Word: helix

 

helix

[hee-liks]

1. a spiral.

2. Geometry. the curve formed by a straight line drawn on a plane when that plane is wrapped around a cylindrical surface of any kind, especially a right circular cylinder, as the curve of a screw. Equation: x = a sinθ, y = a cosθ, z = b θ.

3. Architecture.

1. a spiral ornament.
2. (in a Corinthian capital) either of two scrolls issuing from a cauliculus.
   Compare Corinthian (def 2).

4. Anatomy. the curved fold forming most of the rim of the external ear.

5. Biochemistry, alpha helix.

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Jeff looked at the object that had been placed in front of him and blinked.  He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.  It was a cylinder that had been covered with pages from social media websites that had been printed with a printer so old everything that came out of it looked faded.  Several lines ran up the length of the cylinder in spirals, occasionally intersecting with each other.  Each line was a different color, and they all varied in thickness almost randomly.  As a finishing touch, the entire thing had been coated with a high gloss finisher.

                “So, what do you think?”  Carl asked.

                “It looks like you did the entire thing last night.”  Jeff said bluntly.

                “Hey now, I put a lot of work into this thing.”  Carl said defensively.

                “You did do it last night, didn’t you?”

                “Well, yeah, I did, but that’s beside the point.”  Jeff sighed. 

                “Man, you really have to stop doing your projects the night before.  It’ll end up hurting you in the long run.”

                “Meh, it’s fine.  It’s a modern art class, so I can get away with pretty much anything.”

                “You still have to put some effort into it.”

                “When was the last time you went to a modern art museum?”  Carl said.  “I’ve seen pictures that were just dots on paper.  For classical art, yeah, you have to put effort into it.  But for modern art, it’s all how you spin it.  You can have a pile of dirt with a straw stuck into the top and call it art.  As long as you can come up with some kind of meaning behind it, it’s perfectly fine.”

                Jeff thought back to his last visit to that particular kind of museum.  He hated to admit it, but Carl was right.  While some of the pieces did have quite a bit of time and effort invested into them, others were little more than pieces of furniture or colorful squares of paper. 

                “Okay, so what’s the big, important meaning behind this thing?”  Jeff asked, pointing to Carl’s work.    

                Carl didn’t answer.  He looked intensely at his creation. 

                “You don’t have a meaning, do you?”  Jeff asked.

                “I will soon.”  Carl said, still looking at the cylinder.  It took him several minutes, but he finally stopped looking at it and spoke.  “Okay, I think I got something.  So, the pillar represents everything.  You know, time, the world, society, everything.  And the images and other stuff on the background represent –“

                “Please don’t say it’s social media or anything like that.”

                “No, shut up.  It’s us.  Our generation that relies on all that stuff.  It’s you, me, everyone on campus.  Basically everyone below age thirty.  At the lines are individuals.  See how they start at the bottom and spiral up to the top?  That’s life.  That’s how we live our lives.  Never going in a straight line, always moving in weird ways from one thing to the next, right?  And the points were they cross are the times when people interact with each other.  It’s so short a time that the lines only cross at one brief moment.  And the different thicknesses are our highs and lows.  The thicker parts are the good times.  The times when we’re happy and stuff.  The thinner parts are the lows.  When we’re sad or angry or something like that.  Oh, and the glossy finish is the lens we see our lives through.  To each person, our lives can look really good or really bad, depending on the moment.  It becomes exaggerated and focused, to the point where we might as well be looking at everything through a lens from the outside.”

                “And that’s it?” Jeff asked when it became clear that Carl was done.

                “Yup.”

                “It’ll never work, you know.”

                “Why not?  It’s perfect.”

                “Nothing’s juxtaposed against anything else.  From what I know, something has to have juxtaposition somewhere it there for it to be real modern art.”

                Carl looked like he was about to say something, but stopped before he did.  He thought about that for a moment before saying anything.

                “Well, damn.  You’re right.  I have to through in a few big, fancy words in there.  Maybe not juxtaposition, but something that makes it sound a lot more important than it is.”

                Carl went right for his computer and began searching the internet.  Jeff moved in behind his roommate to see what was going on.

                “What’re you doing now?”

                “Looking up big, fancy words for what I just said.  I should be able to stick in two or three by the time class starts.”

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Oh modern art museums.  It's so much fun to go to those and see what passes for art these days.  Oh, don't get me wrong, there's plenty fine, high quality artwork out there being done by amazing artists.  But then you also get the piles of glass, bunches of string, and chairs.  You know, art that's only counted as art because the person who put it together either made up some fancy description or had someone else do it for him/her.  It's interesting, to say the least.    

