Fissilingual /FISS il ING wool/ adj * Possessing a forked tongue.
Lask /LASK/ v * To be afflicted with diarrhea.
Cully /KULL ee/ n * Someone who is easily imposed upon, especially by a woman.
Unasinous /yoo NASS in us/ adj * Equally stupid.
Pilgarlic /pil GAR lik/ n * A sorry-looking bald person.
Agelast /AJ uh last/ n * A person who never laughs.
Challenge: Can you write a story paragraph that ties all of these words together in an artful manner? I will post my attempt later in the week.
*As always, I give reverence to Novobatzky & Shea's Depraved and Insulting English for their collection of the obscure.
Lask /LASK/ v * To be afflicted with diarrhea.
Cully /KULL ee/ n * Someone who is easily imposed upon, especially by a woman.
Unasinous /yoo NASS in us/ adj * Equally stupid.
Pilgarlic /pil GAR lik/ n * A sorry-looking bald person.
Agelast /AJ uh last/ n * A person who never laughs.
Challenge: Can you write a story paragraph that ties all of these words together in an artful manner? I will post my attempt later in the week.
*As always, I give reverence to Novobatzky & Shea's Depraved and Insulting English for their collection of the obscure.
1 comment:
here's my attempt. not sure that it's artful. it's more than one paragraph. i don't know how to finish it. but who care. i'm "not a writer" but i'm a good sport, right?
Joe was a bit of a pilgarlic, but he couldn’t help that. He started each day in the same way: shaking the deserter hairs from his pillow and downing some pink stuff (as he found himself again lasking). One would think that after years of this ritual, Joe would be an agelast. However, despite his pitiful exterior, Joe remained an optimistic as unasinous as Chuck, his aging cockapoo. (That Chuck was both optimistic and unasinous was evidenced by his continued eagerness to play fetch despite an unfortunate incident with a Frisbee that left him fissilingual.)
After smoothing down the meager strands clinging to his scalp, Joe grabbed his tool box and left for the building in Brighton Beach with the clogged toilet in unit 509. Natasha greeted him at the door, clad in black lace stretched tight over her fleshy frame. As Joe snaked the commode, Natasha wedged herself between him and the wall, where she purred a list of repairs, chores, and favors into his left ear. Joe tried to make small talk, but cully that he was, soon found himself grouting the shower, tightening two drawer-pulls on her dresser, fixing the shutter squeak in her camera, painting her toenails and lending her twenty bucks. Now dark outside, Natasha nudged him out the door -- but not before handing him two bags of garbage and a bag of recyclables.
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