Word: Fenestrated

fenestrated

or fenestrate

[fen-uh-strey-tid, fi-nes-trey- or fi-nes-treyt, fen-uh-streyt]

adjective, Architecture.

1. having windows; windowed; characterized by windows.

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

The house seemed nice.  Eggshell walls, clean hardwood floors, and all the amenities of modern life.  Sunlight streamed through the windows, giving the various rooms a warm, bright feel.

    “And here we have the living room.” The real estate agent said as she guided the young couple through the pleasant house.  “Note the beautiful windows.  They’re perfectly positioned to let in just the right amount of natural light.  Plus, they have an excellent view of the yard.”

    “Uh huh.” Ted, one of the potential customers, said.  He did not look so enthused.  His fiance, Heather, looked much more interested.

    The agent continued on, “And they’re very well made.  Top of the line.  Well insulated, so you don’t have to worry about getting too hot or too cold.  And they’re also very sturdy.  It’ll take more than a thrown ball to get through these.” She said with a knowing grin.

    “Oh that sounds wonderful.” Heather said.  She was already picturing a future child throwing things against it and not breaking the glass.

    “Plus, they’re long lasting.  In fact, all the windows in this house are.  Guaranteed to last a lifetime and more.”

    “Great, great.” Ted said.  “Now what about the rest of the house?”

    “Excuse me?”
    “You’ve talked a lot about the windows so far.  In fact, that’s pretty much all you’ve talked about.  What about other parts of the house?”

    Heather leaned in close and spoke quietly.  “Don’t be rude Ted.  She’s just doing her job.”

    “I’m not being rude.  It’s a reasonable question.”

    “Uh, well, if you look around, this living area is quite spacious.  You’ll be able to do quite a bit in here.” The agent said.  Her eyes darted around the room and her smile was a bit too wide for Ted’s taste.  “Now then, why...why don’t we move on to the next room?”

    “Where we’ll no doubt see a lot of excellent windows.” Ted said.

    “Well, yes, we will.” The agent said quickly.  “Top quality windows.  Really, the best.”

    The agent continued to expound on the quality of the house’s many windows.  Ted grumbled while Heather took in every word the agent said.  Finally, Ted could take no more.  He stopped dead in the middle of a hallway.

    “You know what?  This is getting ridiculous.”

    “Uh, Ted…”Heather started to say.  Ted held up his hand to stop her before continuing.

    “No, Heather, it is.  She’s talked about nothing but windows this entire tour.  Listen, this looks like a lovely house, but if you can’t tell us about anything other than some pieces of glass in the walls, we’re leaving and looking for a different agent.”

    “Ted!”

    The agent recoiled against the threat.  “W-well...I...uh...this...this hallway is...very well positioned for foot traffic and…” Her forehead developed a fine sheen of sweat as she floundered to find something to say.  Ted continued to glaire.  His gaze finally broke the agent.  “Okay, fine, you want an honest tour?  You want me to tell you about something other than the windows?  I will.  This house is junk.  Complete and utter junk that’s beyond repair.  The windows are the best part of it, I wasn’t lying.  They really are top of the line.  Nothing else is though.  The pipes are rusted to the point of bursting.   Everything creaks and rattles while the wind is blowing.  The wiring could fail at any moment. The walls are so thin and rotten that the paint is sturdier.  Seriously, I can punch through the walls right now without much trouble.  I’m actually a bit surprised it hasn’t collapsed from us walking in it.”

    The agent paused a bit and took a deep breath.  “Wow.  That...that actually felt good.  You have no idea how hard it is to try and sell a junker like this.”  She smiled a much more genuine smile than any before.  “Thanks for making me say that.”

    “I...you’re welcome?” Ted said, confused.  

    “Let’s get out of here.  I know a few houses that are a lot better than this one.  They aren’t as pretty but the quality is a lot better.” The agent said.  “And yes, I am telling the truth right now.”

    The young couple looked at each other and followed the agent out of the skin deep house.  It really was amazing what a little brutal honesty could do for a person.  

