Word: Turophobia

turophobia

[ tur-uh-foh-bee-uh ]

noun

an irrational or disproportionate fear of cheese.

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               Lucy and Jack walked hand in hand down the busy city streets.  The young couple barely noticed the crowds that accompanied them. 

               “So, where should we go for dinner on this fine day?” Lucy asked.

               “You’re asking that now?  After we’ve already left?”

               “Yes.”

               Jack sighed with a smile on his face.  “Doesn’t matter.” He said.  He waited for a moment before continuing.  “Well, it does, but there’s too much for me to choose.  How about this:  you give an option and I’ll let you know if I have some deep opposition to said choice.”

               “Okay then.  Let’s see.” Lucy said, stretching the word out.  “I’m thinking Italian.”

               Jack stiffened and his gait became halting.  “No.” He said quickly.

               “No to Italian?  Really?  I thought that was the big always good.  Okay, how about Mexican?”

               “No!” Jack barked. 

               “Seriously?  Not to two of the most delicious types of food out there?  What’s wrong with you that you don’t want either of them?”

               Jack’s eyes darted around nervously.  “Uh, I…I just don’t like them, that’s all.”
               “How do you not like Italian and Mexican?  They’re awesome.”

               “I just don’t, okay?  Just…just drop it and choose something else.  Something without…”  His voice petered out and he looked away from his girlfriend.

               “Without…what?”

               “Nothing.  Nevermind.”

               Lucy thought hard about what those two genres of food had in common.  There was only one

Big similarity.

               “Without cheese, maybe?”

               Jack nearly tripped over his own feet.  “Yes, without cheese.”

               “Don’t like cheese, huh?  Why not?  I know you’re not lactose intolerant.  You eat ice cream way too much.”

               “There’s no such thing as too much ice cream.  And just drop it okay?  Just no cheese.”

               “Oh, now I have to know.  Why won’t you eat cheese?  Your reactions are too strong for it to just not like the stuff.  Besides, there’s so many different kinds that there’s bound to be at least one you like.  No, this is something else.  What is it?”

               “It’s…it’s nothing.  Just drop it, okay?  Please?”

               “Nope.  That ship has sailed, man o’ mine.  Come on, tell me.”

               “Tell me or else the next time I make dinner, it’ll be a nice big mac and cheese.”

               Jack looked at her with wide, panicked eyes.  “Please don’t.  It won’t end well.”

               “Well why not?  I mean, it’s crazy.  You’re acting like…” A slow realization came to her mind.  “Like you’re scared of cheese.”  Jack turned a deep shade of red.  He fidgeted and looked anywhere other than at Lucy.  “Oh my god, you are, aren’t you?  You’re scared of cheese?”

               “I-it’s not funny!  It’s a real thing.”

               Lucy was too busy laughing to say anything else. 

               “I’m serious.” Jack continued.  “It’s called turophobia.  I looked it up.  And it’s not funny.  Whenever I see cheese, I freeze up.  I can’t breathe right, I can’t stop shaking, and all kinds of other things.  My body practically shuts down. It’s not something to laugh at.”

               “Wow, that must suck.  I mean, cheese is everywhere.  How do you keep yourself from panicking whenever you see someone eating pizza on the street?”

               “You know how horses have those blinders to keep from getting spooked by stuff?  Well, I kind of do something similar.  I just hold my hands up by my eyes whenever I pass an Italian place or a pizzeria or anything else like that.  And whenever I go grocery shopping, I get around it by shopping online.”

               “Got it.  So I shouldn’t give you a cheese platter for your birthday, huh?”

               “Don’t even think about it.”

               The two of them walked in silence for a few feet before Lucy said something.  “Sorry for laughing.  I know being badly phobic is a serious thing.  It’s just that, it caught me off guard, since it’s something so ridiculous, you know?”

               “Yeah, I know.  Everyone laughs when they find out.”

               “If it helps, I’m phobic too.  Not badly, but still.”

               “You are?”

               “Yup.  Ophidiophobia.  Snakes.  I…I can’t deal with snakes.  And it’s not just getting freaked out by them, like normal people.  A lot of the things you said that happen to you happen to me.  Maybe not as bad, since I’m not completely paralyzed with fear, but still.”

               “Good to know.  And hey, at least yours is justified.  Mine just makes no sense at all.”

               “Yeah, it really doesn’t, does it?  And even you have to admit, it is kind of funny, even if it is a serious mental condition.”

               “No.  Okay, maybe a little.  But still, no Italian for dinner.  Ever.”
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Man, there's a phobia for everything, isn't there?  Like, EVERYTHING.  Seriously, look up just how many phobias there are.  It's crazy just how many things a person can be cripplingly terrified of.

