Word: Axiomatic

 

axiomatic

\ ak-see-uh-MAT-ik \  , adjective;

1. pertaining to or of the nature of an axiom; self-evident; obvious.

2. aphoristic.

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                “Are you blind?  It’s so obvious.”  Craig said in frustration.  Nick just grumbled as he stared at the sheet of paper.  “Seriously, man.  A kid could solve it.  I mean that.  This is actually meant for kids.  Anyone with half a brain can do it.”  Craig paused for a moment before continuing.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Did I offend you?”   He said in a way only useable for those who had been friends for years.

                “Oh, shut up.”  Nick grumbled.

                “I’ll stop when you figure this thing out.  It’s not that hard.  I took two minutes.”

                “Yeah well, maybe only an idiot can solve something like this.  You know, make them feel better about themselves.”

                “Uh huh.”  Craig said.  He watched Nick puzzle over the riddle some more before speaking again.  “You want a hint?”

                “No.”  Nick said bluntly.

                “You sure?  It looks like you need one.”

                “I don’t want a hint.  At least not from you.”

                “Ok then.  You’ll never get it then.”

                “Yes I will.  I just need to think about it some more.”

                “If you say so.”  Craig said, not even trying to hide his amusement.

                “Yeah, I do.  Besides, if you can answer it, I can too.”

                “Most of the time, I’d agree.  But since you still haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not so sure.”

                Nick just grumbled some more out of frustration.  The truth was, he had found an answer to the riddle.  The problem was, it was so simple and obvious, that it couldn’t possibly be the correct answer.  Being obvious defeated the whole point of a riddle, and so the obvious solution couldn’t be the right one.  There had to be something else that he just wasn’t seeing.  Yet.

                Craig hovered around Nick for awhile, watching him puzzle out the riddle.  Eventually though, he went and sat on the nearby couch.  Nick was quite happy not to have the distraction.  That is, until Craig started whistling.  It was a tuneless string of sounds that threw off Nick’s concentration.

                “Do you have to do that now?”  He asked.

                “Do what?”  Craig said in mock ignorance before resuming his tune.

                “That.  That incessant noise you’re making.”

                “I don’t think my whistling is that bad, is it?”

                “It is when I’m trying to focus.”

                “Yeah, see, I think that’s the problem here.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, you’re trying too hard.”  Nick looked at his friend blankly.  It was like Craig was trying to overload his system with another riddle while he was still puzzling over the first one.

                “Huh?”

                “See, you’re so busy trying to find an answer that you think makes sense that you’re overlooking the one that’s right in front of you.  Try not thinking so hard and see what you come up with.”

                Nick huffed.  Craig was speaking nonsense.  How could thinking less come up with a solution when careful thought couldn’t?  Nevertheless, his current thought process wasn’t getting him anywhere, so he figured he might as well give it a shot.

                Nick let his mind go blank and looked at the riddle again.  The first answer he saw jumped out at him right away.  But now it made much more sense.  In fact, it seemed downright reasonable that it was the right answer.  He picked up a pencil and scribble his solution down under the words.  Craig stood and went to see what had been written down. 

                “See?  That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  Craig said, clapping Nick on the back.

                “Wait, you mean this is actually right?”  Nick asked.

                “Yup.  The one and only correct answer.”

                “No way.  It’s too simple.  A child…could…”  Nicks words drifted off as he realized what he had just said.

                “Told you so.”  Craig said with a cocky grin plastered to his face.  “You gotta loosen up man. Over thinking things’ll get you in trouble one day.”

                “Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I get it.”

                “Good.  So, you want to try another one?"
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 Remember folks, sometimes the simplest solution is the best solution.  Not always, but often enough. 

Word: Frivol

 

frivol

\ FRIV-uhl \  , verb;

1. to behave frivolously; trifle.

2. to spend frivolously (usually followed by away): to frivol away one's time .

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“You know what we should do?  We should go out dancing or something.”  Molly said.  She sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, looking at Jeremy hopefully.

                “Can’t.  Too busy.”  He said simply.  Molly’s shoulders slumped at the bland response.

                “Oh come on.  That’s boring.  Don’t be boring.”

                “I’m not boring.  I just don’t care about those frivolities that you call fun.”

                “Yes you are.  You’re boring.  I mean, it’s eight o’clock on a Friday and you’re here, in your dorm room, doing homework of all things.  Maybe if you were playing a game or something, I could live with it.  But homework?”

                “This is a very important project.  I’ll need some time to finish it.”

                “But all weekend?”

                “Sure.”

