Word: Shtick

 

shtick

\ shtik \  , noun;

1. Slang . one's special interest, talent, etc.

2. Slang . (especially in comic acting) a routine or piece of business inserted to gain a laugh or draw attention to oneself.

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                Greg furiously typed out his ideas into his laptop.  His mind raced to figure out how to make the material really work.  So far, nothing he had tried seemed right.  It was either done to death, or far too obscure for most audiences.  He had a good feeling about this routine though.  So far, it was shaping up to be his best yet.

                “What are you doing?”  Said Greg’s roommate, Nick.  He seemed to come out of nowhere, and the question jarred Greg to the point where he almost jumped out of his seat.  As it was, he simply lost his train of thought.

                “I was trying to come up with a new shtick for my show this week.  I have to make this one good.”  Greg said, trying to recall what was supposed to come next.  Nick sighed and slumped his shoulders.

                “Seriously?  You’re still trying?  I’ve told you like, twenty times you’re not cut out for the comedy scene.”

                “I am so.”  Greg said defensively.  “I just haven’t found my niche yet is all.”

                “Your niche is somewhere not related to comedy.  Seriously, you’re just not funny.”

                “Are you kidding?  I’m hysterical.  At least I will be once I get the right routine down.”

                “Look, Greg, I like you, but you’re delusional.  I mean, how many times have you tried stand-up comedy before?  Ten?  Fifteen?”

                “Six so far.”  Greg said bluntly.

                “And how many times have you gotten so much as a chuckle out of your audience?”

                Greg didn’t want to answer.  He knew he had yet to succeed.  In fact, he had even been booed off the stage during one of his shows.  But he felt that somewhere, deep down inside was a comedian just waiting to emerge.  He just needed the right shtick to do so. 

                “That’s all just the beginning.  I have to learn what doesn’t work before I can focus in on what does.  And I think I may have hit the jackpot with this one.  Take a look.”

                Greg slid his chair aside and let Nick read what he had written so far.  Nick looked over the words and had to keep himself from cringing every other line.  The whole thing was made up of bad puns, clichéd one liners and unfunny attempts at observational humor.  The thing fell flat from the very first line.

                Greg looked at his roommate hopefully reading his material.  The fact that Nick hadn’t laughed once was fine.  It was really just words right now.  It needed his delivery to really make it funny.  He waited anxiously for Nick to finish.

                “Well?  Great stuff, isn’t it?”  Greg said once Nick had finished.

                “You know what’s funny about this?”  Nick said, turning to look at Greg, “It’s that you think this will make anyone laugh.  Seriously, it’s terrible.  It’s an insult to comedy, really.”

                Greg couldn’t believe what he had just heard.  How could Nick think such fine comedy was junk?  He shoved Nick out of the way and sat huddled over the computer keyboard.”

                “Oh, what do you know?  This stuff is golden.  Anyway, I’m not even close to being done with it.  You’ll see, once I’m finished, the audience will be on the floor laughing.”  He looked at the words on the screen, sure that he had struck comedy gold with them.

                “Uh huh.  You just keep telling yourself that.  I’ll be over here, watching TV.  I think there’s some real comedians on right now.  Maybe you should watch.  Maybe you’ll learn what really goes into comedy.”

                Greg just grumbled and resumed his work.  He searched his mind for new lines to fit into his routine.  Nick’s interruption had jarred most of them loose, but they were there.  He just had to find them.  He would be a comedian, he was sure of that.  He just needed more practice.
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I've never tried it myself, but supposedly, stand-up comedy is actually really hard to do.  I can't imagine me doing it, that's for sure.  Getting up in front of large crowds in not easy or enjoyable for me, and I'd probably screw it up in dozens of different ways, no matter how good the material is.  But that's just me.  Obviously, there's no shortage of potential and actual comics out there who do just that all the time.  My hat off to those brave souls.

Word: Laden

 

laden

\ LEYD-n \  , adjective;

1. burdened; loaded down.

verb:

1. to lade.

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Steve huffed up the hill with his feet dragging every step.  His lungs burned for more oxygen.  His legs and back begged him to stop moving.  Sweat poured down every bit of his body, some of it even getting into his mouth and eyes. 

                “Come on Steve!  Don’t lag behind so much!”  Said one of the two girls who were walking in front of him.  Steve raised his head, noticing that the ache in his back was moving up through his neck to the back of his head.

                “Yeah, pick up the pace.  We’ll leave you behind if you don’t.”  The other girl said with a large grin on her face.

                “You two could help me out with this stuff you know.  I’d probably move faster then.”  Steve huffed out.  The two girls looked at each other.

                “Seriously?  A big, strong man like you asking help from two delicate flowers like us?”  Said one of them while batting her eyelashes and pouting her lips in an over the top manner.

