Word: Perfunctory

perfunctory

[per-fuhngk-tuh-ree]

---

adjective

performed merely as a routine duty; hasty and superficial: perfunctory courtesy.

 

lacking interest, care, or enthusiasm; indifferent or apathetic: In his lectures he reveals himself to be merely a perfunctory speaker.

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               The man wakes up the sound of his alarm.  He groans and shuts it off.  Sometimes he wishes he could do more.  Take a bat to bed with him so he could smash the damn thing, but he never does.  He has had the clock for too long, and he would never be able to wake up without it.  He forces himself out of bed, just as he does every morning, and readies himself for the day.

               A quick breakfast of oatmeal with a dash of honey, and a cup of coffee.  He does not enjoy either.  The oatmeal is of the cheap, instant variety and is tasteless and lumpy.  The honey makes it barely tolerable.  He eats it because that is what the health experts say he should eat, and his slowly expanding waistline makes him more open to such suggestions.  The coffee is dark and bitter.  He does not like the taste of it, but he drinks it simply because it helps him get moving.  If he was allowed to use sugar, he would put a large amount of it in, but again, the health experts.  And since he finds the idea of milk oddly unsettling, he uses neither that nor cream to cut the bitterness.  They have become as much a part of his routine as waking up, no matter how much he dislikes any of it.

               He begins his drive to work.  It is familiar.  So much so that he could close his eyes and still make it.  Sometimes, he is tempted to do that, just to see what happens.  He never does though.  Besides, other cars on the road made it so he had to pay at least some attention to his actions.  He stops at the light that always seems to be red when he gets to it.

               He uses the time to look at the shop.  The shop on the corner.  The shop with the faded sign and barred windows.  He feels his grip on the steering wheel tighten.  He wants to go in.  To see what that store has, and maybe even buy something.  But he never does.  That would not be part of his daily routine.  And he had learned to stick to that like a priest to his holy book.  It might have been maddening, but it was safe and familiar.  He knew what was expected of him, and he never did anything else, even if he wanted to.  Besides, what would people who knew him think if they saw him entering a store like that?  Nothing good.

               He gets to work and sits at his desk.  He turns on his computer and starts.  Everything is set up for him.  All he has to do is open the programs and start typing the right things.  It is not interesting, and it can be frustrating at times, but he does not mind.  Mostly, anyway.  He lets his mind wander as his fingers move over the keyboard.  He thinks of things he could be doing.  Things he might even like to do.  He never will, but he can think about them. 

               He risks a glance at his coworkers.  They look at him and whisper.  They never talk to him, but he does not mind.  Most of them are younger than him, and there would be nothing to talk about.  Most of them don’t seem to like him for some reason anyway.  Best to stay in his own area and leave them be.  There is only one person that he cannot avoid.  His boss, who comes over to him and disrupts the man’s routine by having him come to the boss’ office.

               Soon, the man is back at his desk.  He stares at the screen.  His routine has been disturbed.  He needs to get back into it.  A pay cut will not be terribly detrimental to him.  He spends so little, after all.  Still, he feels his chest tighten and he has to coax his fingers into working again.  He manages to finish the day and heads home.

               As he stops at the light and looks at the store on the corner, his mind begins to churn.  His routine has already been disturbed, so why not add something else into the mix?  He parks the car.  He sits there for a moment, looking at the bland street and the people walking along.  A wide, toothy grin starts to form, but he stops it before it can properly manifest.  He goes into the store with the barred windows.

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I'm sure most people can figure out what kind of store that is.  Here's a hint, it's not a grocery store, nor does it sell any food or food-like products.    

Word: Pawky

pawky

[paw-kee]

adjective, pawk·i·er, pawk·i·est. Chiefly British.

1. cunning; sly.

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             “You tricked me, you bastard!” Roared Tess as the handcuffs were clicked into place.

               David simply smiled in that aggravatingly smug, confident way he did when he knew he had the upper hand.  He held up his hand and the agents that stood on either side of Tess stood still. 

               “My dear, I did no such thing.” He said.  “After all, trickery implies falsehood.  I never once lied to you.”

               “Oh yeah, then what do you call this?”

               She moved her head around to indicate what was happening.  All around them, federal agents went through her things, rummaging through her drawers to find any evidence of her wrongdoings.  It was futile, of course.  Tess was smart enough not to have anything incriminating in her home. 

               “This is merely a poor government worker doing his job.  I did mention I worked for the government, didn’t I?”

               “You didn’t mention it was for the FBI.”

               “True, but then again, you never did ask which department I worked for, did you?”

               Tess clamped her mouth shut.  It was an unfortunate oversight on her part.  One she would make sure not to repeat.

