Word: Epicurean

 

epicurean

[ ep-i-kyoo-ree-uhn, -kyoor-ee- ]

Primary meanings of epicurean

adjective

1. fond of or adapted to luxury or indulgence in sensual pleasures; having luxurious tastes or habits, especially in eating and drinking.

2. fit for an epicure: epicurean delicacies.

(initial capital letter) of, relating to, or characteristic of Epicurus or Epicureanism.

noun

3. an epicure.

4. (initial capital letter) a disciple of Epicurus.

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               Richard was used to the finer things in life. His family’s small getaway house was larger than most people’s primary residences. He always owned the latest and greatest of whatever he wanted. He ate at the finest restaurants in the world. Even at home, he ate only the finest of meals, due to his family’s head chef having a Micheline Star. He knew good things in life. And what he was looking at was not it.

               The plate in front of him was covered with something that could loosely be called food. It was some kind of chunked meat in a sauce that had probably come from a jar. There was a pile of something that could be identified as vegetables, although with how limp and soggy everything was, it was hard to tell what kind. Just about the only thing he could identify with some certainty was the pile of mashed potatoes. And eve those had odd dark flakes and lumps in them.

               He looked at the family around him. They belonged to his girlfriend, Lisa. She was a beautiful girl, who looked like she came from a standard of living closer to his. Now, seeing her laugh with people who probably made less than 50 grand a year, it was obvious that he had been mistaken. At least they seemed…nice.

               They occasionally asked him questions, and he answered them as politely as he could. Even Lisa’s father seemed to generally accept him, even though he was dating the man’s daughter. But they were barely middle class at best. The tableware was cheap plastic, the décor had probably came from many garage sales, and they wore outfits that looked like they came from a bin.

               “Hey, Rich.” Lisa said, leaning close and talking softly. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

               “Oh, uh, right. Sure. I’ll just take a bite and…”

               “Oh don’t be like that. I know it doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but it’s good, I promise. Besides, Mom worked hard on it, so not eating it would upset her.”

               Richard made a non-committal grunt. The last thing he wanted was to upset Lisa’s parents. She might come from a lower class, but he did like her. So, he sucked it up, speared a chunk of meat and, after only a moment’s hesitation, put it in his mouth.

               He froze, fork still in his mouth, morsel of food resting on his tongue. It was indeed very good. Much better than it looked. But that was not what caused his hesitation. In terms of pure taste, he had had better. But there was something about this food. A quality that nothing else he had ever eaten had possessed. Something he could not quite put into words. But whatever it was added a depth to the meal. It made the flavors stand out more, making it seem far better than it was. And considering that it was worthy of a respectable restaurant, that meant something.

               He slowly chewed and swallowed before tasting the potatoes and vegetables. They possessed the same quality and depth of flavor that the meat had. Richard was momentarily lost in the food, letting the conversation wash over him. And then something happened. He did not know when, but he found himself laughing with the others. He found himself enjoying their company much more than he had. It was like the food had unlocked a door he had not even known existed.

               And in that moment, the finer things in life did not seem so fine anymore.

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Good food just makes things better, doesn't it? Always be sure to enjoy your meals, even if they aren't the best in the world.

Word: Cantillate

 

cantillate

[ kan-tl-eyt ]

verb (used with object), can·til·lat·ed, can·til·lat·ing.

to chant; intone.

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               When Sarah woke up, there were many strange things she noticed. She was on a hard slab instead of a nice, soft bed. The air was cold and damp instead of warm, the smell of mold filled the air when it should have been house plants and air freshener. When she opened her eyes, her worst fears had been confirmed. She was not in her room.

               Well, she supposed that was no surprise, considering the night she had had. She did not remember too much, but she knew she should be in a bedroom, not some kind of dungeon. There was a light dangling from the ceiling, so at least she was in a place with power. That was something. Not much, but something. And she was dressed, which was more of a comfort than she would have thought. As was the suspicious lack of hangover.

               And so, Sarah did the only thing she could reasonably be expected to do. She panicked. She shook and trembled and hyperventilated. There was a lot of screaming as well, which lead to nothing. But, it seemed like the right thing to do. She had no idea how long she spent having a panic attack, but she eventually wound down, simply because she ran out of energy to continue panicking. But now, it was time to actually try something productive.

               A quick look around the room told her next to nothing. She was in a dimly lit stone room that was smaller than her old college dorm room. The bed was a cold metal slab, and there were no windows. The only door was made of wood, and she assumed it was locked. But, she still had to try, just in case. Sure enough, the door was locked. It did lead to another discovery though. It was a very old door in an environment that was not good for wood.

               A few solid tugs was enough to make pieces of the door break off. Sarah discarded the rotting wood and shoved, breaking the now weakened door. Her situation had not improved much. Instead of being in a dimly lit cell, she was in a dimly lit hallway. There were no guards at least, but there were a lot of other doors, most of which were either open or broken. There was little reason to search those, so she chose a direction and started walking.

               Several minutes after she started, she heard something. Voices coming from farther down the hall. There were several of them, and they spoke in a low, rhythmic chant. Some kind of religious ceremony maybe? She mentally cursed. Had she been taken by some kind of demon worshipers? This seemed like the kind of place they would hang out. Not that she knew a lot about demon worshippers or anything.

               As she went, the voices slowly grew louder. And the more she listened, the more Sarah came to realize something. The voices were wrong. The chanting was wrong on a level she could not quite explain. They spoke in a language she did not recognize, but there was an unsettling wrongness to them. Like they were not actually speaking words, but something that was somehow the opposite of words. They made her stomach churn and her hands shake.

