Word: Unctuous

unctuous

[ uhngk-choo-uh s ]

adjective

characterized by excessive piousness or moralistic fervor, especially in an affected manner; excessively smooth, suave, or smug.

of the nature of or characteristic of an unguent or ointment; oily; greasy.

having an oily or soapy feel, as certain minerals.

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              Ben did not like his mom’s new boyfriend. At first, he was not sure why. There was just something about the guy that rubbed him the wrong way. Could it be the way he always seemed to be smiling? Or the lame pick-up lines he threw her way? Or maybe the hollow and cheap compliments? The way he thought he was smooth, and suave?

               No, those were all bad, but they were not what really got under Ben’s skin. He had seen so many guys like that at school that they really did not bother him too much. Then it came to him. It was the guy’s hair.

               The guy wore his hair slicked back and meticulously styled. As a guy who also paid close attention to hair, Ben could tell that they guy probably spent at least an hour making sure every strand of hair was in the exact right spot. He probably thought it made him look like James Bond or something. Ben could definitely say that the style did not look like anything any charming spy should wear.

               Plus, it was just so greasy. The guy put enough oil in his hair that Ben swore if he wrung it out, they’d be able to fry a Thanksgiving turkey in what they collected. It was even a little hard to where the hair ended, and the oil began. How anyone could put that much effort into something so horrible defied explanation.

               And it all distilled into the essence of what this man his mother chose to date was like. On the surface, he put in a lot of effort. He acted charming, and enjoyed the company of his mother. But once one really looked at it, they could tell it was just a layer of oil making everything look nice and shiny. Ben could tell he did not really care for his mother.

               He complimented her, but it sounded like words from a dating advice website. The dates the two of them went on sounded like something from “how to score” book. Even the way he interacted with Ben sounded like they came from someone else.

               When Ben saw the two of them looking at each other, he saw very different things. In his mother, Ben saw a woman who wanted to love. Needed to love. And this man was a fine outlet for that need. In her boyfriend, Ben saw a man looking for his next meal. A hunter preying on a lonely widow and her son. He did not care about them beyond what he could get out of them.

               Everything about him, from his manners, to the way he dressed, to his hair, was the same. Charming, engaging, and covered with enough oil and grease to set the ocean on fire. And what was worse was that his mom was falling for the trick. She was being blinded by the slick, shiny disguise he put on. She was falling for the hairdo.

               And Ben knew he needed to end it. 

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Yeah, I got nothing today. Sorry.

Word: Jawbone

jawbone

[ jaw-bohn ]

noun

1. a bone of either jaw; a maxilla or mandible.

2. the bone of the lower jaw; mandible.

verb (used with or without object), jaw·boned, jaw·bon·ing.

3. Informal. to attempt to influence or pressure by persuasion rather than by the exertion of force or one's authority, as in urging voluntary compliance with economic guidelines: The president jawboned the steel industry into postponing price increases.

adjective

4. Informal. obtained by or resorting to such a practice: jawbone controls.

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               Dr. Franklin examined the odd stone structure critically. It looked like nothing he had ever seen before. It was large, standing around six feet, and was oddly regular. Jagged on one side, smooth on the other, and tapering up into a point with a slight curve towards the top.  What was perhaps the strangest thing about it though, was that it was not alone.

               It stood along with hundreds of others in a parabolic line that spanned over twenty feet at the widest. Some of them were taller, with two that were almost ten feet tall. A few towards the front were shorter, but not by much.

               The geological team Dr. Franklin lead had been examining them for two days and had come up with almost nothing. All they could tell was the rough composition of the stones.  They were made up of a mix of minerals and were densely packed. What they were was a mystery that was driving the man up a wall.

               “Uh, doctor?” A timid voice from behind disrupted Dr. Franklin’s concentration. He turned quickly to find one of the younger members of the team. A grad student that had yet to really find his footing in the geological community, despite his skills.

               “Yes? What is it?”

               “I just. I…” The young man wrung his hands nervously.

               “Well? Out with it already. I’ve got work to do.”

               “Yes, Doctor, it’s just that I have an idea. About what these are.”

               Other scientists had ideas as well. Most of them were that this was a hoax of some kind. What the goal was remained a mystery.

               “What is it?”

               “Well, it’s just that…looking at the structure of the stones, it…it remined me of something. I, I don’t think these are stones. At least, not really. I think they’re fossils.”

               “Fossils?” Dr. Franklin said with a raised eyebrow.

