor, and died young after a town social event. For more information on this cemetery, you can visit <a href=”http://www.colorado-cemeteries.com/CentralCityMasonic.html” target=”blank”>Colorado-Cemeteries.com.</a> In the interest of full disclosure, I am the proprietor of the site.
Also in the spirit of full disclosure, while there is an Ellsworth Cemetery in Darwin, Minnesota, I’ve no idea if Mr. Johnson is buried there. There is at least one other cemetery in the area, and for all I know, he could be buried in another state.
advertent \ add – VERT – ant \ giving attention; heedful
Word of the Day: truculent
I’ve been having some rather odd network problems, which, granted, are small in the scheme of things, but, which have forced me to do some very odd things. Yesterday, I had to look something up, and since I couldn’t go to Google, I had to use a book. Horrible. I’m glad, at least, I had a book that contained the information I needed. Hopefully I’ll get that solved soon.
Today’s Word:
truculent
As in:
The bathroom, once a center of quiet reflection, has now become a frequent scene of terror. Lurking in the waters of that most important of bathroom fixtures is a danger once thought to be benign, attacking when people are most vulnerable. He remains out of sight until it is too late, navigating the “waters” of the plumbing, and sailing his craft from house to house, rising from the depths to deliver a deadly harpoon attack to anyone who tries to pollute his waters.
This toilet water sailor, once an icon of clean bowls everywhere, seems to have gotten tired of being “dumped” on, and furious that his efforts to maintain a “tidy bowl” are thwarted multiple times every single day.
Once a source of light-hearted humor, the former pitchman realized the indignity and futility of his situation and turned from the tidy toilet talker into a truculent terrorist.
People are becoming afraid to even enter the bathroom, for fear of their very lives. Attacks seem to occur most frequently at night, when fatigue reduces vigilance and increases the likelihood of an easy to surprise target, and heightens the impact of the horror for the other persons in the household and around the nation. No one wants to discover their loved one, murdered in such an undignified fashion.
Far worse than the legends of crocodiles in the sewer, the fact of a rampaging toilet bowl man is creating unprecedented panic. No one appears to be safe.
The National Guard has been working to secure the nation’s toilets against this foe, but, he continues to avoid capture. The terror alert level has been placed on red, the highest level, and citizens are asked to be vigilant for signs of this monster, and report suspicious swirling immediately.
No one is lingering while doing “their business.” Reading material has been banished in bathrooms across the country. Subscriptions to the “Reader’s Digest” have plummeted.
In related news, the country is facing a shortage of adult diapers, as people avoid using their plumbing. Environmentalists are torn between celebrating the reduction in water usage for toilets, and bemoaning the rise in landfill waste devoted to diapers.
A few entrepreneurs are thriving in the atmosphere of terror. These people have developed Kevlar toilet tank blockers to prevent access to the toilet bowl from the plumbing. Sales are soaring, and the company is struggling to meet the demand, while being concerned about what they will do once the crisis passes.
*****************
The tidy bowl man on a murder spree? Why not? It seemed like a good idea at the time.
truculent \ TRUH – cue – lant \ 1. deadly or destructive 2. displaying ferocity
Word of the Day: febrile
I’ve been trying to shift the word of the day from a nightly post to an early morning post, but, wanted to wait until I’d gotten ahead enough with my story supply and could start on a Monday, to do that. I think that the having the Word of the Day first thing in the morning is a great way to start the day, something to get you out of bed in the morning, and make getting out of bed a little less painful. I’ve been wrong before.
Today’s Word:
febrile
As in:
Dateline: San Francisco. Just when you thought the saga of the baby found in the secret graveyard laboratory of Doctor Horrible couldn’t get any strange, the story has taken a new, even more bizarre twist.
The child, now being referred to as “Truman,” has been adopted by a group of documentary filmmakers.
The group had formed when Chase Klein, a documentarian who gained acclaim with his nature film “The Egrets Regret,” was diagnosed with a form of brain cancer. He realized that the process of undergoing treatments for his disease was a good subject for a film, and contacted fellow documentary filmmaker Erin Copperfield to help him.
After a few months, Erin herself was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. At times, this made it difficult for her to hold a camera or other equipment, so she contacted her cousin to move in with the duo and help with the project, which now included documenting her own deterioration.
News about their project spread, and soon, they had been joined by every documentarian with a deadly or debilitating disease in the country. The project now includes a gentleman with Huntington’s Disease, a lady with MS, several people with various cancers, a delighted hypochondriac and an ignoramus stricken with the heartbreak of chronic halitosis.
This group, now living in a large communal living complex, heard about the orphan discovered under strange circumstances, and decided that there could be no better place to raise the child than amongst the sick and dying.
While there was resistance to the idea, arguing that there were plenty of healthy couples looking to adopt a child, the group invited the other prospective parents to join them in their community, to make sure little “Truman” would not be abandoned should all the members of the community become unable to care for him as he got older.
“Mr. and Mrs. Poole are technically the adoptive parents, as they had already been registered as foster parents. They were very enthusiastic about their dream of having a child, and they also saw the advantages our community offered.” noted Copperfield. “We already look out for each other, and it’s a very creative and supportive environment, despite all the ills.”
“The nurturing environment will be more than enough to erase all traces of Truman’s horrible beginnings. Even better, should he ever feel remotely febrile, he has a wealth of people with experience in caring for the sick at his doorstep.”
The child will also be given the benefit of having every minute of his life documented, and is surrounded by his very own village of idiots.
************
Probably I’m the only one who remembers “The Egret’s Regret” from the first season of Family Ties. It was the documentary for which Mr. Keaton won a Murray award. Yes, I actually have thought about that fictional film since 1982. Yes, I am that sad.
febrile / FEE – brill / feverish.