               She was torn. Part of her wanted to run the other way. Get away from whatever was happening and be done with it. But a part of her felt that was the wrong course of action. She had no idea where she was, and would need to find people to tell her that piece of important information. And the only place she knew there were people was forward. She would have to be careful though. Be sneaky and not get caught until she could get the drop on one of them and make him tell her where she was.

               It was a stupid plan. She knew that right away. But it was also the only plan she had. There was no guarantee the hallway behind her lead anywhere. Or it could lead to people not currently engaged in speaking some kind of nightmare chant to do…something. So, she did the dumb thing and kept going.

               When she got to the end of the hall, the words made her skin crawl. She almost thought that was more literal that she would have liked, but she swallowed that feeling. Instead, she stood before a large set of double door. These were metal, and in much better shape than the one to her cell. She took a last look behind her and swallowed a lump in her throat. It was time to either run, or do something.

               She placed her hand on the door and opted to do something. She just had no idea what.

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Ah hah! A cliffhanger! Muahahah I am evil and...stuff. What? No, of course I know where the story is going. There's no way I'd just end it so I didn't have to make anything up. That's the farthest thing from my mind. 

Word: Wintle

wintle

[ win-tl ]

Scot.

---

noun

1. a rolling or staggering motion.

verb (used without object), win·tled, win·tling.

2. to roll or swing back and forth.

3. to tumble over; capsize.

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               The investors were lined up. Five of them, all dressed in immaculate suites that probably cost more than Jerry made in a year. They stood around the test area, talking quietly amongst themselves. Jerry, dressed in the nicest clothes he could, went over to greet them.

               “Greetings, gentlemen.” He said. “I have a very exciting opportunity for you all today. The future of the auto industry. A revolutionary—”

               “Yes, yes, we’ve heard it all before.” One of the investors said with a dismissive wave. “Get on with it.”

               Jerry stumbled around his words, but stopped before he said anything to really upset these men. Instead, he just texted his assistant, who was waiting in the prototype. The new vehicle rolled out. The driver’s area was a clear plastic bubble with a seat suspended by axel rollers, with the controls set into a panel attached to the chair. The driver was secured to his seat by a harness, and was wearing all the required safety equipment. The prototype had two wheels set into the bottom of the sphere, although they looked a little odd. They were wider than normal, were covered in tiny holes, and had rounded hubcaps.

               “Behold, our prototype design.” Jerry said, trying to sound proud. He knew it didn’t look like much, but it worked. “The future of road transport everywhere. It is, quite simply, the safest car anyone can ever drive. Period.”

               “It looks stupid.” An investor said. “Nobody will buy something like looks like a damn kids toy.”

               The others voiced their agreement. That was not a good sign. Jerry would have to wow them with performance over looks.

               “Yes, I know it’s not much to look at.” He said. “But I assure you it’s the future. And keep in mind this is just a prototype. With your investment, I hope to be able to make it look much more appealing to the consumer, as well as work out some of the problems this version has.”

               The mention of problems made them grumble. Jerry winced. He should not have said that. Well, it was too late now. He had better get the real show started.

               “Okay, let’s not worry about that right now. You’re all here to see how this little wonder works, so let’s get to it.” With a quick text, his partner started moving.

               It rolled over the course that was purposely made rough and uneven. As it did, tiny spokes jutted out of the wheel, allowing the vehicle to almost glide over the ground. The driver barely bobbed, and it looked like he was driving over smooth pavement. Jerry gave the investors a dumbed down summary of what they were seeing.

               The driver approached a large wall set in the middle of the course, and drove right into it. The vehicle rolled up the wall, then inevitably lost its balance and flipped. The driver seat twisted with the bubble’s movement, always keeping the driver right side up. The wheels shifted so they were now on the floor. The seat turned, so the driver was facing away from the wall, and he began driving like nothing had ever happened.

               The investors now seemed much more interested. That was good, so Jerry kept going. “It features a wide array of motors that will ensure the driver is always right side up, and facing whatever direction they need to go in. Not only is reversing a thing of the past, but any collision with large objects might as well not even happen. But, you may ask, what happens if it lands on its side?”

               The driver picked up as much speed as the vehicle could muster and hit a large, steep ramp with one wheel. It did the expected thing and tilted before toppling onto its side. The rounded hubcap made it wobble and list oddly. Then it started moving. The hubcap proved to be another, smaller wheel. It was not as steady as when both normal wheels were on the ground, and it took the rough terrain much less effectively, but it drove. Eventually, the driver was able to get the vehicle righted and back on both wheels.

               “No collision will flip this car. Nothing will shake it. No normal accident will keep it from righting itself and keeping on the road. Now, it’s not invincible, but it’ll take one hell of a collision to put this thing out of commission. Now, it’s not perfect. Obviously, the looks aren’t great. And it doesn’t have a long travel time, or a high max speed. But with your help, I feel confident that we can make it move faster, drive longer, be better at what it does, and look great doing it. So, gentlemen, what do you think?”

               “We’ll give it some consideration. If we agree you’ll hear from us within the week.”

               “Of course, sirs. An opportunity this great doesn’t come without risk, so I understand you needing to think it over. If you’ll join me for refreshments, I have some written material for you to look over, and you can talk to some of the fine people who worked on it.”

               Jerry guided the investors off of the testing grounds and to an indoor area with everything he mentioned. He just hoped this would be enough to really sway them to invest. 

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I'd drive a car like this. It might look silly, but sometimes that's the price of progress.