Word: Lilliputian

Lilliputian

[ lil-i-pyoo-shuh n ]

adjective

extremely small; tiny; diminutive.

petty; trivial: Our worries are Lilliputian when compared with those of people whose nations are at war.

noun

an inhabitant of Lilliput.

a very small person.

a person who is narrow or petty in outlook.

 

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               Dave had no idea how he got to where he was.  Oh, he knew the mechanics and the events, but they still confused him to the point that he had no idea what to make of things.  One moment he was with his friends, having fun on some small island, and the next he was in a courtroom surrounded by people that did not even reach his knees.

               Dave and his friends had been ambushed, and tied up by a literal army of the little guys, and was now facing some kind of judge.  What their crime was, he had no idea.

               “Your honor,” Said one of the tiny people in a British accent.  “Our histories tell of an invader named Gulliver.”

               “Wait, Gulliver?” Whispered Kristy, one of the captives.  “Like Gulliver’s Travels?  Isn’t that a really bad movie?”

               “It was a book first, Kris.” Dave whispered.

“This man was of enormous stature,” The Lilliputian lawyer continued, “and could easily destroy our entire nation.  However, our armies were able to drive him off.  And now, centuries later, they have returned for revenge with an army.”

“Six people is an army?” Another member of the group, Ryan, asked quietly.

“To people this small, yeah.” Harriet, the smallest member of the group, said.  “I mean, even I can step on them.”

“Your Honor, you must see these invaders executed.” The lawyer said.  The gallery clapped and cheered.

The last member of the group, Jim, stood up as well as his binds would allow.  “Uh, Your Honor, do we get a lawyer for this trial?”

“No.” The judge said.  “You are foreigners.  You have no rights on our lands, and so you must defend yourselves.”

Dave stood next.  “Okay then, how about this.  We’re not invaders.  We didn’t even know you guys existed.  Seriously, That Gulliver guy you mentioned?  We thought he was fictional.  Hell, I don’t think any of us have even read the book about him.  So yeah, we have no intention of invading or destroying or anything.  If you just let us go, we’ll go back to our boat and never come back.”  All the members of the group smiled and nodded vigorously.

“Lies!” The lawyer cried.  “How can we believe such blatant lies, Your Honor?  They come to our shores with weapons, tools of death and destruction.”

“No we don’t.” Dave said.  “Seriously, what did we have that could even be remotely confused for a weapon?”

“Bring in the tools of death!”

Dozens of Lilliputians pushed a large cart into the courtroom.  On it was the cooking equipment that the group had brought with them.

“That stuff?  None of that’s a weapon.” Ryan said.  “Well, unless you’re a hot dog or something.  Seriously, it’s for cooking.”

“More lies!  These things make great flames that can burn our cities to the ground!”

“Only if everyone here hold really still for like, two, three minutes.  And the grill?  How’s that going to burn anything?  You’d have to literally be standing on it while we lit it, and then even longer for it to heat up.”

“Who do you believe, Your Honor?  These invaders, or a trusted councilman?  It is clear these giants mean us harm.”

“Um, would it help to say that I’m a pacifist?” Harriet said.  “I get squeamish at the sight of my own blood.”

“It’s true, she does.” Dave said.

“We have no proof of any of these claims!” The lawyer said.

“Hey, uh, judge guy?” Kristy said.  “If this lawyer guy wants to talk proof, then he doesn’t have any either.  We just got to shore and unpacked our stuff.  We haven’t done anything to you guys, right?  I mean, if anything, you attacked us.”

“Is this true?” The judge asked.

“Well, I mean, yes, Your Honor, but we were just ensuring the safety of our lands.” The lawyer said.  The tiny man shifted uncomfortably as he spoke.  The judge sighed.

“Very well.  In light of this new evidence, I will release the invaders, on the condition that they immediately leave our island and never return.”

“We agree.” Al of them said together.

“Very well.  Release the prisoners and show them to their vessel.  However, it should be noted that if they cause any amount of death or destruction, accidental or not, this offer will immediately be rescinded, and the prisoners confined to prison for the rest of their days.”

The judge banged his tiny gavel.  Lilliputians ran around, scrambling to carry out the judges orders.  When their binds were cut, the group of five stood carefully and followed their diminutive escorts.

Dave looked to the rest of his friends as they were lead out of the court house. “Guess, uh, guess we’d better be careful where we step, huh?”    

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I've never read Gulliver's Travels, or watched any of the film adaptations.  Never really occured to me to read it or anything.  Maybe someday I will.