                Steve paused.  On the one hand, his masculine pride demanded he give in to the girl’s taunting.  On the other, every muscle in his body begged him to simply drop the heavy, overstuffed backpack and collapse on the soft grass.  He looked at the two girls who were obviously expecting him to say something.  He wanted to come up with some witty retort to the obvious provocation.  Unfortunately, his brain was not working at full capacity.

                “Oh yeah, like you two are delicate.”  He said through his gasping breaths.  That was not the right answer.  Both girls flashed him unpleasant looks.

                “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

                “Just what it sounds like.  Nothing delicate about you two.”  A part of Steve’s mind was telling him not to pursue this topic any further, apologize, and just keep moving.  The rest of him didn’t much care.  “I mean really.  Both of you are the least feminine girls I know.  Leslie regularly benches her own bodyweight and Kelly beats someone up whenever she thinks someone’s making fun of her.  Yeah, not exactly dainty little ladies.  So you’ll forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled that you’re letting me carry a backpack that feels like it’s filled with large rocks while you two have nothing.”

                Both girls just looked at him, stunned at how blunt he was being with them.  He was usually much more jovial about the way they joked with him.  Neither really knew how to respond to him acting like that.  It was as if he was mad at them.  A silent exchange between the two went on while Steven made his way up the hill, steadily catching up with the two girls, at which point he simply collapsed against a tree. 

                “Ok, fine.”  Said Leslie eventually.  “You’ve been a good boy lately, so I guess we can help you out a bit.”

                “Yeah, but you’re still getting most of it.”  Kelly chimed in.

                “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  As long as I don’t carry all of this thing, I’m fine.”

                Kelly and Leslie grinned at each other before going into the backpack.  They shifted through the items and picked out some of the lightest items that they could easily carry on their backs. 

                “There you go.  Now you don’t have everything in there anymore.”  Kelly said cheerfully.

                “T-that’s it?  Really?”  Steve asked, seeing what the girls had chosen.

                “Yup.”

                “You two are evil, you know that?”

                “Flattery will get you nowhere.”  Leslie said wickedly, “Now get up and let’s get moving.  We’ve got a long way to go after all.”

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

Should I have added more at the end there?  Or maybe said the girl's names earlier?  Well, maybe in the future if I ever revise these stories I'll do somethings to it.  Other than that, I'm not sure what else to say.

Word: Polaris

Polaris

\ poh-LAIR-is, -LAR-, puh- \  , noun;

1. Astronomy . the polestar or North Star, a star of the second magnitude situated close to the north pole of the heavens, in the constellation Ursa Minor: the outermost star in the handle of the Little Dipper.

2. a two-stage U.S. ballistic missile, usually fired from a submerged submarine.

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

“Daddy, when are we gonna be there?”  Shelly wined from the back seat.  Her father, Adam, was tempted to rub his temples, but at the speeds they were traveling, taking his hands of the wheel wouldn’t be a great idea.

                “We’ll get there when we get there.”  He said, trying not to snap at his very young daughter.

                “But when will that be?”  She asked.

                Adam risked a look at his wife, Gina, who was busy with her own tasks.  She sighed and turned to look at Shelly.  The child looked back at her mother with eyes that showed her frustrations on being kept cooped up for so long.

                “Dear, we’ve been over this.  We have a very long way to travel, so you need to be patient.”  Gina said, as soothingly as her fraying nerves would allow.

                “Than how come we can’t go faster?”  Shelly asked.

                “Because there’s a lot of rules that tell us how fast we can go.  It’s so we don’t hit anything and get into an accident.”

                “Like what?”

                “Well, other cars for one thing.”

                “I don’t see any cars.”  Shelly looked at the window and saw the family’s surroundings go by at blinding speeds.

                “That’s because everyone’s going so fast that we won’t see each other until we’re really close.  And if that happens, than we might hit each other.”

                “Oh.  So we can’t go too fast because we might run into someone on accident?”

                “That’s right dear.”

                Shelly sank into her seat, suddenly much more aware of what was going on outside the windows.  Gina turned back to her task.  She looked at the small glowing display in front of her, thankful that her daughter had finally quieted down, even if it was for an unpleasant reason. 

                “Honey, we’ve got some bad weather coming up.”  She said, reacting to the report on the display.  Adam nodded and made the needed adjustments to their course.

                “What’s bad weather got to do with stuff?”  Shelly asked.  She had lost focus on watching for other vehicles, as her mothers words had piqued her curiosity. 

                “Well, dear, remember in school when you learned about all the stuff that’s out here?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Well some of it is very bad for the car, especially when we’re traveling like we are.  So we need to avoid as much of it as possible.”

                “Or we’ll have an accident?”  Shelly asked.

“That’s right.  So, right now mommy needs to keep an eye out for stuff in front of us so we don’t run into anything, alright?”

                Shelly nodded and resumed her personal vigil of looking out the window.  She had quite a bit more she needed to look out for now. 