                Molly flopped back on the bed and leaned over the side.  Her hair fell around her and landed on the floor.  She huffed a stray strand out of her eyes and grimaced at Jeremy.

                “You know, if you only do work you’ll go nuts, right?  I mean, you have to unwind sometime.”

                “I will.  Once I finish.”

                “Pff, no you won’t.  You’ll just find some other boring thing to do.  You know you will.”

                “And what of it?  There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be productive.”

                “There’s a difference between being productive and being a dull workaholic.  You fall squarely in the second category.”

                “I fail to see the problem with that.”

                Molly grumbled.  She was getting nowhere.  All she wanted was to take Jeremy out dancing with her, and he was resisting.  She needed something to get him out of his books.  She looked around an quickly found something.  She rolled off the bed and headed to his computer.

                “Hey is your computer on?”

                “Yes.”  Jeremy said with an exasperated sigh.

                Molly wiggled the mouse a bit and the screen came to life.  She went right to the internet browser and it wasn’t long before the small room was filled with upbeat dancing music.  Molly raised her hands over her head and started a full body gyration that was she reserved for dancing in clubs and the like.   Jeremy stopped working for a moment and looked at her.

                “What are you doing?”  He asked.

                “Simple.  I want to dance, so I’m dancing.”

                “That’s not dancing.”  He said flatly.

                “Sure it is.  I’m moving to the music, and that means dancing.”

                “It’s just wiggling, not dancing.”

                “Well then, get up and show me some real moves.”

  She swayed over to Jeremy and moved around his chair, swaying and gyrating all the while.  Jeremy looked wholly uninterested in her display.  He turned back to his desk and resumed working.  Molly stopped dancing and slumped her shoulders.

“Oh come on, really?”  She said.

“Like I said, I’ve got better things to do.”

“You know, I think you’re the only guy I know who won’t dance with me.”

“What about Tedd?”
                “Ok, so you’re the only straight guy I know that won’t dance with me.”

“Yes, well, I suppose I just think with a different head than most guys do.  Now ,if you are quite finished?”

She wasn’t.  At this point it was more than just wanting to have some fun with him.  It was now a challenge.  She would get him out of that chair, she just needed to use the right tactics.  He had already shown himself to be resistant to her formidable feminine wiles.  Using them was still not completely off the table, but it would have to wait to be a weapon of last resort.  She moved in behind him and flicked the back of his head. 

                “Come on, let’s go.  It’s only a few hours.”  She said.

                “No.”  He replied bluntly.  She flicked him again.  He grumbled his annoyance, but stubbornly refused to acknowledge her efforts.

                She repeatedly flicked the back of his head in time to the still playing music.  Jeremy felt his eye twitching at the constant, small interruptions in his concentration.   Molly continued unabated with her small assaults on the back of his head.

                “Are you going to stop any time soon?”  He said eventually.

                “Nope.”

                “Look, if you want to go clubbing so badly, then why not call one of your legion of fanboys?  I’m sure they’d accommodate you.”

                “First of all, it’s dancing, not clubbing.  I have a place in mind for that.  For both, actually, but never mind that.  And second, I’ve got my mind made up on going with you, and I will not be denied.  I’ll stop when you agree to go with me.”

                “Well then you’ll be here a long time.”  He said defiantly before returning to work. 

                Molly stood there, flicking his head as Jeremy tried to work.  He had to admit, between her actions and the music playing, it was getting harder and harder to focus on his task.  Still, he was as adamant about not going as she was about going. 

That is, until she started humming.  It was quiet at first, hidden by the music from his computer.  Then she started humming louder.  She tried to hum along with the beat of the music as well as she could, but fell short.  For all of her good points, making music was not one of them.  Her jarring, discordant humming clashed with the actual music, and combined with her constant flicking, it made it impossible for him to work.

“Alright, fine.  If I go with you, will you stop bugging me about it?”

“Of course.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

“Oh yay.  Don’t worry, I promise you’ll have fun.”  Molly said giddily. 

She bounded over and turned off the computer before heading to the door.  Jeremy slumped out of his chair and followed behind her as she left the dorm room.  She was quite happy, both with her victory and with the prospect of having some fun.  Jeremy was somewhat less so, the prospect of such idle amusement not sitting well with him.  Still, he had to admit she was right, getting out and doing something other than work would be good for him.  He might as well try it.  Maybe some of her attitude would rub off on him while on the dance floor.

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That ending might be a bit abrupt, but it's all I could think of.  Think it's ok?  Maybe if I ever rework these stories I'll try something else. Of course, it would probably have to be longer, but whatever.  And of course I do have a lot of other things I'd want to do first, but still.  We'll just have to see what happens, won't we?

