Word of the Week: Conurbation!

This week's word is CONURBATION: an extensive urban area resulting from the expansion of several cities or towns so that they coalesce but usually retain their separate identities.

Zinc and Dr. Sheridan lingered in the hallway at the Windy Beach Convalescence Home. “Sorry I’m so late,” apologized Zinc. “Traffic was backed up all over the Bay area conurbation!”

“It’s a good thing you’re here now. Mr. Baguette has been asking for you,” said Dr. Sheridan, flipping over a page on her clipboard. “Something about changing his will before it’s too late. Are you his next of kin, Mr. Oxide?”

“Well, Uncle Pierre’s not my actual uncle per se,” said Zinc uncomfortably. “We’re not related by blood. His second ex-wife was my stepmother’s half-sister.”

Dr. Sheridan’s lovely brow furrowed in conurbation. “So that makes him your-?

“I’ve always thought of him as a distant cousin,” confessed Zinc. “You think that’s complicated, you should talk to my mechanic, Ax. I was the best man at his wedding when he accidentally married his own aunt because he was a foundling who didn’t know who his parents were. Not to mention he was already married to my sister, Chastity.”

“Who is Mr. Baguette’s next of kin?” persisted Dr. Sheridan. “And do you know the name of his lawyer?”

Trash Talk Tuesday: Bite you into a frame!

T's trash talk doesn't always make sense, but it's always vivid.

"I am not a hot air balloon! I am going to bite you into a frame, because you're being bad!"

Word of the Week: Taxon!

This week's word is TAXON: a taxonomic category, as a species or genus.

Diamonda stormed into the trophy room, nearly tripping over the huge polar bear rug in the doorway. “Stella!” she spat, her sapphire-blue eyes glinting angrily. “You know you’re not allowed within a thousand yards of Uncle Pierre’s house! I’m calling your parole officer!”

“Ahem,” mumbled Torque uncomfortably. “I’ll just leave you ladies to talk things out.” He killed the music and casually melted into the background, hiding behind a moth-eaten stuffed water buffalo.

“Diamonda?” Stella frowned prettily, staring around the room at the pelts and mounted heads. “Is that you? How did we end up in West Africa?”

“Don’t try that amnesia stunt on me,” hissed Diamonda. “It might have fooled the judge and both of your ex-husbands, but it doesn’t fool me!”

“You wouldn’t report your favorite sister, would you?” Stella fingered a brass plaque that listed the taxon of the Australian kookaburra bird. “I’ll buy you a new mink stole if you forget you saw me here,” she wheedled.

“Mink?” scoffed Diamonda. “The taxon mink alone would bankrupt you, and we both know it! Unless your new sugar daddy is bringing in more blackmail money than your last one!”

“You leave Torque out of this!” snarled Stella.

Trash Talk Tuesday: Nasty toaster!

Sometimes, Trash Talk is elaborate. Other times, it is concise, to the point, and strangely evocative.

"Go! I will chunk you into a nasty toaster!"

Word of the Week: Quagga!

This week's word is QUAGGA: an extinct equine African mammal related to and resembling the zebra.

Stella led Torque down the hallway into the huge trophy room at the mansion. “I had no idea Uncle Pierre was such a prolific hunter,” she exclaimed, her eyes round with awe. “Just look at all these pelts! They must be worth a fortune!”

“I’ll say,” gloated Torque, stroking the glassy-eyed head of an extinct quagga. “And soon all of this will be ours!”

“Just as long as my sister, Diamonda, doesn’t persuade poor Uncle Pierre to change his will.” Stella slipped her arms around Torque’s neck. “It would just ruin everything.”

“Oh, I’ll see to it she doesn’t.” Torque pressed a button on the CD player, and they began to dance as Mick Quagga sang, “I can’t get no satisfaction.”

Trash Talk Tuesday: My special finger!

Trash talk isn't limited to bath time. The other day when our son hurt T's hand, we got a beautiful sample:

"He has wilted my special finger! Now we will just eat him for breakfast!"

Word of the Week: Incalescence!

This week's word is INCALESCENCE: the process of becoming warm or hot.

“I’m here to see Dr. Sheridan,” announced Zinc as he strode into the Windy Beach Incalescence Home.

“Yes, we spoke on the phone,” said a honey-sweet voice behind him. “I’m Dr. Sheridan.”

“Tiffette?” Zinc whirled, staring incredulously at the shapely, white-coated figure. “I thought I’d never see you again after you eloped with Xavier!” He crushed Dr. Sheridan to his chest in a breathless embrace.

“Mr. Oxide, this is neither the time nor the place,” she whispered, pushing him away and adjusting her stethoscope. “Your uncle Pierre’s condition is still critical. There’s no way to tell whether his convalescence will continue.”

“Sorry, Tiffette,” he mumbled, gazing deep into the emerald-green eyes he knew so well. “I shouldn’t have let the incalescence of my heart run away with me.”