Word: Corrigible

  

corrigible

[ kawr-i-juh-buh l, kor- ]

adjective

1. capable of being corrected or reformed: a corrigible criminal.

2. submissive to correction.

3. subject to being revised, improved, or made more accurate: a corrigible theory.

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            The man was unconscious.  Even the untrained eyes of those around him could tell that much.  He lay, eyes closed, barely breathing, unmoving.  A trickle of blood oozed down his forehead and around his eyes.

               “So, what should we do with him?” One of the observers asked.

               “What do you mean, what?  He’s a murderer.  We cut his head off and leave his body to rot.” Another said.

               “He’s got a bounty on him.” Said the third.  That made the other two pay very close attention.  “Pretty big one, too.  We tie him up, bring him in and get paid.”

               “We can still kill him.” Said the second man.  “That bounty’s dead or alive, right?”

               The third man shrugged his thick shoulders.

               “What would the authorities do when we bring him in?” Asked the first man.

               “Probably hang him.” Said the third.  “That’s why we should bring him in.  He’s going to die anyway; we might as well get something out of it.”

               The trio looked at the unconscious criminal. 

               “I think we should take him with us.” Said the first.

               “What?  No, that’s a terrible idea.” The second said forcefully. 

               “No, it’s not.  We can try and rehabilitate him.  Reform him.  You know, make him good.”

               The other two were silent.  The second man let out a low grumble and crossed his wiry arms.

               “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.  You think he’s going to just sit there and listen to you talk about virtue and honesty and all that?  You think a career criminal will actually pay attention enough to see the error of his ways or some such?”

               “He might.  You never know until you try.”

               “Won’t work.” The third man said.  “That’s what prisons are for.  Doesn’t work well there.  And we don’t have what it takes to do that stuff anyway.”

               “There, you see?  A voice of reason.” The second man huffed.

               “I want to at least try before we condemn him to death.”

               “Why?”

               “Because if we can change someone like this, then imagine what else we can do?  We can strive to eliminate crime, not by killing those who commit them, but by making them not want to commit more crimes.”

               “Wouldn’t work.” The third man said.  “You might get a few, but not all.  And they’d still have to commit a crime to start.  Wouldn’t end crime, just slow it down a little.”

               “Exactly.” Said the second man.

               The first man sighed.  He wondered if he could get through to them.  Make them see how well his idea would work.  He just needed them to give it a try.

               “How about this.” He said.  “We take him with us, and give it, say, a month.  Now, even I know he won’t be cured that quickly, but if there’s any improvement then we see it through to the end.”

               “No.” Both of the other men said at once. 

               “But…”

               “No buts.” The second man said.  “We’re not letting a murder into our house, no matter what the reason is.  I’m not risking our necks on the off chance he’s willing to change.  Come on, let’s tie him up and bring him in.  That bounty is calling.”

               As the second and third men got to work, the first was deep in thought.  He knew he was right.  He knew he could make people change.  He just needed to get the others in on it first.  And then they would see just what a little change could lead to. 

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That's not sinister at all.  Yup, I'm sure that whatever happens will turn out wonderfully for all involved.  No chance of anyone going full supervillain in order to show the world.  Nope, no chance at all...

Word: Farthing

farthing

[ fahr-th ing ]

noun

1. a former bronze coin of Great Britain, equal to one-fourth of a British penny: withdrawn in 1961.

2. something of very small value: I don't care a farthing for your opinion.

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

               Becky hurried out of the classroom.  It was Friday, and she had just had her last class.  That meant two blissful days of freedom.  Two days where she could just relax and do whatever she wanted.  And she had plans.

               “Hey, Becky, wait up!”

               She stopped, groaned and turned with slumped shoulders.  The guy who had called out to her was not part of her plans.  He was running up to her, pushing his was passed other students who were eager to leave to class.

               “What do you want Darren?” She asked heavily.

               “Yeah, so, I was wondering if you had any plans for the weekend.” He asked once he got closer.

               “Yes.” Becky replied without a moment’s hesitation.

               “Really.  Am I part of those plans?”

               “No.”

               “Can I be?”

               “No.  No you cannot.”

               Becky crossed her arms and gave her best “go away” glair.  Darren was not picking up on her non-verbal clues.

               “Oh, come on.  I bet we can have a lot of fun together.”

               “Yeah, right.  I know what kind of fun you want.  And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really interested.”

               “You say that now, but one day with me and you’ll be singing a different song.”

