Word: Spondulicks

spondulicks

or spon·du·lix

noun Older Slang.

money; cash.

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The priests gathered around the elegantly inscribed circle.  Holy candles were lit, filling the air with the sweet scent of incense.  Each of the men held a copy of the Bible opened to different passages.

               “And now, to those gathered here, we embark on a holy mission.” The head of the group, Cardinal Andrews, said.  “For now we prove beyond all doubt that our God is real, and he is truly the almighty.  With this, our greatest ritual, we shall show the doubters, the nonbelievers, and the heretics the true, proper path to salvation.”

               A chorus of “amen” filled the air.  Each priest began chanting the appropriate passages in their books.  The candles flared high, their scent permeating the air with the pungent aroma.  After almost five minutes, the chanting slowed to a stop.  Once the voices ended, everything was silent.  It was a heavy, cloying silence that went far beyond a lack of sound.

               And then it happened.  The circle began glowing, then shining, and the light became so bright the priests had to look away.  When it stopped, the circle was occupied. 

               The man was twice as tall as a normal man, with golden skin and a form that spoke of wealth and prestige.  His clothes were fine silk, he bore several bulging leather bags at his waist, and his hands were adorned with precious gems.

               “Who summons me?” The deity said.  His voice was heavy and powerful, and filled the room like the sound of a gong, even though he had not spoken particularly loudly.    

               “You…you are the one true God?  The Father of Christ?” Cardinal Andrew asked hesitantly.

               The god furrowed his brow.  “No, I’m not him.  Is that who you wanted?  Really?  That insufferable, upstart?”

               The priests looked around at each other.  They shuffled nervously.  Somehow they had summoned a pagan god.  And they all feared for their immortal souls.

               “You aren’t the one true God then?” Andrews asked nervously.

               “One…you humans.  So foolish.  There is no one true god.  It’s only who you choose to follow that matters.  You guys belong to that newcomer Yahweh.  Or is if Jehovah?  I can never remember.  Well, anyway, I can see you all worship him.  Well, you worship both of us, but he’s the one you think about.  So, why’d you summon me instead of him?”

               “We…we thought we did.”

               “Hm… let me see.”

               The golden god bent to examine the summoning circle.  His golden eyes scanned the white lines critically. 

               “Ah, here’s the problem.  You didn’t specify which god you wanted.  You just asked for the most powerful, and most worshipped one.  The upstart is pretty high up there, but he’s not at the top.  If you wanted him, you need to be more specific.”

               “Oh.  Uh, can…can you help?”

               “I could.  But it’ll cost you.  I don’t work for free.  Hell, if you weren’t so dedicated to me, I wouldn’t have told you as much as I did.”

               “Uh…we…we’re Catholics.  We worship the God of Christ.”

               “Uh huh.  You keep telling yourself that.”

               One of the other priests spoke, asking the question all were thinking.  “What god are you, sir?”

               The god smiled.  “Me?  I’m the top god.  I am he who all worship.  I am that which makes nations and topples empires.  I am coveted by all.  Those who don’t have me, want me, and those who do have me, want more.  I am all, I am everywhere.  I am the single greatest force in this world.”

               “L-Love?” One of the priests said hopefully.

               “No, you fool.  Money.  I am the god of money.  Cash, coin, greenbacks, dollars, cents, euros, pounds, yen, won, whatever you want to call me.  As long as it’s money, it’s me.  Every time you use money, you’re sending a prayer to me.  Every transaction, every donation, every paycheck.  Everything that uses money is mine.”

               “But…but…” Andrews said. 

               “I mean, come on, do you think the Vatican was built with whishes and good intentions?  Do you think the builders worked for free?  No.  I fund your little church.  I make it possible for you to do what you do.  You honor me just as much as you do Yahweh, if not more.  Don’t try and deny it.  You all know it’s true.  Hell, I can tell what each of you are worth, and let me tell you, you guys are living large.  And it’s all thanks to me, not the upstart that you pretend to worship.”

               “But in the Bible…the moneylenders…and the bankers…and…”

               “And when has the Bible ever mattered to you?  Trust me, every time you take collections, every time you donate to anyone, it all lines my pockets, so to speak.  The only one who do more in my name are the big corporations.  I love those things.  I mean, an entire economic system dedicated to me.  It’s beautiful.”