                “I told you we should’ve taken a public transport.”  Adam said, speaking quietly enough that Shelly wouldn’t hear.  “At least she knows to mind her manners a bit better in those.” 

                “Oh those things are so inconvenient though.  They have to stop at every station along the way.  We’ll get there in half the time this way.”  Gina said.

                “Yeah, right.  It just seems to be taking twice as long is all.”

                “Oh be nice dear.  You know we need this.”

                “Yeah, yeah.  A fun family get together and all that.  I just hope Polaris is worth the trip.”

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

Everything is better in space!  Well, maybe not everything.  That whole dyeing in a horrible, cold vacuum should even the slightest thing go wrong would probably suck.  And you know those vast distances make the odds of something happening increase greatly.  And well, any number of other horrible things.  But hey, it's SPACE!!!  

Word: foofaraw

 

foofaraw

\ FOO-fuh-raw \  , noun;

1. a great fuss or disturbance about something very insignificant.

2. an excessive amount of decoration or ornamentation, as on a piece of clothing, a building, etc.

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

A sudden shout jerked Peter out of blissful slumber.  His half opened eyes probed the near darkness of the small room.  His blurred vision found the red digital numbers that showed him it was in the very early a.m.  And yet, even though the lights were off, there was still enough of it to see by.  In this case though, the light came from a computer monitor.

                His roommate, Henry, was still up and playing a video game.  It was from him that the offending shout had come from.  Peter reminded himself that murder was still frowned upon by well, everyone, and that a good night’s sleep was not grounds for justifiable homicide.  Peter groaned and rolled over to look at Henry, who was busy doing something that appeared to be a dance of joy.

                “Dude, do you know what time it is?”  Peter muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

                “Time?  Who cares about time?”  Henry asked, whirling around in the cheap, yard sale office chair.

                “Everyone sane.”

                “Sanity is for the weak.”  Henry scoffed.  Peter rolled his eyes and slowly sat up, leaning against the wall for support.

                “In that case, you’d be the strongest guy alive.”  Henry didn’t respond.  Peter was sure that he probably took it as a compliment.  Probably the only person alive that would.  “So what’s got you so excited that you had to wake me up from a dream involving bikini models and lots of pudding?”

                “I just got, like, the best thing ever!”  Henry said, a little too enthusiastically. 

                “Huh?”

                “Here, come and check out the sweetness of what I just got.”

                Peter slid out of bed and shuffled over to the computer screen.  Henry proudly showed off his game character.  None of what Peter saw made sense.  All he saw was Henry’s character wearing some kind of overly fancy robes or dress or some such.  To Peter, it just made Henry’s character look way too effeminate for a male avatar.  He figured it was normal for that particular game though.

                “Ok, and what am I looking at?”

                “The clothes, man, the clothes!” 

                “You mean the ones that make your guy look like a girl?”

                “They do not make him look like a girl!  That is the rarest armor set in the game.  You can only get it by a lottery system.  One with a really, really slim chance of winning.  I think there’s maybe a hundred or so people with this set in the entire server.  And now I am proud to say I’m one of them.”

                “You woke me up because you found a fancy new outfit for your game character?”

                “First of all, I didn’t wake you up. Second, this isn’t just an outfit.  This set consists of four of the most coveted items in the game!  It’s a huge deal.  This is the kind of thing that gets noticed.  With this, I become one of the most envied players in the game.  Do you not know what this means?”

                “It means you can find a fake girlfriend that’s probably a guy, settle down and have fake kids and live out a perfect fake life.”  Peter said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

                “I don’t think you really get how big this is.”  Henry said with all seriousness.

                “Clearly not.”

                “With this, my online popularity will soar.  I’ll probably get invited into one of the big guilds, just for this.  This armor set is my ticket to the big time!”

                “You know what you remind me of right now?  You remind me of Calvin wanting to call the newspapers because he saw a robin.”

                “Hey now, I’m not that bad.”  Henry said.

                “Who was it that was dancing in his seat just a few minutes ago?”

                “Er, well.  To be fair, this is different from a boy seeing a bird you know.”

                “Yup, this is a college student getting a shiny thing made of pixels.”

                Henry spun back around to face his computer with a huff.  Peter figured since he couldn’t come up with a good response, he would just say nothing.  Henry crossed his arms in front of him and pouted, an action which was lost on Peter, who couldn’t see his roommate’s face. 

                “What’s the matter?  Doesn’t your new armor help you think of things to say?”  Peter asked, poking fun at Henry’s excitement.  Henry just huffed again.  “Mm hm.  Yeah, I thought so.  Now, if you excuse me, us weak folks tend to like sleeping.”  

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Not really sure how well the ending works, but I couldn't think of anything else.  Maybe later I will.  As for the story, I must admit I have gotten a bit too excited over getting an in game item before as well.  I didn't wake anyone up with my tiny little celebration, but still.  Oh, and as a side, if you were wondering, here's the Calvin and Hobbes comic being brought up.