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

I've said it before and I'll probably say it again: English is weird. I mean, look at fenestrated and defenestrated. If fenestrated means having windows, shouldn't defenestrated mean something like not having windows? Instead it means throwing someone out a window. Doesn't make much snese does it? I still think defenestrated is an awesome word though, just because of that definition.

Word: Maladroit

     

maladroit

[mal-uh-droit]

adjective

1. lacking in adroitness; unskillful; awkward; bungling; tactless:

to handle a diplomatic crisis in a very maladroit way.

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

Recruit Killman’s hands shook as he took aim.  The readout of his targeting array blinked chaotically

 as it tried in vain to correct for the shaking.  His breath came in short, fast bursts as he pulled the 

trigger.  The shot went wide, missing the stationary training target by several feet.  He sighed and 

lowered the rifle.

    “Recruit!  Who told you to lower your weapon?”

    The loud, rough voice sent shivers down Killman’s spine.  He felt like his spine would jettison itself 

when he stood straight.

    “Nobody, sir!” Killman shouted.

    “Then why did you stop?” The Drill Sergeant asked.  The large man stood far too close for comfort.

    “I...was catching my breath, sir.”

    “Catching your breath?  This is target practice, not a marathon.  Or are you telling me you’d rather 

be running laps?”

    “N-no, sir!”

    “Oh no?  Because if you aren’t shooting, you’re running.  Is that clear, recruit?”

    “Sir, yes, sir!”

    “Good.  Get back to it.”

    Killman raised his training weapon and took aim.  Or at least, he tried to.  Once again, his nerves 

took over and his shoot went even farther off target than his previous attempt.

    “My god, that was the saddest, weakest attempt at shooting I have ever seen.”  The Drill Sergeant 

said.  “How can you miss a stationary target so badly?”

    “I...I…”
    “Well, speak up recruit.”

    “I can’t shoot, sir.”

    “That’s obvious.  Have you hit the target once?”

    “No, sir.” Killman said weakly.

    “What was that?”

    “No, sir!”

    The Drill Sergeant tapped on his wrist consoul.  He brought up Killman’s training records and read 

over them.

    “You have got to be the single worst recruit I have ever seen.” He said.  “No weapon skills, no 

vehicle skills, not even basic physical ability.  Son, why the hell did you join the army when you’re so 

pathetic?”

    “I...I…”

    “Stop stuttering.  You’re not a machine.  Although I wish you were.  Maybe there’d be some use to 

you then.”

    “Yes, sir.  My worth is less than an auto turret, sir.”

    “Well, at least you have a functioning brain.  Now spit it out, why are you here recruit?”

    “I...didn’t want to be, sir.” Killman said.  His voice became quieter, so the other recruits would have a

hard time hearing.  Although, with their sensory boost gear they probably could anyway.  He would 

probably be the focus of every prank and insult for the next week, if not longer.

    “Is that so?  Well too damn bad!  You’re here, and you’re going to damn well act like it, you hear me?”

    “Sir, yes, sir!”

    “Good.  Now, get back to it, recruit.  And I want to see some actual hits before you leave, understood?”

    “Y-yes, sir.”

    The Drill Sergeant leaned in close, whispering in Killman’s ear.  “We’ll continue this conversation in 

my office after training tonight.  Don’t be late.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “And for god sake, remember to breath when you pull the trigger.  If you can’t figure that out here, 

then you don’t stand a chance on the battlefield.”

    The Drill Sergeant backed off and headed towards the next recruit, already shouting at the man.  

Killman struggled to calm his nerves took a deep breath and slowly pulled the trigger.  His shot hit the 

target of a different recruit. 

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

Okay, yeah, there was no real reason for this to be sci-fi, I admit. But I wanted it to be, so it was. Got 

a problem with that?

Word: Enfant Terrible

enfant terrible

[ahn-fahn te-ree-bluh]

noun, plural enfants terribles

[ahn-fahn te-ree-bluh] (Show IPA). French.

1. an incorrigible child, as one whose behavior is embarrassing.

