As many a geek knows, Sept. 22 is the birthdate of both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins. In honor of that auspicious day, I have a story which borrows liberally from the Lord of the Rings, and from a realization that today’s word, which isn’t one of the most obscure words I’ve used, has a very story-worthy homophone (For those of you who have forgotten what a homophone is, it is a word which is pronounced the same as another word, but has a different meaning or spelling).

Many of you might recognize this word, and then wonder, what could possibly be the homophone for…

Today’s Word:

cerumen

As in:

And so, Gandalf and his companions made their way up to the Pinnacle of Orthanc, where dwelt Saruman the White.

“Saruman may have been defeated, but he is still dangerous. Beware his voice!”

Silently each pondered the nature of the wizard’s advice as they continued up the long passage way. All too soon, it seemed to the party, they had come to the door, and now it was time to enter and face the enemy inside.

“So, Gandalf. You come again. Have you not yet caused enough suffering? You have no friends in the West. Shouldn’t you be meddling in the affairs of the little people? Indeed, it is your way to meddle in the affairs of every business, whether it  concerns you or not. And, it seems today your business is to torment me in my own house.”

“Silence, Sarumen! Your place on the Council is forfeit. I have no patience for your lies. Once, you were great, Saruman, but now you will surrender your staff. You no longer merit it.”

“Merit? Merit! You stand in my house as invaders and thieves, and yet you speak of merit! I had once thought, Gandalf the Gray, that you were more noble than all those of our order, that you were one of the great. Now you show your true color! You are no greater than Radagast the Brown, Radagast the bird tamer! Show now your color to
Sudoriferous the Blue! He will not aid you now. Nor will your deeds avoid the wrath of my apprentice, Cerumen the Yellow! You know his power to corrupt the words you speak within your listener’s ear!”

“Then he follows well his master’s talent for deception. I will take your staff, Saruman. Behold! I am the White Rider!”

And as he revealed his face to Saruman, a flash flew from Gandalf’s staff, and his eyes grew small and menacing. Suddenly, from across the room, Sarumen’s staff leapt up, and landed in Gandalf’s waiting hand.

***************

Saruman, (the homophone of today’s word) is, of course, one of the bad guys in the Lord of Rings trilogy. And, of course, this isn’t quite the scene Tolkien created. I tried to be faithful to his style, and still throw in my own brand of randomness. I always wanted to know about all the other wizards, so I made a few up, to go with the
story. Sudoriferous, of course, means “producing or conveying sweat,” which matches well with cerumen.

Of course, I didn’t actually do a very good job of clarifying the meaning of the word in the story. I apologize. I figured the word had a fair chance of being previously known by a high percentage of my readers, who are well-read and have exceptional vocabularies.

Yes, I’ll stop typing now.

cerumen / seh-RUE-man / Ear wax. Cerumen is thought to repel insects. Of course, I’m pretty sure it is fairly repellant to people, too. Most of you probably remembered this one from some biology class.

I’m staring the think I might be a bit bird brained lately. Or, maybe it’s just the bird flu.

Today’s Word:

janizary

As in:

This is the tale of two friends, one a chicken, and one a turkey. For many years, the turkey followed the chicken around, through the farm yard, around the coup and across the road. The chicken, a retired member of the Chinese Chicken Army, who was used to having at least one janizary, didn’t mind at all, and eventually, the two became friends. In fact, the chicken’s tales of his days in the Chinese Chicken Army began to inspire the turkey, and soon, he decided it was time that the turkeys, like their fowl cousins, take to beak against their oppressors.

So the turkey, under the direction of the chicken, began to train his fellow coup mates for the defense of the common bird. Within months, the newly empowered turkeys were ready to strike at their oppressors and present their manifesto of poultry rights. The turkeys were fighting for the right to be again considered for the prestigious post of “National Emblem of the United States,” freedom from the annual Thanksgiving dinner craze, voting rights, guess spots on Budweiser commercials with other “cute amphibian animal stars,” and the chance to personally peck the eyes out of Martha Stewart.

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This story is dedicated to my sister Beth, as it was inspired by her goofy Thanksgiving joke:

Why did the turkey cross the road?
It was stapled to the chicken.

