Word: Pwn

 

pwn

[ pohn, pawn, pee-ohn, -awn ]

 

verb (used with object)

Slang. to totally defeat or dominate, especially in a video or computer game:You just got pwned!I pwned those guys in the end.

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               Fred had no idea what was going on. He knew this game inside and out. He had been playing the franchise for years, and knew how it worked. He should be easily winning matches and raking in the digital renown. And yet, that was not what was happening.

               Fred was, in fact, losing. And not by a small amount either. He was being decimated. Crushed. Dominated at every turn. Nothing he did was enough to score even once. What was worse was who he was losing to. If the voice chat was to be believed, all his opponents were teenagers. People who had barely hit puberty, who were less than half his age, were obliterating him in one of his favorite games. And, as was the way of teens, they were not being gracious winners.

               After another round of verbal bashing by his squeaky-voiced opponents, he finally had enough. He set the controller down and closed his eyes for a moment. His mind drifted back to when he could actually win a match. What was different between then and now? He had more experience to draw from these days. He had learned more ways to eek out victories. More ways to game the system without actually cheating. And yet, none of that seemed to matter.

               He looked at his hands. There were a few faint lines forming on the back of them. Nothing too noticeable, at least not yet, but they were there. A looming sense of dread came over him. Could it be? Could it simply be his age that was slowing him down? Fred was not old. At least, he did not think of himself as old. He had not even hit 50 yet. There was no way he was slowing down that much.

               Was there?

               Sure there were a few dull aches in his wrists that had not been there a few years ago, but nothing really painful. And sure his eyes were not as good as they used to be, but so what? He could still see just fine. And maybe his reflexes were not up to par anymore. He shook his head and forced that line of thought out of his mind. Sure he was getting older, but he was certainly not old.

               He looked at the controller again. It had taken him a lot of practice to get used to the new console’s control system, but that was no longer a factor. But it used to take a lot less time to adapt to a new system. Another head shake. Another train of thought forced to be abandoned. He would figure this out.

               He would figure it out. He would win at least one match. One round. That was all he needed. Hell, he would even settle for losing by a narrow margin. Just something that told him he still had it. That he was not too old to enjoy his old hobby. Something to tell him that, no matter what happened, he could still call himself a gamer.

               At that moment, that was all he needed.

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I'm kind of surprised this one's here. I never thought I'd see modern gamer lingo in a dictionary (or dictionary adjacent website). I guess it's true that language is an ever evolving thing.

Word: Feirie

 

feirie

[ feer-ee ]

 

adjective Scot.

healthy; strong.

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               Jason felt out of place the moment he stepped foot in the building. He knew he would see a lot of people in good shape, it was a health center, after all. But this was beyond what he had expected. Every single person looked like they belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. And since everyone around him sported a six pack, it made him even more aware that he had himself a sizable keg.

               The only reason he did not turn around and leave was because he had promised his parents he would at least try. He took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves and approached the front desk. It was staffed by a very pretty young woman who looked like her idea of fun was a ten mile run.

               “Hello, and welcome to New Life Health Club.” She said, far too cheerfully for Jason’s liking. “How may I help you?”

               “Uh, yeah, I, uh, I’m here to join. I read a lot of reviews about this place that say you get fast results, so, uh, yeah.”

               “Oh we do indeed. I can guarantee that. We’ll get you in the best shape of your life, and then make that even better. And in way less time than a normal gym.”

               “That good, I guess. Uh, this isn’t going to involve any weird chemicals, is it?”

               “Nope. We do have our special workout shakes, but there’s nothing unusual about those. The ingredients are freely available if you want them. Other than that, it just the normal workout supplements that you can find anywhere.”

               “Oh, okay. So, how do it work? I mean, without anything dubious.”

               “Lots and lots of effort. I mean it. Like, a huge amount. Most people see fast and think easy. But it’s not. Not by a long shot. You’ll leave here in pain and wake up sore. There will be sweat. There will be tears. No blood though, thank goodness. It will be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. Well, physically anyway. But the results speak for themselves.”

               That did not sound like fun for Jason. He was very much the sit on the couch and play games kind of guy. The last time he had done anything strenuous was in high school. The receptionist clearly noticed his reluctance.

               “Here, let me show you something.”

               She reached behind the counter and pulled out a photo album, of all things. She looked around the room, then flipped through the album. She landed on a picture of a man even larger around the middle than Jason was.

               “See this guy?” She asked. “This is him when he first came here. That’s him now.” She pointed to a man who looked like he could use his own body as muscle chart for med students. “He got to where he is in around five months.” The receptionist said before she flipped through a few more pages. She showed him a picture of a young, very unhealthy woman. “This was me when I first got here.”