2. an outrageously outspoken or bold person who says and does indiscreet or irresponsible things.

3. a person whose work, thought, or lifestyle is so unconventional or avant-garde as to appear revolutionary or shocking.

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

Maggie was in the supermarket.  Had she been there
before?  Well, it was not important.  She was there, 

and that was that.  Besides, she was more interested
in the small child standing in front of her.  It was an 

angelic little one, although the gender was impossible
to tell at such a young age, it did not matter.  

Maggie knew this child.  It was hers.  Her child, and
she felt a swell of pride in seeing it.

“Mommy, come on!” The child called to her.  

The child rushed away, leaving Maggie to dash to
keep up.   She found her child looking at a 

suspiciously empty aisle.  Why was it empty?
 Why wasn’t anyone attending to the issue?
 Such things were minor concerns.  Maggie
looked up at the sign above them.  Apparently,
when stocked, the entire aisle was dedicated to
candy.

“Mommy, where’s all the candy?” Her child asked.
 Maggie opened her mouth to answer, but found

 herself unable to do so.  “Mommy, why can’t I get
candy?  I want candy.”

The child continued to talk about how much it
wanted candy.  When Maggie failed to produce
the desired treats, its voice became louder.  The
child began to cry and scream and thrash around.
 Its  voice filled the store, becoming almost
deafeningly loud.

Maggie tried to comfort her child, but could only
watch in horror as it thrashed more violently and 

screamed louder.  The child seemed to tear the
very floor apart with its tantrum.  And that was 

when Maggie felt the stares.

The stares of the other shoppers.  They stood
around, unmoving, unspeaking.  There was no 

need for them to say a word.  Maggie knew what
they were thinking.  They were watching her. 

Judging her.  Criticizing her with their eyes.  They
all thought she was a bad mother.  Her inability to
quiet her child’s tantrum made her unfit for the
mantle of motherhood.  Even though the lack of
candy was not her fault, it did not matter to them.
 She was a bad mother, and that was that.

Maggie rushed into action.  She did everything she
could think of to calm her child down.  She spoke
soothing words.  She made promises.  She even
tried being stern and commanding.  Nothing
worked.  Nothing she said quieted her child.  In
fact, it screamed even louder and thrashed around
even more.  And the stares continued.  

She heard the whispers start.  Even over the
screams of her child, she could hear them.

“Terrible mother.”

“Can’t even handle one little tantrum.”

“She should never have had a child.”

“I feel embarrassed for her.”

They fell over her like a heavy cloak, wrapping her
up in the scathing reviews of her mothering skills.
 And she had no choice but to tolerate them, even
as she tried to resolve her child’s wild thrashing.
 It was no use.  The cloak of words became
heavier and heavier, making her bend with the
weight of disappointment.  It quickly became so
heavy that she crashed through the floor of the
supermarket, leaving all behind but the voices.

Maggie woke up, breathing deep and quick.  She
felt her forehead, feeling a light coating of 

cold sweat. She looked around the dark bedroom,
seeing the familiar silhouettes of the various items
around her.  She looked down at her large,
protruding stomach.

“You had better be a damn good kid.”   

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

So, do any first time pregnant women out there have nightmares of this general nature? I'd

imagine someone must. I mean, having a child is a big thing, and must be really nerve wracking.

Plus, with all the hormones rushing around, it must be some serious nightmare fuel.

Word: Jannock

jannock

[jan-uh k]

adjective, British, Australian Informal.

1. honest; fair; straightforward.

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

The man was tall and thin.  He wore a neatly pressed three-piece suit and sported a neatly trimmed 

mustache and goatee.  The only thing he was missing was a monocle and a top hat.  He stood directly 

in front of Troy and Josh like he was expecting them.

    “Hello boys.” He said.  “Fine night, isn’t it?”

    The two young men looked at each other, and then to the odd man.  

    “Uh, I guess?” Troy said.  Both of them took a few slow steps back.

