Word: Valetudinarian

valetudinarian

[val-i-tood-n-air-ee-uh n, -tyood-]

noun

1. an invalid.

2. a person who is excessively concerned about his or her poor health or ailments.

adjective

3. in poor health; sickly; invalid.

4. excessively concerned about one's poor health or ailments.

5. of, relating to, or characterized by invalidism.

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The glass hit the floor and shattered, spilling the contents all over the floor.  The man gasped, fighting for air.  His bony arm shook from the effort it had taken just to move enough to attempt to pick up the glass.  He tried to clench his fist, but given how weak he was, it didn’t have anywhere near the impact the gesture normally had.

                He looked at the puddle of water and broken glass.  He couldn’t take it anymore.  He had been in that bed for too long.  He forced his pained, weak body to move and slid out of the bed.  He hit the floor hard.  Water chilled him and glass bit him, but he didn’t care.  He just needed to get out of the bed. He tried to force himself to stand up, but his arms and legs refused to do anything more than they already had.

                The door burst open and someone ran into the room.  The man didn’t need to see the person to know who it was.  The woman rushed to his side and lifted him back up onto the bed.  She then ran to get towels and linen bandages, rushing to dry him off and bind the shallow wounds made by the glass.  She scolded him the entire time.  Told him not to move around and aggravate the illnesses that plagued him.  He tuned her words out.  He had heard them too many times already.

                He summoned up the strength needed to finally look at her.  He immediately turned away.  It was her eyes.  They were filled with pity.  Pity for the poor, sick invalid that was under her care.  he hated those eyes.  He wished she would look at him differently.  Sadness, indifference, even annoyance or anger would have been fine.  Anything other than pity.  He couldn’t stand pity.

                He scowled, let out his best attempt at a growl, and pushed her away with as much of his arm and shoulder as he could muster.  She moved back, more because she chose to than because of his efforts, and looked at him with those pitying eyes.  He barked at her to leave him alone.  She didn’t move.  He tried again and immediately froze.

                One of his more severe illnesses was starting.  His heart beat faster and his lungs started to stiffen, making every breath a battle.  He gasped and clutched his thin chest and his eyes bulged with panic.  The woman ran to the bedside and ruffled through the myriad of bottles on his night table until she found the one containing the medicine to quiet his heart and soften his lungs.  Without even bothering with water, she shoved the large red pills down his throat.  She then forced him down and began pressing and releasing his chest to keep his lungs working as much as she could until the pills started working several minutes later.

                Both of them breathed heavily once they calmed his symptoms enough.  He did so to fill his body with air, and she out of relief that he was still alive.  She looked at him with eyes of happiness instead of pity.  He could live with that.

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Man, getting sick with one illness sucks enough as it is.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have several at once.  

Word: Smithereens

smithereens

[smith-uh-reenz]

plural noun

1. small pieces; bits:

broken into smithereens.

             

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               The small room was surprisingly well lit, considering its purpose.  In fact, it almost looked pleasant.  Not only was it well lit, it was fairly clean and had a fairly decent desk and chairs set up.  All in all, it seemed like any other small business that was just getting started.  Neither Max nor Jim were fooled by the room’s exterior.  The fact that they were led into the room by a man almost as wide as they were tall helped in that department.

                “Customers, boss.”  The big man said in a deep, rumbling voice.  The man sitting behind the desk looked up from whatever he was doing and regarded the two visitors.  The boss was a well dressed man, which was at odds with his otherwise thuggish appearance.

                “Who’re you two with?”  The boss asked.

                “Nobody.  We’re independent.”  Max replied.  The boss’ eyes narrowed as he looked at Max.

                “Okay.”  He said, leaning back in his chair.  “So, what can I get you two?”

“Something that makes a really big boom.”  Jim said.

                “Explosives, huh?  Roy, get Eddie in here.”  The boss said. The big man lumbered out of the room.  “Eddie’s our explosives expert.  He’ll hook you up real good.  Of course, I hope you know nothing here comes cheap, right?”