Word: absquatulate

absquatulate

[ab-skwoch-uh-leyt]

verb (used without object), absquatulated, absquatulating. Slang.

1. to flee; abscond:

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Jaycee looked at her inventory with pride.  She had finally done it.  It had taken her countless hours of grinding, trading, and dungeon diving, but she had done it.  She had finally crafted the rarest, most powerful, most envy inducing weapon in the game.  She simply couldn’t wait to show it off to the rest of her guild.  They would probably worship her like some kind of goddess for possessing something only a handful of other players had.

                There was only one downside.  Crafting this greatest of all weapons sent out an automatic system message congratulating her for her accomplishment.  She was already swamped with whispers that were either congratulating her, asking how much she was selling to for, begging for a handout, or many, many other things.  The sudden burst of attention was fun for a little while, but soon enough Jaycee blocked all the messages, if only to preserve some measure of sanity.  She was just glad none of her guild members were online.  She could still make her big reveal and not spoil it by the system message.

                She was about to log out for the night, when the weapon disappeared.  She looked at the spot in her inventory where the hard earned item was, and instead saw an empty slot.  She felt her eye start to twitch.  She closed and reopened her inventory, hoping it was just a slight glitch.  But no, the weapon that had taken her months to make was simply gone.

                Jaycee immediately went to look at her battle log.  Sure enough, there it was.  The message that she had been pick pocketed.  She swore louder than she probably should have and immediately went on the hunt.  Fortunately, the game told her who had stolen the near priceless weapon, and prevented the thief from simply logging out with his ill gotten gain.  She scanned the well populated city area for the thief.  She spotted him, running away as fast as the game would allow.  She immediately took off in pursuit, activating all the speed buffs she had available.  There was no way she was going to roll over and let the guy get away.

                “Alright, you little punk, let’s do this.”  She said to the screen.

                A few minutes into the chase, she had to admit he was good.  Very good, in fact.  She had been pick pocketed dozens of times before, and the chase had always ended quickly in her favor.  This guy knew what he was doing though.  Every trick she pulled to catch him, he knew one to slip out of her grasp.  He might have even shared a spot on the top 100 players list with her.  He was certainly a pro in the department of running away and avoiding capture, that was for sure.  Jaycee had to admit she was developing some grudging respect for the guy.  Not enough to stop chasing him, but still.

                As the chase continued, Jaycee found her respect giving way to anger and frustration as her opponent continued to elude her.  Every time she got close, he would manage to flee in a way that put him just out of reach and allowed him to regain the distance between them.  Her eye twitched as he continued to evade her.

                “All right, that’s it.”  She growled to the screen.  “Kid gloves are off.”

                It was time to call in the big guns.  One of the most common ways of catching a thief in the game was to put a bounty on the player’s head.  Jaycee had never needed to do so before, but this time her hand had been forced.  She knew it probably wouldn’t do much.  If this guy could avoid capture from her then a normal player wouldn’t stand a chance.  But it would make escape much harder, and would slow him down considerably.  That was all she would need.

                Suddenly, her target changed his patterns drastically.  Before Jaycee knew what was happening, he was outside the city limits.  She sat, staring at the screen in disbelief.  She had no idea how it had happened, but even after calling in a bounty, he had not only managed to evade her, but every other player in the city.  And now he was gone.  Leaving the city limits meant he could log off and disappear forever.  All that hard work, all her bragging rights; all of it gone in an instant.

                “Well…damn.”

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Not really sure if a pick pocketing system would work in a real MMO, but it's a neat idea I guess.  It would pretty much suck if something like this happened though, which it inevitably would. 

Word: Brickbat

        

brickbat

[brik-bat]

noun

1. a piece of broken brick, especially one used as a missile.

2. any rocklike missile.

3. an unkind or unfavorable remark; caustic criticism:

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       Janet threw another brick.  It slammed into her intended target, shattering bones and splattering the fleshy interior.  In a blind panic, she reached for another one and threw it with everything she had.  A miss this time.  The brick shattered on the ground, just in front of one of the horrible monstrosities.

                “Damn it!”  She swore.  She reached behind her and found her pile of bricks had been depleted.  “Damn it!”  She shouted again.  “I need more bricks!”

                “You and me both.”  Greg said.  He was down to his last few bricks himself.  Janet swore a third time. 

                “Casey, stop playing around and help!”  She shouted to the third member of their little band of survivors.  Casey looked up blinked, and went back to what he was doing.  “Seriously?”  Janet said.