    “Now, now, don’t be alarmed.  I have no ill intentions towards either of you.  No, what I want is a 

simple business transaction.”

    “What?” Josh asked.

    “I want to make a deal.”

    “What kind of deal?”

    “The simplest kind there is.  I do something, and then you do something.  Simple as that.  In more 

complicated terms, I perform a service for you two.  Anything you want, just name it and it can be done.

Then, at a time of my choosing, you perform an action in service of me.  Simple, isn’t it?”

    “I guess.” Troy said slowly.  “What kind of things can you give us?” He was very ready to refuse at 

any time, but curiosity got the better of him.

    “Anything.  Anything at all.  The sky’s the limit, really.  Whatever you can imagine, I can provide.  

You want endless wealth?  It will be done.  The love of you life?  Easy.  Power over the world?  Done.  

Anything and everything can be granted.”

    Josh and Troy looked at each other with a very different look in their eyes.  

    “Yeah, thanks for the offer, but we’ll be going now.” Troy said.

    “Ah, I see.  Of course you don’t believe me.  I don’t blame you, really.  Of course such grandiose 

claims would need evidence to back them up.  How about a freebee?  One simple request, free of 

charge.  Of course, nothing big, mind you.  Just a little sample.”

    “Okay, how about a new computer?  Top of the line.” Troy said.

    “Hm.  Pushing the limits of small, but I suppose that’s acceptable, if only just.”

    The man put his hands together.  Black and red light surrounded them, giving off an eerie glow to the

man.  The light pulsed like the beating of a heart and left his hands, hovering in the air.  The light 

swirled and shifted, forming the rough outline of a laptop.  It shrank to the appropriate size and 

dimensions.  Then it stopped.  The light vanished, leaving a high end laptop in its wake.  The computer 

slowly descended in front of Troy, hovering there until he gingerly held out his hands, at which point 

gravity took hold of the device.  The two young men looked dumbfounded at the newly created 

computer.

    “There we go, one top of the line computer, as requested.  Now, do I have your attention?”

    “Oh yeah, definitely.” Josh said.  His mind was already racing with what he wanted.

    “What...how...did...how did you?  What are you?” Troy stammered before asking the complete 

question.

    “Well, technically speaking I’m an angel.” The well dressed man said while stroking his beard.

    “An angel, huh?  That wouldn’t happen to be of the fallen variety, would it?”

    “Depends on who you ask.  Some would call me fallen, yes.  As for myself, I prefer differently 

oriented.”

    “So you are a demon then.”

    “Oh goodness no.  No I am most certainly not a demon.  Reprehensible creatures, demons.  The 

worst, really.  Don’t go associating with that lot if you want to keep your skin intact.”

“Why should we trust you?  WHy trust a fallen angel?  I mean, aren’t you guys always tricking 

us humans with bad deals?”

The man looked shocked and held his hand over his heart.  “You wound me, sir.  Such 

accusations.  I will have you know I am an honest, forthright businessman.  I will never attempt 

to trick you, nor will I bog you down with, ugh, fine print.  The terms of my deal are always 

straightforward and simple to understand.  I provide a service, you do me a favor.  Plain and 

simple.  And no, I don’t know what the favor will be.  I can tell you that it will not involve the 

separation of either of you from your souls.  I have no interest in those.  Others do though.  

They’re the ones who delight in tricking people.  Not me though.  No, it will be some sort of 

service that I require.”

Troy thought about it.  It was hard to know if the fallen angel was actually telling the truth or not.

He looked to his friend.  Josh seemed to have made up his mind already.

“Okay, fine.  But with some extra terms.”

“Of course, of course.”

“You can’t ask for anything criminal.  Like, no stealing or murdering or anything.”

The man thought about that.  “Yes, I find those limits agreeable.  Very well, one request each, for one...

legal favor from each of you.  Deal?”

Josh let out a heavy sigh.  

“Okay, deal.”     

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

I'm sure NOTHING will go wrong. Yup, everything will be TOTALLY fine, with everything working

out perfectly for these two. No way this will EVER come back to bit them. Nope.