                “We can pay.”  Max said.  Another long gaze from the boss and he seemed to be satisfied.

                A moment later a thin, wiry man with wild eyes and stringy hair entered the room.  His eyes darted around the room almost at random, never lingering very long in any one spot.  His steps were small and quick as he approached the desk and heaved a large suitcase up onto the desk.

                “These the guys who wanna blow something up?”  Eddie asked in a manic, energetic voice.

                “That’s them.  Show ‘em the good stuff.”  The boss said.

                “Oh goody, yes, I’ve got lots and lots of good stuff.  I’ve got grenades of all kinds, and cocktail mixes and all sorts of fun toys.”  Eddie said as he opened the case.  “I can give you all the good stuff like that, but I think the things I make myself are better.  Like this one.”  He held up a small plastic tube covered with little dimples.  “You throw it and when it hits something it makes a big explosion that makes a lot of little explosions.  It’s so much fun!  Turns whoever it hits from one big person into lots and lots of little person chunks.  Oh, and then I have this one, which…”

                “Uh, we…we’re not really looking for anti-personnel stuff.”  Jim interrupted.  “We’re in the market for a more demolition oriented blast.”

                “Ooohh, that’s even better!  I love demolishing things!  Much bigger explosions, you know.”  Eddie said and immediately started rummaging through the case.  Jim and Max looked at each other, worried that the man’s mad rummaging might set something off.  “I’ve got all the normal stuff.  C4, dynamite, and the like.  But the real fun stuff is my own stuff.  Here, look at this one.”

                He held up a block of green-brown plastic for the two of them to see.  Max stepped forward a bit to get a better look at it, but didn’t dare touch the thing.

                “It’s like a bigger version of that other one.  It makes a big explosion, and then lots and lots of little ones.  All that’s left will be little, tiny bits of whatever it was attached to.  It’s so much fun hearing all the booms going off like that.  It really is.  Oh, but here’s my favorite.”  This time he held up a bright red block.  “I call this one the Magician, because it makes everything in its blast range disappear.  And it makes such a satisfying ka-boom.  Nothing else like it, I promise you that.  Oh-oh, how about one that leaves this really cool green powder behind.  It glows in the dark, you know.  So much fun watching that stuff go everywhere.  Just like the building it’s attached to!  It blows up, and then glows green for a week.”

                “Uh, I think we’ll take that first one.”  Max said.  With a silent look at each other, both men had decided on that one, if only to prevent them from hearing any more of Eddie’s creations.  “We need about five pounds of it, if that’s okay.”

                “Only five?”  Eddie asked.  He seemed disappointed by the amount.  “Why not ten?  Fifteen is enough to level most buildings, so why not get fifteen?”

                “Uh, no, five will be more than enough for what we need to use it for.”

                “Really?  Are you sure?” Eddie asked again with large, pleading eyes.

                “You heard the man, Eddie.”  The boss said.  “Five pounds, and only five.  Get it ready.”  Eddie nodded, closed the suitcase and started out of the room.  He muttered something about small booms as he left.  “Now then, gentlemen, let’s talk price.”

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Remember kids, explosions might be cool in movies and video games, but they're not so great in real life.  Well, except for the fireworks kind.  Those are cool.  But only when handled by people who know what they're doing. 

Oh, and I'll just leave this here, just for fun.

Word: Skulduggery

skulduggery

or skullduggery, sculduggery, scullduggery

[skuhl-duhg-uh-ree]

noun, plural skulduggeries.

1. dishonorable proceedings; mean dishonesty or trickery:

bribery, graft, and other such skulduggery.

2. an instance of dishonest or deceitful behavior; trick.

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                “Hold on there, young man, would you like to play a game with me?”  The old man asked.

                Todd stopped and looked at the elderly man.  He was a small, wrinkly thing sitting behind a table with a large pile of playing cards in front of him.  Todd wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere, and there couldn’t be any harm in humoring a senior citizen. 

                “What kind of game?”  Todd asked.