Type to you all tomorrow.

janizary: \JAN-eh-zehr-e\ a very loyal follower.

This word is especially cool as it is the only 6-letter, all vowel word. Ah, the English language, surprises around every corner.

Today’s Word:

aeaeae

As in:

The People’s Republic of China, not fully comprehending the folly of entrusting non-mammalian creatures to tasks best left for creatures higher on the food chain, recently began to train chickens to eradicate swarms of of insects that had, to this point, survived the attempts of humans to successfully contain the insect population. The Chicken Army of the People’s Republic, which numbers 10,000, was provided with sophisticated western weapons of destruction and advanced training, specially designed through the use of aeaeae to enable the chickens to effectively seek out and destroy tiny pests.

Unfortunately, after eradication of the insect hoards, the chickens, now empowered beyond the capacity of normal domesticated barnyard fowl, were prepared to strike back against their human oppressors.

With powerful beaks and sharp claws, the chickens quickly dispatched their human officers, including their pioneering military commander, Col. Sanders. The chickens, now mobilized, well-trained and gifted with magical properties, set on a course, which would, in time, allow them to rule the world.

*********************
I, for one, welcome our new chicken masters.

aeaeae / eye – EYE – ay / Magic.

With this story, I thought I might make a parody of a certain author’s well-known style, but, I’m not entirely certain if I was anywhere near the gold, as I’ve not really read much by this particular author. So, I’m going to let you all guess which author I was aiming for (or, possibly, at). Much more fun that way.

Today’s Word:

fulsome

As in:

It was Wednesday. Not any particular Wednesday, but the kind of day that everyone distinctly remembers as being a Wednesday-like day. Outside the glass window, Edgar stood, watching. The wood frame was beginning to be covered with snow, which was just starting to fall. The snow was light, like the fluffy kind of snow one remembers from childhood. A good kind of snow, snow that would pack easily into icy weapons, imposing forts, and stoic men of snow. Yes, thought Edgar, It was a good snow.

But Edgar’s thoughts were elsewhere. Into the quaint stillness of the snowy scene, a shot rang out. Not the shot of a small child hurling a friendly projectile of ice, but a louder one; a sound that could only be described as a gun shot.

And then the siren came. Loud and red and full of anger. It was a fulsome sound; reverberating in Edgar’s ears as he watched the falling snow. And then it was everything: Sound, light, heat, violence. Everything was that siren. And then, as suddenly and abruptly as it boomed into existence, it stopped. The two men in the vehicle emerged, and quickly moved into Edgar’s house. “Stop!” he wanted to say “Stop, this is my house, you can’t just barge in,” but the words wouldn’t come. They just burbled and choked in his mouth, and then he saw her, standing there, with the smoking gun, and waiting with a look of intense satisfaction.

“I told you I could shoot a gun,” she said.

***************
I’m pretty certain this missed the mark, but, I’ve decided that I don’t think I care. I think I like this story.

fulsome / FUL-some / excessive; cloying through surfeit.

I’m writing an introduction to this story, but, I’m not even sure why. I think it must simply be a habit.

Today’s Word:

eolian

As in:

The wind blew. It was a windy day. True, not the sort of day you wanted to watch the Particulate Matter Parade, but, well, the timing was always one of the parade’s weak points.

The parade, which was started to celebrate the often poorly represented types of floats that threw candy or other treats to the spectators, is a tradition that few miss. The planners of this event have but one requirement—all entries must shower the parade route with particulate matter.

Normally, such floats as the “Elephant Spray,” “Woodchuck Sawdust Shower,” “Ebola Eruption,” and “Shrapnel Surprise” were quite popular, however, on a windy day, the eolian particles were downright uncomfortable. As the exhibitors continued to produce a flurry of floating flotsam, spectators were rushed to the hospital with severe eye traumas, multiple lacerations and the early warning signs of massive viral infections.

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Yes, I do know the Ebola would not survive long enough to infect a parade-goer from a float. And, I also know that the incubation period of 3-10 days, so the people wouldn’t have the signs of a viral infection that quickly.