                She watched the quiet young man fiddle with stray wires.  He was carefully braiding the short lengths of metal, seemingly aimlessly.  Janet was getting fed up with the guy.  They had found a nice little shelter that wasn’t nearly as nice anymore, and Casey had yet to do anything to protect it.

                “I thought you said this guy was useful?”  Janet said as she looked around the roof for anything that might be used to fend off the horde of mutants.  “So far all he’s done is a whole lot of nothing.”

                “Give him time.  He’s just… a bit different is all.”  Greg said as he hurled his last brick. 

He soon joined Janet in finding weapons.  There wasn’t much up there.  They had used all the really good stuff already.  All Janet found was some loose pipes and cables.  The pipes weren’t even sharp.  Even though the mutant’s bones were softer than a normal human’s due to decay, a blunt pipe was still not likely to do much.

“Find anything?”  Greg called.

“Nothing.  You?”  Janet called back.

“No weapons or anything, but I found some boards we can use on the doors.  It might give us some time.”

Janet scrambled over to help her fellow survivor board up the only entrance to the roof.  They didn’t have any nails though, so the barricade was shoddy at best.  It would give them a few minutes at most, if that.  Janet fell, gasping for air.  She looked over and saw Casey looking at the pipes she had discarded.  He took a few of the smaller, thinner ones and one bigger, thicker one over to his little area. 

Janet seethed.  He still had things he could use.  He had a few more bricks to throw.  He even had a cinder block left.  But he wasn’t doing anything with them.  He simply set the pipes down next to him and continued braiding wires.  Janet rushed over to him, trying to take a few of his weapons.  He quickly moved them out of her grasp, keeping everything close to him.

“You fucking idiot!”  She screamed at him.  “If you’ve got all that stuff, the least you can do is help us!  I swear you’re the most useless piece of crap I’ve ever seen!” 

“Hey now, give the guy a break.”  Greg said.  “I don’t think that stuff would make much of a difference at this point anyway.”

“That’s not the point!”  She screamed.  “We’re over here, busting out asses off trying to keep us alive, and he’s done nothing for us.  He’s completely useless!” 

“Just give him time.  It might seem like he’s not doing anything, but I promise when push comes to shove, he’ll prove his worth.”

Janet huffed and hunched over.  She didn’t have nearly the same confidence in Casey’s worth as Greg did.  She turned to watched Casey doing whatever he was doing.  He took one of his remaining bricks and a pipe and started pounding on one end of it, flattening the opening until it closed up.  He did this several times with the other short pipes before stuffing the other end with bundles of braided wires.

Janet’s attention was pulled from his work to Greg, who was shouting for her help. The mutants were closing in on them fast.  He was leaning up against the crude barrier as the horde did it’s best to break free.  Janet rushed to help him, putting all her weight into the task.  She hoped they would just give up sooner or later, even as more and more of them ganged up on them.  She was also very glad that, unlike movie zombies, the mutant’s softer bones made them weaker than normal.  They only won out with sheer numbers and tenacity, really. 

“Hey, did you find a melee weapon or anything?”  Greg asked.

“No, why?” 

“Cause I figure if we’re going down, we might as well go down fighting.  Maybe help the next guys survive by taking a bunch of them with us, you know?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Their conversation was cut short by the horde’s numbers growing too great for the two of them to hold back any longer.  They lept aside and readied themselves for a fight.  Even if it was just with their bare fists, neither of them wanted to just roll over and die.

Casey stood up as the mutant’s started coming through the doorway.  He swung something and one of their heads was blown off its shoulders.  Another swing, and another dead mutant.  Casey swung whatever weapon he had found over and over again, each time taking one of them down.  It took awhile, but there were eventually no more of the left coming up the stairs. 

Casey took a deep breath and shouldered his weapon.  It looked like a hammer made of a thick mess of wires with spikes coming out of the ends.  Janet looked and recognized the wires as the braids he had been making and the spikes were the pipes he had pounded into shape.  The handle was the larger pipe he had secured later.  She looked over at the pile and found several of the bricks and the cinder block were now missing.  It didn’t take much thought to figure out where they went.

Casey walked over to Janet and handed her the weapon.  It was definitely heavy enough to have a cinder block and a few bricks in it.

“You’re welcome.”  He said in a surprisingly deep, husky voice before walking down the now cleared stairs.