               “That implies I want to spend a day with you.”

               Darren flashed what he must have thought was a charming smile.  Becky found it repulsive.  Sure, he might not have been a bad looking guy, but he was dumb as a stump and did not seem to understand refusal.  That was a much bigger turn-off than any physical traits he possessed.

               “Sooo…”

               “Darren, since you don’t seem to get what I’m saying, I’ll put it bluntly.  I’m not going to date you.  Ever.  I don’t care about you.  I don’t want to care about you.  The only reason I’m even remotely aware of your existence is that we happen to sit next to each other in the one class we share, thanks to some cosmic fluke.  You mean less to me than an ant.  If you disappeared tomorrow, I might not even notice your absence, save for the relief of not having to deal with you anymore.  I have no interest in you.  None, zilch, zero, nada, nothing.  Right now, in my mind, you rank only slightly higher than a random bystander, and that’s only because I happen to know your name thanks to circumstances and proximity.  If it wasn’t for that, you’d be a faceless mob to me.  And I really wish I didn’t know your name.”

               When the girl finished her little rant, Darren simply stood and thought about what she had said.

               “So…” She said slowly.  “What you’re saying is that you won’t date me yet, right?”

               “No, I’m saying I won’t date you ever.  Period.  End of story.  You have no chance with me.  So get lost and go look for someone who might be willing to give you the time of day.”

               Darren thought some more, and a big smile came to his face.  “Hey, Becky, what time is it?”

               She sighed.  “Goodbye, Darren.  Don’t follow me.  Only talk to me if it’s an absolute emergency related to class.”

               She turned, walked away, and did everything she could to ignore his continued pleas.  She had other, more important, things to think about for the coming weekend.

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

I can honestly say I've never done something like this.  Of course I've never really tried hitting on any girl.  Like, ever.  That's probably one of the many, many reasons I'm a perpetual bachelor, I suppose. 

Word: Jo

jo

[ joh ]

noun
Scot.
beloved one; darling; sweetheart.

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            Chris felt his heart beating like a drum.  He was not sure how he managed to keep from ruining his clothes with sweat, but he did.  He fought to keep his hands above the table instead of fumbling in his pocket.  That would have given it away.

               He was so nervous that he almost missed what Kylie was saying.  Fortunately, almost was not the same as completely.  He was able to hold the conversation well enough that she did not notice his nerves.  And it did not help that she looked gorgeous tonight.  Oh, sure, most people would not call her beautiful.  Most would just consider her kind of pretty.  But Chris thought she was the loveliest woman in the world, and nobody could convince him otherwise.

               And tonight, she looked especially radiant, which made focusing on his task that much harder.  The food could not come soon enough.  That would give him something to focus on.  Maybe it would help calm him down enough to go through with it. 

               Chris looked around the quiet, moderately upscale restaurant for their waiter.  Kylie noticed and began asking what was wrong.  Chris just hand waved it all away, telling her he was wanting more water.  It was enough, but she still eyed him warily.

               The food came far later than Chris would have liked.  He dug in, using the taste of his steak and mashed potatoes to try to work up the courage he needed.  He thought he had it all under control.  He had planned it all out.  He had worked up the courage needed to do what he knew had to be done.  But now that the moment was upon him, he found all the courage had fled.  Gone, as if it had never been. 

               The meal did much less than he would have hoped.  Oh, it was a very nice meal, sure.  The food was perfectly cooked and delicious.  But that did not settle the butterflies dancing in his stomach. He needed to do something, and food was apparently not going to help.  But it was not yet time.  He had to wait. 

               It was time for dessert.  If anything, it was even harder to get through.  Somehow, watching her happily eat a slice of chocolate cake made him even more nervous.  It meant it was time.  He was going to have to do it.  Once they were both done eating and before the bill came was his window of opportunity.  One he had to take.

               He took a deep breath and stood.  He could hear his heart beating, it was so loud.  He hoped that nobody else could hear it.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box he had resisted touching for the entire night.  Kylie’s eyes widened when she saw it.  Breathing was difficult now.  But there was no going back.  He got down on one knee and saw tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes.  Was that a good sign?  Were they happy tears?  They probably were.

               Chris, drew on what little bravery he had left and asked the question. 

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Happy Singles Awareness Day everyone!  

What?  You mean it's not Singles Awareness Day?  Valentine's Day?  Oh, right, there's that too.  Happy Valentine's Day, I guess.