At least it’s now Tuesday.

eolian / ay – OH – lee – an / borne, deposited or eroded by the wind.

I’ve been thinking about many things in the last few weeks, and this story occurred to me a few days ago, as all of the nation’s children returned to the hallowed halls of school.

Today’s Word:

sciolism

As in:

Mrs. Wright’s third grade summer school class had just finished its special July 4th history section, and as a learning exercise, little Bobby Taylor, aged 15 and a half, and nearly a three time graduate of Mrs. Wright’s class, was assigned to present his learning over the last few months. As you will see, his presentation was something of a sciolism.

“Over two hundred years ago, before Samuel Adams was a brewer, and Ben Franklin a kind of day planner, the great nation of the North American Continent, the corporation of the United States of Canada Part II: The Shooting Starts, was founded by a shot herded around the world. It was in the seventeen hundreds that these revolting people, who lived on the east coast and had slavery and rum and mosquitoes, fought against the British and the French and Indians to get free tea. Paul Revere was also there making pots and teeth and proving he was a lousy friend who lets the horse he borrowed get captured by the British in the middle of the night.

******************
Until tomorrow…

sciolism / s – EYE – low – is – m / : superficial knowledge, especially a show of learning without any substantial foundation.

One of my not-so-secret-after-I-type-this “geek” pursuits is, well, the yo-yo. I’ve been know to carry them with me on errands, play with them while standing in line at the bank, and entertained children and coworkers with tricks of various sorts. Yes, go ahead, point and laugh. I can take it.

Today’s Word:

xanthous

As in:

In yet another example of the losses of rights and freedom in our country, a member of the International Yo Society was sent to jail for doing nothing more than engaging in his “God given right to Yo.”

Homer Frederickson, 28, was put in jail for two days when a judge spied Frederickson “Shoot the Moon” with his xanthous Duncan Hyper-Imperial Yo-Yo. Frederickson was jailed for contempt.

Judge Moore explained, “I saw this yellowish thing zip by my head, and I have to admit, it just about scared me to death.”

When released, Frederickson expressed his anger at what many have described as a “grave injustice to the people.” Frederickson declared “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was merely expressing myself. The Yo, and by extension, being in the State of Yo, should be regarded as a freedom alongside life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We will longer stand idly by while our rights are violated! The Yo and happiness for all!”

Frederickson was in the court room for the trials of several members of the International Yo Society who are accused of inciting riots over the “Yo Manifesto,” which identifies the tenets of Yoda, the Great Master.

The violence between the anti-Yo faction and the “non-violent” Yo Masters has continued to escalate, despite repeated attempts at peace. Many of the Yo Masters continue to claim human rights violations have been committed against their peaceful society by various anti-Yo factions, and demand that the guilty “shatterers of the serenity of the string” be brought to justice.

******************

Have you seen the Mountain Dew commercials with the yo-yos as weapons? I love that commercial. There are quibbles about whether yo-yos would make an actual weapon, but, I won’t bore you with the minutia I happen to have a link…

xanthous: \ ZAN-thes \ yellow, or yellowish.

Usually, the intro is the easiest part of the story to write. Sometimes I use the intro as a stalling technique to think of an idea for the story, but, not this time. This story practically wrote itself.

Today’s Word:

lazaretto

As in:

Patients at Eastside Memorial Children’s Hospital eagerly awaited a scheduled visit from the Teletubbies today. The brightly colored characters, “stars” of the popular television show, are taking a tour of pediatric wards across the nation, cheering up sick children and their families.

But the tour was sadly ended after this afternoon’s visit to Eastside, a lazaretto in the Polnthy district of the city of Remoput, when the “cuddly, colorful, and oh-so cute” Teletubbies became violently ill, and were themselves hospitalized.

Apparently, the beings, who are from another planet and have no immunity to terrestrial maladies, contracted a disease from one of the tykes, and suffered from instantaneous tissue meltdown, and each lost approximately 95% of their upper skin layer.

“The skin literally melted off of them. It was awful. They left large puddles of primary colors all over the floor of little Tommy Anderson’s room. Yuck. They’ll be cleaning that place for days,” related one witness.