Word: Bon vivant

bon vivant

[ bon vee-vahnt; French bawn vee-vahn ]

noun, plural bons vi·vants [bon vee-vahnts; French bawn vee-vahn] .

a person who lives luxuriously and enjoys good food and drin

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               “Oh man, this spread, this spread is amazing.” Ted said.  He held a heaping plate of food stuffs.  “I just ate cheese and sausage that cost more than I make in a month.”

               “Uh huh.” Leon said dryly.  He was more interested in the people attending the charity gathering than the food.

               “Come on, man, lighten up.  This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for guys like us.  We have to take advantage while we can.”

               “Ted, we came here for a reason.  That reason is not eating.”

               Ted rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, I know.  Look, just because we’re trying to get a few quotes and sound bites doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun and stuff our faces with the best food money can buy.”

               Ted’s attention was immediately drawn to one of the wandering waitresses.  She held a try of sparkling champagne, and offered the small time reporters glasses with a huge smile on her face.  She stayed to chat a moment before moving on.  Ted watched the very pretty young woman go with rapt attention.

               “She’s totally into me.” He said.

               “No she’s not.”

               “She totally is.  You saw how she was looking at me, right?”
               “Pretty sure she’s acting that way for everyone.  Helps her get tips or something.”  He had no idea how tipping worked at a place like this, but he imagined being young, pretty, and friendly helped get them.  Indeed, as he watched, he saw one of the wealthy attendees slip one of the waitresses some cash.

               “Oh please.  You can think that because you’re blind to the mind of women.”

               “Oh yeah, and you’re an expert?  Remind me again how many times you’ve been dumped?”

               Ted’s grin faltered and he buried himself in his food.  He mumbled some kind of response and waved his hands around.  Leon rolled his eyes, told his partner he would be working the room, and headed off to do his job.

               He found it much harder than he anticipated.  He figured the people here would welcome any good press.  But once they learned he was not from a national news outlet, they ignored him.  He might as well have been invisible to them.

               “Having some problems?”

               The voice came from a waitress who was going above and beyond the rest in her hunt of tips by leaving one extra button undone.  She was carrying an empty tray tucked under her arm, and had an overly confident smirk on her pretty face.

               “Uh, what?” Leon replied.

               “I heard you and your friend.  Well, most of it anyway.  You two are small time reporters, right?”

               “Yeah, so?”

               “So, since you’re small time, you won’t get anywhere with these pigs.”

               “Oh?”
               “These guys are used to luxury.  They live and breath the best.  That means if you aren’t among the top, you won’t be worth their time.  So you either have to lie and tell them you’re part of a big name group, or go to a different source.”

               “Which is you, I take it?”

               “Yeah, but I warn you now, I won’t be giving you some puff piece about a charity thing.”

               Leon looked around at the party goers.  None of them were paying him any attention.  “Okay, you’ve got my attention.  What kind of info do you have?”

               “A lot.  See, unlike most of the staff here, I’m not a one-time hire.  I work for the host full time.  A real regular.  And do you know how he treats me?”

               “How?”

               “See that painting over there?”

               She pointed at a classical painting.  Probably genuine and probably older than some countries. 

               “To these guys, the only difference between me and that painting is that I’ll get them drinks on command.  I’m just a pretty thing that’s there to be looked at from time to time.”

               “That’s horrible.”

               She shrugged.  “That’s life.  I’ve been working here since I was 18, so I’m used to it.  And I’ve learned going unnoticed has its advantages.  Nobody pays attention to me, so they talk, even when I’m around.  Over the years, I’ve learned a lot of things.  I not only know about the skeletons in the closet, I’ve probably cleaned most of them, if you get my meaning.”

               “I think I do, yes.” Leon said.  If she was telling the truth, this could make his career.  There was just one problem. “And what will all this juicy info cost me?  I mean, it’d probably be easier to just blackmail your boss.”

               “Blackmail?  No way.  That’s a great way to get a bullet in my head.  No, this is way better.  And as for what I want?  I want to see his sweat.  I want his to squirm.  He’ll wonder who sold him out.  He’ll be obsessed with it.  He’ll never suspect a lowly serving girl, and that’s the best thing.  Watching him fall apart is all the reward I need.”

“You are a horrible person, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a nice girl, but horrible?  That honor goes to the pigs wallowing in their own luxurious filth.  So, you in?”

Leon only thought about it for a moment.  “Sure.  Let’s find someplace out of the way and we’ll talk.”

Her smile became downright wicked.  “Great.  Meet me outside in half an hour, and we’ll make some pigs squeal.”  

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A bit of advice.  If you ever find yourself becoming fabulously rich, always pay attention to the staff.  Even the lowest of them.  They can learn a lot of things you might not want to be found.