               “Yes, sir. I mean, look at them. Step back a bit and look. Don’t they look like teeth? A-and the way they’re arranged? It looks like the lower jaw of, of something.”

               Dr. Franklin looked around and saw what the young man was talking about. Once he began to think about it, he could indeed see that they did look like the teeth of some truly massive predator. But that simply could not be.

               “Impossible. Something this large would never be able to sustain itself.” Dr. Franklin said. Even though animal biology was not his field of expertise, he knew enough to know that. “It would collapse under its own weight. And even if it could support itself, it would never be able to find enough food.”

“Yes, but, what else could they be?”

“Most people here think it’s a hoax.”

“Well, if it is, it’s the best hoax I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen the chemical composition and looked up what fossils are usually made of. It’s a match. A perfect match to what we’re seeing here. Right now, it’s either the most elaborate hoax in history, or it’s the jawbone of something larger than anything we’ve ever thought possible.”

Neither thought was comforting. And he was not sure which idea was worse.

“Doctor? What do we do?”

“I…I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

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Yeah, this is definitely a dragon's jaw. I mean, I haven't written it, but that's totally what it is. I mean, come on, what else could it be? 

Word: Melee

melee

or mê·lée

[ mey-ley, mey-ley, mel-ey ]

noun

1) a confused hand-to-hand fight or struggle among several people.

2) confusion; turmoil; jumble: the melee of Christmas shopping.

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             Franz swung his mace at his opponent’s midsection. For most opponents, that would be enough to send them sprawling. Franz was large, strong, and faster than he looked. He had spent twenty years of his life perfecting his craft. He had fought more people than he could count. He had worked until his hands bled, and his body could not support itself anymore.

               His opponent, on the other hand, had none of those things. It was a boy who could not have been more than 16. The kid had come out of nowhere, holding a sword that looked like it belonged on some noble’s mantle than on a battlefield. He was also clearly a novice. Oh he put on a good show, but Franz could tell from the way he held his sword he was still a novice. How he made it to the tournament finals was anyone’s guess.

               It should have been an easy win. It probably would not even take his full power to send the skinny boy flying. When the kid dodged the blow, Franz chalked it up to beginner’s luck. The next one, a coincidence. But every single attack after that? The was something going on.

               Somehow Franz had yet to hit the kid even once. And the kid looked almost bored. He had not even swung his sword once. It was maddening. And his cheering squad was no help either. How this kid got so many beautiful girls to follow him around like that, Franz could only guess. And the way they jumped and cheered for him was plain annoying.

               But he could not let himself be distracted by the girls. Franz would not be satisfied until he slammed his mace into the kid’s head. Show him what his hard work had produced. That his training and experience were not all wasted.

               Franz pulled back a moment with his mace at the ready. The direct approach was not working for some reason. It was time to use something different. He slowly began circling his opponent, probing the boy’s loose stance critically. The boy simply stood there. His knees were locked, and his feet rested far too close together. A stiff breeze should have knocked him over. And yet…

               Franz broke into a run. Not directly at the tricky kid, but around him. Circling the boy. Never giving him any indication of when or where the next strike would be coming from. He dashed in, swinging with a light, quick jab from the kid’s blind spot. It hit nothing but air. It also put Franz off balance.

               He stumbled forward, struggling to regain his footing. Once he did, he turned to face to boy again. The boy sighed and spoke. He actually spoke during a fight.

               “Okay, I think that’s about enough. I thought this would be good training, but I guess I was wrong.”

The boy raised his sword in a stance that did not look even slightly practical. He stood too low, his sword was twisted up behind him, and his shoulder was in front of his face in a way that did not seem comfortable. The boy rushed in faster that Franz could keep track of. Then there was a flash of steel and he felt the sword open a long, smooth gash in his chest.

               Franz was no stranger to pain or deep wounds, but this was different. Normally, a blow like this would barely slow him down. But for some reason, Franz could not move. He could only stare in shock as the kid sheathed his sword, confident that the fight was already over. Indeed, Franz felt unsteady. He began tilting forward. And then the ground reached up to greet him.

               He heard the crowd roaring its approval. And Franz clenched his fists in rage. He had no idea how he had been beaten by an amateur so easily, but this defeat would not last. He would find a way to defeat this kid, even if it took the rest of his life to do.

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 This is a big thing now in some circles of fiction. The protagonist who is somehow an overpowered expert in everything despite being a teenager. It's kind of weird, but there it is.