Little Tommy Anderson, now undergoing psychiatric care for shock at seeing his heroes melt in front of him, is not expected to every fully recover from the trauma.

The Teletubbies are currently in the NICU at Eastside. They were placed in separate in sterile environments the size of coffee cans awaiting treatment from their own physicians.

***************

You know, I think I enjoyed that just a bit too much.

lazaretto / LAZ-eh-RET-oh / a public hospital for poor people having contagious diseases, esp. for lepers.

This idea, was “fleshed out” with help from my sister, so this one’s for her. Anyway, here’s…

Today’s Word

malison

As in:

As the population of the Earth falls deeper into sedentary lifestyles, a new super hero has emerged from the ashes of a laboratory disaster to fight the evils of heart disease, poor diet and improper eating habits. He is “The Digestinator.”

While working on an arterial plaque reduction agent, Dr. Mark Hastings, famed nutritionist and fanatic defender of arteries and digestive health, was the victim of a bizarre accident. An accident which rendered the upper layers of his body completely and totally invisible. Because of this accident, the only remaining visible parts of his corpus were his digestive system, his kidneys, liver and his spleen.

Realizing that his new situation put him in a frighteningly powerful position. A position which gave the passionate nutritionist a unique method of fighting the things he had always fought. As a startlingly visible digestive model, “The Digestinator” continued his quest. Consuming food guaranteed to insult the senses of the couch potatoes of the world, he uses his “super digestive strength” to illustrate the folly of poor eating habits.

And though he must live with this strange malison for the rest of his life,
he continues to hope that the power of digestion will allow some fulfillment of his dream of a world freed from heart disease.

***************
Yes, that’s right, a new twist on the invisible man notion. And a bit gross, maybe, but, hey, wacky weird ideas have their place as well. Until tomorrow.

malison / mal-EH-son / curse, malediction.

Can you believe this blog is four days old? Me neither. It feels so much older than that. I hope you’re not getting tired of me yet. Maybe it’s time for…

Today’s Word:

galeanthropy

As in:

It was the beginning of the end. No sooner had the tiny hamster returned from an extended visit with the strange, unshaven man, Bob, that the small rodent began to manifest the symptoms of his terrible condition. Within a few days of falling under the influence of Bob, the small creature once known as Lenny, became known to most as the cat-beast. To Bob, he was known as Fluffy, a moniker which feigned innocence and belied the creature’s true spirit of aggressive malevolence.

As the symptoms of Fluffy/Lenny’s galeanthropy deepened, his behavior became more erratic. Soon Fluffy/Lenny was rapidly alternating between states of pure contentedness and extreme agitation. He took to chasing mice, rats and others of rodent kind. Bathing became an obsession, and Fluffy/Lenny was constantly observed to be simultaneously arrogant, nonchalant, reserved and commanding. Fierce and organized were his attacks on insects, rodents and even floating leaves or bits of lint.

But, one day this fierce and evil creature happened by a mirror. Seeing a hamster in the mirror, Fluffy/Lenny bristled and showed his fangs. And then, Fluffy/Lenny saw a most unusual sight: a fierce hamster, bearing its flat rodent teeth and looking as if it were ready to pounce.

The sight of a fierce hamster resisting the attack of the mighty Fluffy/Lenny, unnerved Fluffy/Lenny greatly. The small creature backed up a step. Seeing the hamster opposing him likewise retreat, Fluffy/Lenny became confident again, and, with a swift motion, pounced toward his opponent. At that same instant, the hamster also leapt. Anticipating the colossal midair collision, Fluffy/Lenny’s heart, in a state of shock and fear, remembered that it was encased in the body of a hamster, gave out and Fluffy/Lenny fell, dead.

**************
When I started typing this story, I actually had no idea what I was going to write about. So, I started with the opening sentence. Interesting, but, still no clue. I typed the next sentence. And then I found the word. And then, I had a story. A story about a fierce hamster who scares himself to death. Yes, quite satisfying. Until next time.

galeanthropy /Gal-ee-ANT-roe-pea / The delusion that one has turned into a cat.