                “Oh just a little card game I made up a few years ago.  I’m sure it’s nothing a fine, intelligent fellow like yourself can’t handle.”

                “Okay, sure.  Why not.”

                Todd sat down across from the man and waited for the game to be explained.  Instead of telling him about the game though, the old man shuffled around and dug a heavily folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

                “Before we begin, why don’t we, oh what’s the term you young people use?  Ah yes, why don’t we make it interesting?”

                “What, you want place a bet old timer?”

                “Yes, exactly.”

                “Okay, sure.  I’m good for a few bucks.”

                “I’m not talking about money.  When you get to be my age, you either have too much to use or you no longer really care about how little you have.  So no, I don’t want money.  How about this:  the winner gets to take something from the loser.”

                “So, what, if I win I get something of yours?  Like, anything I want?”

                “That’s it.  Of course the same applies if I win.”

                “Gutsy old guy, aren’t you?  Alright, I’m in.”

                “Very good.  Now, I hate to be paranoid, but you can never be too careful these days.  Why not get everything spelled out in writing?”  The man’s wrinkled, thin finger pointed at the paper.

                “A contract?  Really?  Never heard of a contract being used for a little thing like this.”

                “Yes, well, it’s an old habit I have.  Used to be a lawyer, you know.  Contracts are everything in that business no matter how small the business might be.”

                “Okay, whatever.  Let’s do this.” 

                Todd didn’t even bother looking at the words scrawled on the paper.  He simply signed his name on a blank line at the bottom and waited for the man to explain the rules.

                It was a simple game, and one that probably would never become wide spread, no matter how hard the man tried.  It simply involved each player choosing a suit and trying to line up a full sequence of the suit before the other player did.  There were rules about the opponent being able to use a card to block a card, and how to get rid of unwanted cards and draw new ones and such, but none of it was very complicated or difficult to understand.  Todd wasn’t even sure it would be very fun once he heard how it was played, but he figured the least he could do was give it a chance. 

                Once the game started, Todd got off to an immediate advantage.  Since he could move much better than his older opponent, he felt like he would have an easy time beating the man.  Suddenly though, things started going wrong.

                When Todd got around half the needed cards, the old man seemed to get quite a few cards needed to keep Todd from winning, while Todd got many fewer cards he needed.  Likewise, no matter how hard Todd tried, he simply couldn’t block the old man’s progress fast enough.  Todd was at a loss for the sudden downturn until one thought entered his mind.  Somehow, the old man was cheating.

                He started observing the old man more closely, but couldn’t see how the cheat was happening.  There were no cards up his sleeves, no hidden devices, no nothing.  As the old man placed the winning card down on the table, Todd looked again at the pile of cards and remembered that the hadn’t actually been shuffled before the game started.  Todd kicked himself mentally for falling for the trick.

                “It looks like I’ve won, doesn’t it?”  The old man said.

                “You cheated.”  Todd said bitterly.

                “Oh?”

                “Yeah, you cheated.  I can tell.”

                “What cruel words you have, there young man.  They wound me, you know.”

                “Shut it you old fart, I know you cheated.”

                “Can you prove it?”  The old man said with a sly grin.

                “No.”  Todd admitted. 

                “Well then I didn’t cheat.  If it can’t be proven, it didn’t happen.”

                Todd wanted to argue, he really did.  But the old man was right.  There was no way he could prove that the old man had stacked the deck in his favor.  It was essentially foolproof. 

                “Now then, let’s see…what do I want from you?”  The old man asked, looking at Todd intently.  “Ah, yes, I think I know.”

                The old man’s hand extended and touched Todd’s head.  His eyes filled with a blinding white light.  When it faded, he was looking up at himself.  His eyes opened wide, and he quickly noticed that his vision was slightly burly and dull.  He raised his hands to his eyes.  The hands were not his own.  They were those of the old man.

                “Wh-what did you…”  He started to ask, but stopped when the voice he heard was that of the elder.