               Jason looked at the fat, dumpy woman in the picture and then at the incredibly fit beauty in front of him. There was a passing resemblance, but to think they were the same person was difficult to believe.

               “I could barely move when I first arrived since I was so out of shape. Now?”

               She placed her hands on the counter and jumped, easily landing on it. She pushed her body into a perfect handstand, and then even took one hand off the counter. She remained perfectly steady. She then arched her back until both her hand and her feet were both touching the counter. From the awkward position, she launched herself into a perfect back flip, landing on her feet. Then simply hopped back down behind the counter.

               “I got to this point in seven months.” She said. “I felt like quitting every day for four of them. But you can see the results. That’s what this place is. It’s back breaking work and constant effort, with results to match. If you don’t think you can handle that, then yeah, you can leave and find a normal gym. It’ll be easier, but much slower, and results are not guaranteed. So? What are you going to do?”

               Jason looked at the photo that still rested on the counter, then at the receptionist. He cast his gaze at the other incredibly fit people that went in and out of the health club.

               “Oh, what the heck. I’ll do it.”

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 I should probably get some more exercise. There's no places even remotely close to this where I am though, so it can be a little tough sometimes. I try to do some every day, but results are about as limited as you probably think. But, well, it's what I have, so it's what I do.

Word: Fructify

 

fructify

[ fruhk-tuh-fahy, frook-, frook- ]

See synonyms for: fructify / fructifying on Thesaurus.com

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verb (used without object), fruc·ti·fied, fruc·ti·fy·ing.

1. to bear fruit; become fruitful: With careful tending the plant will fructify.

verb (used with object), fruc·ti·fied, fruc·ti·fy·ing.

2. to make fruitful or productive; fertilize: warm spring rains fructifying the earth.

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               Vic brought down his machete, cutting through more vines. He swore the more he got through, the denser the rest of them became. Maybe it was just the fact that he had been cutting through the jungle for over a week. The heat and humidity were not helping his mood.

               “You know, doc.” He said as he cut through another plant that was blocking the vaguely defined path. “I know it’s not my job to ask questions, and I don’t get paid to know stuff, but after a week of this, I think I can bend the rules a little bit. Why the hell are we out here?”

               His employer, Dr. Reeve, looked up from his map and compass. He regarded the larger man carefully before replying. “I suppose you’re right. And it’s not like we’re in any danger of being overheard out here. Very well. We are searching for a very rare plant. This plant has only one known specimen alive. This is for a very important reason. It only bears fruit once every century. Nobody knows why this is, but that is not important. What is important is that it will be fruiting soon. That’s what we’re after.

               Vic paused mid swing. He turned to look at the small scholar. “Are you telling me that we came out here to the middle of the jungle for a piece of fruit?”

               “A rather simplistic view, but essentially correct. It is a fruit nobody alive has ever seen. I plan on using this fruit to breed more of the plant, not only saving the species, but also gaining very valuable subjects to study.”

               “It’s still a piece of god damned fruit!”

               “The rarest in the world, Victor. Not something you can just pop down to the supermarket for. Now come on, let’s continue. It should not be too much farther away. I want to take a few measurements, photos and samples before the fruit forms and ripens.”

               “Ripens? We’re going to be here until the damn fruit ripens?” Vic growled.

               “Of course. Why did you think I specified a long term expedition in your contract? Don’t worry, all the records say it has a very short ripening time. Oddly, it does not specify how long it is, just that it is short.”

               Vic was very close to turning around and leaving Dr. Reeve in the jungle. It was only his professional reputation that kept him from doing so. Even if he hated every moment of it and thought the goal was idiotic.

               It was an hour later that they reached a small clearing. Although calling it a clearing was not quite right. The plant life was still quite dense, but it was all low growth flora. The only real tree there was in the center of it. A large tree with sprawling branches that formed a rough dome shape. Dr. Reeve became immediately animated and he began fawning over the tree.

               “Seriously? This is it?” Vic asked.

               “Yes, Victor, this is it. This is our destination.”

               “Doesn’t look important enough to come all the way out here.”

               “Looks are very often deceiving, Victor. But do not worry, it shall be all worth it once it starts fruiting.”

               “And what do we do until then?”

               “You do nothing. Well, unless some pressing danger arrives. I will be quite busy though.”

               “So, I just sit and wait while you do whatever it is you do?”

               “Just so.”

               Vic did not need any further instructions. He plodded towards the tree, cleared out a space for himself, and sat down. He just hoped he would not be waiting for too long.

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Honestly, I would probably be more interested in eating the fruit than anything else. Probably a good thing I'm not part of any expedition like this.