“But…we wanted…”

“I know what you wanted.  But you got me.  My advice is to make the most of it.  Capitalize.  Use my presence here to fill your bank accounts as much as possible.  I won’t be on this plane of existence forever, so you might as well get in good while I’m here.”

The priests looked at each other, now with very different looks on their faces.  Only Cardinal Andrews still looked fearful.  When someone spoke, it was the priest who had asked the god for his identity.

“What should we do?”

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

 In this day and age, money isn't just the root of all evil.  It's the root of everything.

Word: Degringolade

dégringolade

[ dey-gran-gaw-lad; English dey-grang-guh-lahd ]

noun, plural dé·grin·go·lades [dey-gran-gaw-lad; English dey-grang-guh-lahdz] .

French. a quick deterioration or breakdown, as of a situation or circumstance.

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               Everything was perfect.  All possibilities were accounted for.  Nothing could have gone wrong.  Which is, of course, why everything did go wrong.

               When the aliens showed up on Earth, we had plenty of warning.  Unlike what happens in most Hollywood movies, the extraterrestrial ship showed up on our telescopes months before the ships arrived.  Radio transmissions were sent out, containing the basics of our three most common languages: English, Spanish, and Chinese.  The soon to be visitors did the same, sending basic lessons of their language.  Thanks to this, we knew they were willing to be diplomatic and civil in their visit to our planet.

               The entire world jumped into action.  Delegates from every country in the world made plans for the aliens.  Things to do, places to see.  Every step was carefully planned out so that our guests would see humanity in the best possible way.

               And for almost two weeks, it was good.  Nothing went wrong.  The alien delegation was suitably entertained, and had no problem eating our food.  In fact, they were particularly fond of dark chocolate, saying it was highly nutritious for them.  And just like that, we knew what our prime export on the galactic market would be. 

               And then Murphy and his law came calling.  Nobody remembers what city it was in, or even what country.  Hell, the continent is a mystery these days.  All we know is that it happened because of a pigeon.  A common, everyday grey pigeon.  That was what caused everything to collapse. 

               While the aliens were being shown the sites of one of the big cities, the bird took flight, and then did what all pigeons do.  It pooped.  A chunky white blood of bird feces landed on the head of the alien’s leader.  This was bad.  It got worse when the human guides tried to play it off for laughs and wipe it off.

               See, the aliens obviously not told us everything about their culture.  That would be crazy, right?  Well, it turns out that the act of cleaning another is one of the biggest insults there is.  It’s like speaking baby talk to an adult, but ten times worse.  Needless to say, our guests were not pleased. 

               And from there, everything spiraled out of control.  Every attempt we made to placate them ended up making things worse.  It was either an insult to them, or else came off as pandering and insincere.  It was not long before they left.

               They went back to their home planet, leaving us to wonder if we had blown our chance at a good relationship with the larger galactic society.  Our question was answered five years later.  The aliens came back.  But this time, they were not here to be civil.  There were a lot more of them, and these ships were not built for politics.

               And well, you know the rest.  It was a massacre.  The only reason we’re still alive is because the aliens need the manpower to work the various farms and factories that have take over the planet.  An that, my young friend, is how a pigeon caused the fall of humanity.

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

Living in a big city must suck if, for no other reason, you have to deal with pigeons all day.  Like, all the time if you're outside, there will be pigeons.  Must get annoying.  Unless the pigeons act like these guys.  Then that must be pretty cool.

Word: Svengali

Svengali

[ sven-gah-lee, sfen- ]

noun

a person who completely dominates another, usually with selfish or sinister motives.

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               Lord Elmire was in a good mood as he entered his colleague’s room.  So far, everything had gone wonderfully for him and his territory.  And it was about to get so much better.  He could feel it in his sizable stomach.

               “Greetings, Moren.” Lord Elmire said.  “And how are you this fine day?”

               Lord Moren Transi stood by the window, overlooking the land surrounding his manor.  The taller man peered over his shoulder.  “I am excellent, Julous.  And you?  How is your daughter doing?”
               “Both of us are in fine health, thank you.”

               “Wonderful.  That is so good to hear.  Please, do have a seat.”