Word: Picayune

 

picayune

\ pik-ee-YOON, pik-uh- \  , adjective;

1. of little value or account; small; trifling: a picayune amount .

2. petty, carping, or prejudiced: I didn't want to seem picayune by criticizing .

noun:

1. (formerly, in Louisiana, Florida, etc.) a coin equal to half a Spanish real.

2. any small coin, as a five-cent piece.

3. Informal . an insignificant person or thing.

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The thin glass door of the pawn shop opened without a sound to signal the arrival of a customer.  A large, tired looking man behind the counter raised his eyes from the magazine he had been reading to see who had entered his store.  A thin, sweaty man in cheap, bargain bin clothes cautiously approached the counter.

                “What?”  The store owner said gruffly.

                “I-I have some things I’d like to sell.”  The thin man said quickly.

                The owner slowly sat up in his chair and motioned for the customer to present his goods. The thin man reached into his pocket and pulled out a collection of small items:  a coin, a red stone, and a pack of gum.  The owner looked over the motley assortment of items and sighed.  He could tell they were probably worthless without even examining them, but he also knew looks could be deceiving sometimes.  His fat fingers closed on the coin first.

                “I-it’s a coin from 1834.”  Said the customer hopefully.  “I-it should be worth a lot, right?”  The owner examined the coin for a minute before giving his answer.

                “I’ll give you two bucks for it.”

                “What?  No way!  It must be worth a few hundred, easy.”

                “Naw, see, it’s fake.  Not even a good one either.”

                “B-but it says 1834 right on it.”

                “Don’t mean it’s from then, now does it?  It’s way too…nice for being from that time.  Definitely made with modern stuff.  Also, if it was old, it’s be almost unreadable.  There’s a lot of other stuff I could tell you if you want.”

                “N-no, no, I understand.”  The man said sadly.  The owner picked up the stone next and examined it.

                “Twenty-five cents.”

                “Really?  So low?  But isn’t it a ruby?”

                “Really?  You really think that?  It’s a lump of colored glass and you know it.  Ya don’t even need to be an expert to know that.”

                “W-well I was just kind of, you know, hoping?” 

                “Uh huh.  Sure you were.  And let me guess, this gum here’s from the 30’s or something, right?”  The store owner said as he picked up the gum.

                “40’s actually.  See?  It says it right on the label.”

                “Yeah, see, this is a reprint.  Sometimes companies like to remake old labels and stuff.  Makes it seem retro or something like that.  I can’t even buy this one for any price.  You’re better off just eating the stuff.”

                “B-but wouldn’t ii be too hard?”  The man asked. 

“Hard?  I just told you, this stuff was made not too long ago.  See, it says so right here.”  The owner pointed out a place on the label that showed when the gum was made.  It wasn’t even a month old.

“S-so nothing I’ve got is worth anything?”  The customer asked.

“Not a thing.”

“Really?  You’re not just trying to scam me or something, are you?”

“Hey now, I run an honest business here.  I’m not gonna let you accuse me of scamming my customers.”  The owner exclaimed. 

“S-sorry.  I-it’s just that maybe I’ve got some good things here and you’re just trying to get them for a lot less than they’re worth?”

“You don’t like it?  Then take these pieces of junk to someone else and see what they say.  I’m being generous here with this junk, ‘specially that coin.  Anyone else probably’d give you a few pennies and call it a day.”

“O-oh.  Sorry.”  The customer said.  He hung his head in shame and sorrow.  The store owner rolled his eyes.  He had seen this happen more times than he cared to remember.

“Look, if you come back with something that’s actually worth something, then we’ll talk.  Until then, you either take your $2.25, buy something, or leave.  You’re choice.”

                The thin customer hesitated for a moment.  He looked at the trio of items on the counter for a moment.  The store owner could almost hear the gears turning in the man’s head.

                “I’ll take it.”  He said finally. 

He didn’t exactly sound very enthusiastic about it, but the owner didn’t much care about that.  He simply opened the register, pulled out the money and handed it to the man.

“There.  Now, unless there’s something you want to buy…”

“N-no, that’s all.”

“Alright then.  Don’t forget your gum on the way out.”

                The thin man nodded glumly as he picked up the gum.  He shuffled out the door without taking his eyes off the floor.  The owner shook his head and went back to reading the magazine, hoping that the next customer would actually buy something.

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Ok, this may not be my best work, but they can't all be winners, right?  Honestly, I didn't have much of an idea where this was going while I was writing it so I just kind of went along with it.  But I guess that's what one is supposed to do with all stories, more or less.  Meh, whatever.  I'll just have to try and do better next time, won't I?