Wiston Papers

What's in a Word?

“Boys, our specials today are pejerrey and polynee,” smiled our waitress, Beverly, in her best fibranne. “Can I tempt you?”

“Oh,” groaned John. “Just my usual cappuccino for me,” as he leaned back uneasily in his chair.  “I’m afraid the nudiustertian adventure at the rijsttafel buffet has left me with an unsettled ingulvies.

“I noticed that you lacked your usual schwarmerei today,”  I replied  sensing a guetapens.”

“Beverly, I don’t want to be  a laodicean so bring me your finest affogato.”

“Yeah, that’s my guerdon,” John repined.  “We cymotrichous types are more susceptible to saccharolytic distress than other folk you know.”

“Really,” I smirked. “It seems more like a pococurante who lacks prospicience.”

“I really must express demarche, he asserted.  “The gastrointestinal malaise may be ephemeral but my self-esteem is frangible.”

“Well, John, your autochthonous attitude is hardly  eudaemonic,” I retorted.

“And your affectation is not salubrious,” John raised his voice and leaned forward minaciously.”

“Mendacity,” I contravened and rose.

We gorgonized at each other then both began to cachinnate.

“Here’s the assessment and I expect your usual perquisite,”  Beverly smiled.  

“And I liked the Scripps Spelling Bee, too.”

Steve Coon

June 03, 2012