               Julous took his host up on his offer, selecting one of the plush seats Moren kept just for guests.  A serving girl came and offered him a glass of fine liquor.  The lord eyed the girl as he took the glass.  She was very pretty, and was dressed to show an almost scandalous amount of skin.  She looked nervous and scared, but that was to be expected.  Thankfully, the servant binding on her ankle made her steady and prevented any unfortunate accidents. 

               “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your summons?” Julous asked after taking a sip of his drink. 

               Moren sat across from his guest, but waved away the offered drink his servant brought him.  Julous swore he saw the girl flinch, but that was most likely a trick of the eye.  The magic on her binding kept such things from happening, or at least greatly suppressed them. 

               “I’ve been thinking.” The lord said.  “Both of our territories have been prospering at an unprecedented level, have they not?”

               “Indeed.” The guest said with a nod.  “I have more coin in my coffers now than in the past five years combined.”

               “Good, good.  Well, given that, I thought it was time we merged our two lands.”

               Julous’ face lit up.  “A formal alliance then?  How wonderful.  Your son and my daughter will make a fine couple, and your lands will be all the stronger for it.”

               Moren smiled.  It was a thin, small thing, but for some reason, it sent the hairs on the back of Julous’ neck standing on end. 

               “I apologize, but you seem to have misunderstood me.  I must have misspoke, so it is perfectly understandable.  I did not mean an alliance.  I meant you would submit to me, and I would claim your lands as my own.”

               The large man’s face fell.  “That joke, Moren, was in very poor taste.”

               “No joke.  You will kneel to me.  Here.  Now.  Oh, don’t worry, I’ll treat you well.  You’ll retain some manner of influence, second only to my own.”

               Julous set his glass aside.  “And what makes you think that I’ll submit?  Our armies are equal in strength.  Any conflict between us will end in an unfortunate amount of bloodshed and weaken us enough that others can swoop in and take over.  And there’s no guarantee you’ll win such a conflict.  Need I remind you that of the two of us, I’m the better tactician.”

               “Indeed, indeed.  You are quite cleaver, despite your appearance.  But that does not matter.  You will still submit to me.”
               “And why is that?”
               “Because your lands already belong to me.  You just don’t know it yet.”

               “Oh?”
               “You remember the sad state your territory was in just a few years ago, yes?  Well, why is it prospering now?”

               “That would be my new advisor.  He did propose some revolutionary ideas.  I was hesitant to adopt them at first, but now I’m quite glad I did.”

               “And where did this new advisor come from?”

               Lord Julous Elmire thought about his advisor’s background.  It hit him in a flash and his blood ran cold.  This was aided by the chilling smile that snaked along Moren’s face.

               “Oh yes.  You know now, don’t you?  My men have been infiltrating your lands for years.  Your people might as well already by mine.”

               Julous’ hand glowed and the objects in the room sprang to life at his command.  Moren sat, unperturbed by the threat. 

               “Now, now, Julous.  Let’s not be hasty.” Moren said calmly.  “Even if you did that, what good would it do?  We are in my house on my land.  How far do you think you would get if you harmed me?”

               The lord trembled and the glow around his hands dissipated.  The objects clattered to the ground. 

               “There we go.  That is much better.”

               “Why?  Why do this?  What do you want with my land that you would go to such lengths to get it?”

               “Why?  Hm, well, I suppose their wealth and resources will help in acquiring other territories, thus furthering my rise to power.  But really, that is just a bonus.  I just want the land.”

               “You…want it?”

               “Oh yes.  I want it, and so I take it.  Simple, is it not?”

               The hefty man’s eyes went wide.  “Greed?  Nothing but pure greed?”
               “Correct.  Now, kneel.  You have no choice in the matter.  If you want to walk out of here alive, you will do as I say.”

               Out of the corner of his eyes, Julous could see a few servants gathering.  He was also keenly aware that all were armed.  Not heavily, but armed, nonetheless.  With clenched teeth, the former Lord Elmire stood and knelt before his new lord.

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Could I have done this without making it a fantasy story?  Without the magic and weird names and stuff?  Yes.  Yes I could have done that.  Quite easily, in fact.  So why did I include these aspects when they are completely unnecessary to the story?  Because I wanted to, that's why.  So there, ha-ha.