Here we are again, sharpening our brains in our quest for the fountain of youth. Okay, sorta…not really.
But if half a century from now you were to find yourself *unable to spell CLOCK backwards, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
(*A doctor once tried this test on a grandma I know to see if she was getting on with Alzheimer’s. True story.)
Actually, I really just want to see what you can do with this new set of words. Here they are, folks.
To see previous word challenge attempt, click here.
Bhakti: (Hinduism) loving devotion to a deity leading to salvation and nirvana; open to all persons independent of caste or sex
Saleroom: an area where merchandise (such as cars) can be displayed.
Genuflect: verb; bend the knees and bow in church or before a religious superior or image; bend the knees and bow in a servile manner
Knackwurst: short, thick highly seasoned sausage
Geographically: Adverb; With respect to geography
Dandy: (Noun)A man who is much concerned with his dress and appearance; a sailing vessel with two masts; a small mizzen is aft to the rudderpost
(Adj.) Very good
It was rumored around town that the new hire at the Chevy saleroom was a dandy. Ms. Lovell couldn’t resist taking a peek—what harm would there be in pretending she needed a new truck? Her old jalopy was indeed falling apart at the seams, and though she couldn’t afford a new one no one had to know the pitiful state of her bank account. Least of all Mr. Bashir, whose thick head of black curls and broad shoulders were causing clicking tongues to disrupt the weekly Bingo over at the community center. If he could get Martha Hartford, a bona fide spinster, to moan and bewail her plight, then there would have to be something there. And Ms. Lovell simply must find out for herself.
At precisely eight o’clock the next morning, Ms. Lovell arrived at the car dealership only to discover the whole place closed for the day. The curious thing, however, was the fact that the parking lot geographically adjacent to the building brimmed with men in black robes entering the back door. Ms. Lovell could see a figure heading the throng, who appeared to resemble the descriptions she’d heard of Mr. Bashir.
It must be some sort of a religious meeting, thought Ms. Lovell. Hadn’t she read of a bhakti, where men and women congregate to worship a divine being? She’d once dreamt of pursuing spiritual enlightenment far in the jungles of India since the day she saw a travelogue displaying golden naked torsos and rippled muscles of the Oriental East. India. How the name itself rolled across her tongue in exotic pleasure.
Her heart palpitated in erratic measures. Ms. Lovell reached for the back door, and with a hand on her chest, she pushed it open. Darkness, and the strong odor of knackwurst, greeted her. When her vision adjusted, she saw rows of men genuflecting in front of an oddly shaped idol.
Mr. Bashir appeared to her right and took her arm. His too white teeth gleamed in the dark. “Welcome, my dear Ms. Lovell. You are just in time.”
A hooded man gripped her other arm. Ms. Lovell opened and closed her mouth like a fish caught in the net. They brought her to the front of the room, where the statue with its eight arms stood.
Ms. Lovell whimpered. “I only came to buy a car.”
Laughter rippled among the shadows. Mr. Bashir held her face with his rough, callused palms. “Look,” he said, gently turning her towards the idol.
Ms. Lovell screamed, even as eight scaly arms snaked around her body. The last thought she had before the gaping maw of teeth claimed her was dandy or not, Mr. Bashir could sure do without eating too much knackwurst.
Come join the fun. Show us what you’ve got. You’re a writer, aren’t you? 😉