                “It’ simple, really.”  Said his body.  “The thing I wanted was your body, so I took it.  Quite, nice, really.  I can tell you really took care of it.  Don’t worry, I’ll continue taking care of it.  There wouldn’t be much point if I didn’t.  Well, maybe a few instances of laxity in that regard.  What’s the point of being young if you don’t enjoy it, right?”

                “You…how did you?”

                “Oh, just a little something I can do.  It was the contract, you know.  It was all written there.  I take whatever I want from you, without limits.  And, for the purposes here, the body is a thing.”

                “You…you tricked me?”

                “Oh, tricked is such a strong word.  I simply told you the truth and you made assumptions that’s all.  Enjoy my body, by the way.  Oh, don’t worry, I’ve saved up quite a bit of money and have a nice place for you to enjoy.  It’s all written down in my, or rather your, wallet.”

                “You won’t get away with this.”  Todd said, trying to sound intimidating.  It didn’t quite work out as well as he had hoped.

                “I’m sure you think that, and I wish you all the luck in the world.  But I very much doubt you’ll find out how to switch us back.”  The man turned to walk away, but stopped.  “Oh, one bit of advice for you, old man.”  He said, emphasizing the last two words, “When you sign a contract, make sure you read it.  And pay special attention to the fine print.”

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That last line reminds of of a song about getting screwed over.  I'm just glad being forcibly switched with another person isn't actually a thing.  That would suck.  

Word: Catawampus

catawampus

[kat-uh-wom-puh s] Chiefly Midland and Southern U.S.

adjective

1. askew; awry.

2. positioned diagonally; cater-cornered.

adverb

3. diagonally; obliquely:

We took a shortcut and walked catawampus across the field.

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               Something was wrong.  She could tell that much right away.  The moment she entered her apartment it was clear that something was off.  It didn’t even take her long to figure out what it was. Everything in her apartment had been moved.  Not taken, just moved. 

                The difference wasn’t much.  Most people wouldn’t even have noticed the shift, and even if they did, they most likely wouldn’t have cared.  But not her.  She knew it had happened, and she couldn’t stand it.  It made the entire place seem messy and unorganized.

                When she had left for work that morning, every piece of furniture and every appliance she owned was either parallel or perpendicular to at least one wall.  But now everything had been shifted onto a slight diagonal slant.  She felt her eye twitch when she looked around.  It was now wrong.  All wrong.  Distressingly so.

                She immediately went to the phone to call her landlord.  First she needed to know how such a travesty had occurred so she could prevent it from happening again.  The landlord had no explanation.  The only keys were hers and his, and he had no reason to go making such small adjustments.  Nor had anyone asked him for the spare key.  Plus, the fact that nothing was actually missing meant it wasn’t a criminal or some such.  It was some prank.  A joke by someone who knew her well enough to know how to upset her.  That was hardly a comfort.  It didn’t tell her how someone had gained access to her apartment, nor how to prevent it from happening again.

                She considered getting a new lock or some kind of chain on her door, but those would be expensive and probably go against her lease in some way, so she would have to go without anything like that.  She needed something simpler and cheaper.  After a few moments of thought, she decided to simply set up some kind of door jamb when she left for work every morning.  Since it was most likely someone making fun of her, that would most likely be enough to keep him or her out. 

                With that done, she turned to the askew furnishings.  Since the diagonal shift was small, she felt confident she could move it all back into its proper place by herself, it was just a matter of time and effort.  The real difficult part would be getting everything back into its exact place, like it was before.  That would take a bit more effort.  After all, if even one piece of furniture was even a tiny bit off, it would be almost as bad as it was now.  It might even be worse, since everything else would be correct except that one piece. 

                She sighed and started making preparations.  She sat on the couch, collecting her thoughts in preparation for her task.  Before she could stand back up though, she looked around the apartment.  As she did, something odd happened.  She found that she liked the new set up.   

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 I'd probably be one of those people who wouldn't even notice a change like this.  As long as it was small enough it wouldn't matter all that much to me.  I'm sure there's quite a few people who it would be maddening for though.