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Not quite a zombie story, but pretty close.  I'm not really sure what else to say about it other than that.   Although, I do have something about the word.  I think it's kind of a mismatch, don't you?  I mean, it sounds like it should be some kind of blunt weapon made of bricks, but it's actually referring to bricks as a thrown weapon.  Kind of funny how these things work, isn't it?

Word:mellifluous

mellifluous

adjective

1. sweetly or smoothly flowing; sweet-sounding:

a mellifluous voice; mellifluous tones.

2. flowing with honey; sweetened with or as if with honey.

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Nikkei let the thick, sweet honey slide down her throat.  She licked her lips, savoring the smooth, thick syrup. 

                “So, how is it?”  Danny asked.  He was leaning forward in his seat hopefully.

                “It’s really good.  Complex.  Where’d you get it?”  Nikkei replied. 

                “Right outside.”

                “Wait, what?  What do you mean outside?  Like, an outdoor farmers market or something?”

                “Nope, I mean right outside in my back yard.”

                “Huh?  How’d you manage that?”

                “Easy.”  Danny puffed his chest out proudly as he spoke.  “I read up on beekeeping online, and I built a few beehives out back.  I got a smoker of bee hives, found a few wild hives, and moved them to mine.  Then I planted a bunch of different kinds of flowers and other plants.  I’ve got fruit, veggies, flowers, and a bunch of other stuff back there.  The bees seem to like it, and I get some pretty good honey out of it.  I mean, yeah, I have three small hives right now, so I don’t get a lot of honey yet, but there’ll be more later.”

                “Wow, seriously?  Isn’t that kind of problematic?  I mean, to have all those bees around…”

                “Actually no, not really.  They’re honey bees, so they’re pretty docile.  As long as I don’t bother them while they’re out doing their thing it’s fine.  And I’ve been pretty careful when I’m collecting as well.  I haven’t been stung once.”

                “Do you have a bee suit or something?”

                “Not yet, no.  I just wear heavy clothes and a mask and stuff, and it seems to work.”

                “Well, if you say so.”  She said.  She was clearly not as sure about the whole thing as Danny was, but she let it slide.

                “So, what’re you going to do with the honey?  With only three hives you won’t have enough to sell or anything.”

                “Well, for now I’m just going to use it for myself.  You know, use it to make honey stuff and as a sweetener and stuff.  But I’m also trying something that I think is pretty cool.”

                “What is it?”  Nikkei asked, somewhat hesitantly.

                “Well, first I’m going to let the honey crystallize, then I’m going to break it up and grind it into a powder.  Then I’m going to put it into little pouches.  You know, the kind they use for coffee sweeteners.”

                Nikkei mulled the idea over for a few moments.  Having powdered honey as a sweetener was unusual, to say the least.  But  she couldn’t exactly deny that it could work.

                “That…that actually sounds like a good idea.”  She admitted. 

                “I know, right.  Plus, since it’s pretty much homemade, I can use that as an extra selling point.  Guaranteed organic and all that.”

                “Wow.  You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

                “You know it.  And since it’s a sweetener pouch, I can make a lot of them, even with so few hives.”

                “So, how are you going to keep the honey from sticking in the pouch?”

                “I’ve actually tested it, and the honey only gets sticky if it’s stored in a really hot, moist place.  Otherwise it’s fine.

                “Sounds good.  What about the packaging?”

                “I’m pretty sure you can get that stuff online or something.  I just have to come up with a name.” Danny was quite clearly planned everything out quite well.  Nikkei was actually impressed with how much planning had gone into it all.

                “Ah.  So, do you have any ready?”

                “Of course.  Try it out.”

                He handed her a small container or a yellowish powder, a spoon, and a cup filled with what looked like tea.  Nikkei placed a spoonful of the honey powder in the drink and tasted it.  It was a subtle, but she could taste the honey she had placed in it.  She placed another spoonful into the tea and it was definitely honey sweetened tea.

                “Well, it certainly works.”  She said as she finished off the drink.

                “Awesome.  And the honey itself is good too, right?” Danny asked, just to make sure.

                “Yup.  I think all those plants you have back there gives it a lot of different flavors.  It still carries through when you’ve powdered it also, so it’s all good.”

                “Great.”  Danny said, clearly proud of his efforts.  “Now then, I’ve got some other things I’ve used it for.  You want to try it out?”

                “Sure, that sounds nice.”  

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I wonder if something like this actually exists.  If not, I'm surprised it hasn't.  I bet someone tries it at some point in time though.

Also, as a side note, I wasn't really sure how to end this one.  I'm not sure if this was the best way to go about it, but it's all I could think of right now.  Maybe someday it'll get updated, but we'll see what happens.