               With her remaining silent, David continued.  “Think back to everything I’ve ever said to you.  Really think.  Was any of it a lie?  I mean, an outright lie.  Half-truths and a few omissions, yes, but never a bold-faced lie.”

               She did just that.  “Huh.  Okay, I admit, you’re good.  I never caught any of that.” Tess admitted. 

               “Thank you.” David said with a slight bow.   “Now then, to business.  I’m sure that there isn’t anything of importance here, but we’ll finish our check, just in case.  But you could save quite a bit of time and effort if you simply told us where you stash everything.  Oh, and yes, I know asking won’t do any good, but I have to try.”

               “Well good luck with that.  And I really hope you take your time finding my stuff.”

               “You know we will find it, right?  That’s inevitable.”

               It was Tess’ turn to smirk now.  “Oh sure, sure. Masters of investigation and all that.  I won’t bother saying it’s impossible to find either.  But I sure as hell didn’t make it easy.  And by the time you do find it, you’ll just be left wondering if it was all worth it.”

               “I’m sure it will.  Besides, this will be an excellent time for us to get to know each other better.  Like I said, I never lied to you, even when I said I consider you a friend.  I really do, or maybe did would be more appropriate here, feel that way.  Maybe now we can continue that, without the need for secrecy.”

               Tess huffed.  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, buddy.  You can go rot in a pit for all I care.”

               “Shame.  This could have been so much easier for both of us.”

               David nodded at the escort agents.  They took Tess and led her out of the building and to a waiting prisoner transport.  Tess had to work to suppress her grin.  While the exact methods were not what she envisioned, nor were they ideal, the results were the same.  And at the moment, Tess was exactly where she wanted to be.

               ******************************
Okay, so maybe it's a bit cliched and stuff, but whatever.  Cliches got to be cliches because they have some value, right?  As long as they're used properly they can still make for a good story.  Not sure if I used them right here though.  Oh well.

Word: Neoteric

   

neoteric

[nee-uh-ter-ik]

adjective

1. modern; new; recent.

noun

2. a new or modern writer, thinker, etc.

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           “Hey, Leon, check this out.” Mike said. 

He leaned over the side of the cubical wall and held out the object in question.  Leon eyed the black plastic rectangle quizzically.

“Yeah, it’s a phone.  What about it?”

“What about…Leon, this is quite simply the best piece of mobile technology that money can buy.”

“So it’s a new phone.”

Mike withdrew the phone to his side of the divider.  “This is not just a phone, Leon.  This is a mobile powerhouse.  The newest, the best, the penultimate.”

“Didn’t you say that last year about the phone you bought then?”

“What?”

“Yeah, you did.  You did say almost the exact same thing about your other phone.”

“What, that old thing?  That piece of junk isn’t worth even thinking about.”

“And you said that last year too, about the one you got two years ago.”

“What’s your point?”

“Mike, why do you get a new phone every year?”

Mike tilted his head.  “Why wouldn’t I?  I mean, don’t you?”

Leon pulled out his phone.  “Nope.  I’ve had this one for three years, and it works just fine.  Sure that battery doesn’t last long, but that’s what chargers are for, right?”

Mike recoiled in horror.  He acted as though the three year old piece of technology was some terrifying monster.

“How…how is…why do you…how can you live with something so out of date?”

“Pretty easily, I think.  I just don’t think I need to get a new phone every year.  I mean, if it works, why replace it?  Phones aren’t exactly cheap, you know.”

“Leon, you poor, misguided soul.  If a phone isn’t the latest model, it’s junk.  You need to replace that dinosaur as soon as you can.  Please, for me?”

Leon looked at his phone.  It had served him well, and continued to do so.  “Nah.  I like this one.  I’ll use it until it dies, then get one that’s reasonably priced.”

Mike backed away for a moment.  “Why…why do you do this to me?  Next you’ll be telling me you get computers off the shelf.”

“Sure.  Not like I need anything fancy.  Plus, it’s not like I know what most of the components do.  I mean, yeah, I can get someone to build me a custom model, but again, why?  Stock computers are perfectly fine.”

Mike acted like he had been dealt a physical blow.  “You’re killing me here.  At least tell me you don’t buy, ugh, used cars.” He said with a shudder.

“As long as the dealer’s reputable, most of them are very reliable, and a lot less costly.”

Mike gasped and collapsed into his wheeled office chair.  He clutched his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly.  Leon’s complete lack of interest in the best new stuff was like watching horror movie.  How could the man function without the latest tech?  How could anyone live without having the best? 

Leon simply went back to work.  He briefly wondered why anyone would spend so much money was beyond him.  Especially since he knew he would just replace the very expensive piece of technology the moment something newer came out.  After all, just because something was a bit older, did not mean it was bad.

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

Hey, as long as it works, why get something that's only slightly better for several hundred dollars?  I can never figure out why tech heads replace their stuff so often.