Word of the Day: omasum
Grand schemes are taking shape in the strange world of my mind. It’s moist and pink and gushy, with some drippy clocks and a guy holding a plate of American cheese slices. He also wears one on his head.
You don’t really want to go into the strange world of my mind. And now, I’m not so sure I do either.
At any rate, I thought I’d share this story with you tonight. Look for exciting new developments next week. You might not see them, but, looking for them will keep you out of trouble.
Today’s Word:
omasum
As in:
In New Mexico last week, a young man reported that he had discovered the truth about what he described as “the most terrifying and disturbing plot in the history of mankind.” The man, 32 year old Perry Coleman, made his announcement at the annual gathering of the Society Obsessed with Recognizing and Revealing alien Yearnings (SORRY).
Coleman, a software engineer from California, was presenting his findings from what he calls an “alien autopsy.” Coleman claims that he became curious about the mechanics and programming behind the Furby toys, and set out to “reverse engineer” them. But, as he cut into the device, he was quite surprised to find that the “toy” was not what it appeared to be.
“At first, it seemed like a normal stuffed toy. But then I came to this casing just inside the fur, and it turned out to be fleshy, and, when I cut into it, it well, it bled, or oozed or something. I grabbed my old anatomy lab book, and quickly realized that I had cut directly into the omasum. Then, the alien spoke to me. It told me of its race’s plan to take over the planet Earth. Not long after it told me of its plans, it died. That’s when I started to take pictures of the weird alien anatomy.”
Coleman concludes by saying that he has “autopsied many Furbies,” and that they “are all aliens, and are all preparing for the annihilation of the human race.”
Hasbro, the company that “makes” the Furby toys, was unavailable for comment.
*********************
Okay, I apologize for “SORRY.” It is reaching a bit much, even for me.
omasum / oh-MASS-um / the third of the four stomachs of a ruminant (i.e. a suborder of even- toed hoofed animals that chew their cud, and have 4-chambered stomachs. Sheep, camels, and deer fall into this category.).
Word of the Day: cinerarium
Happy Friday Eve, everyone! I’ve had a weird week, and I’m hoping Friday will bring great things. I’m trying to work on a bunch of projects, which I’m feeling sorta excited, and I think you’ll see some of these ideas starting next week.
This is a shortish story, but, any longer and it’s be like one of those Saturday Night Live sketches that just go on so long that people have forgotten there was supposed to be a joke in there somewhere.
Today’s Word:
cinerarium
As in:
Amid the controversies surrounding the influences of violent and “vulgar” media images on America’s youth, the National Association of Theater Owners (NATO), has begun to develop a plan to more strictly enforce the Motion Picture Association of America’s ratings guidelines.
NATO forces will be enforcing the already existing guidelines by replacing the existing ticket clerks with armed guards who will check the identification of every movie patron. If any ticket holder is under the age requirement for a movie, and is without the companionship of a parent or guardian, they will be penalized with “significant economic sanctions.”
Further violations of NATO’s resolutions will result in large-scale bombing campaigns and the potential of an invasion of armed ground troops. While some feel that the measures are necessary to curb the rise of youth violence,
others feel that the plan will “go too far,” and has the potential to “turn America’s cinemas into cinerariums.”
**********************
Does anyone else find it weird that NATO is *both* an organization of countries and of a group of theater owners? Just me then. Well then.
cinerarium / SIN-er-air-ee-um / a place to receive the ashes of the cremated dead.
Word of the Day: archibutyrophobia
It’s really only Wednesday? I think I got my tech issue fixed, and I’m looking forward to getting my productivity all beefed up. I think you’ll appreciate the results. I’m looking forward to sharing new stories, more content and all sorts of other tricks with you all.
Today’s Word:
archibutyrophobia
As in:
As the craze for “extreme” sports continues to grow and to “inspire” thrill-seekers to invent new and more risky forms of recreation.
The trend has even crossed-over into the drug scene, where drug users, tired of the “tame” range of “recreational” drugs are enticed to use substances far more dangerous than the typical fare.
Among the new substances garnering attention from the drug-scene is liquid nitrogen, which is being inhaled or “snorted” by the “aficionados” of “extreme drug-use.” Participants, who often end up with severe frostbite, liken the experience to climbing Everest without proper environmental gear.
Other “extreme” substance abuse activities include “chugging” pure capsiacin oil, gargling flaming alcohol and competitive eating contests. This area of abuse had contributed to an upsurge in archibutyrophobia, as people engaging in this extreme “sport” try to consume the greatest number of peanut butter sandwiches liberally coated with a nasty mixture of alum and phenolphthalein.
**********************
Bonus words: capsiacin and phenolphthalein. Capsaicin is the stuff which gives hot peppers their “bite.” In pure, undiluted strength, it can peel your skin right off (and give you severe burns, blisters, etc). Phenolphthalein is
a compound often used in laxatives in small amounts. In larger amounts, it is recognized by the body as an extremely potent poison, and the body responds to its presence by expelling it from the system in a violent fashion. Nasty
stuff.
Oh yes, and for those that don’t know what alum does, basically, it’s a hydrophilic substance used in baking powders. If you put it straight on something which is then put into someone’s mouth, it immediately “sucks” all the moisture out of their mouth, drying it out. It works really effectively, and try though they might, saliva glands are no match for the drying power of alum. So that’s why the mixture is so nasty, and why this “sport” would be
considered “extreme.”
archibutyrophobia: / ARCH-i-butte-RO-phobia / the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.