She was hiding in the boscage at the edge of the playing field, waiting for the one boy who stood out among the hobbledehoys in her grade, bright-eyed Dominic, the one who, though always flippant with the teachers, never haggled over the price of a blow-job, but simply gave her more than she asked, every time.
The Wanenei tribe, who practice a form of heliolatry, have delightfully elaborate funerals: to defeat the machinations of the gods of Darkness and insure eternal Light to the dead, they distract the gods by dancing the maxixe, while quietly loading the bier into a rocket which they shoot directly into the sun.
Needing some surcease from the endless sorting of his mother's bibelots, Henry walked to the window to gaze out at the colubrine chain of the distant mountains, and the sight of that range of connected mountain peaks made him feel even more strongly the loneliness of being the sole beneficiary of her estate.
Henry's relationship with his mother was dominated by a lacuna, the result of her periodically disappearing, for months at a time, to some mysterious, transmontane life; when she died, he began to clean out the Augean stable she'd left him (a large house cluttered floor-to-ceiling with detritus accumulated over a lifetime), hoping, by this sedulous project, to finally learn who she had been during those absences on the other side of the mountain.
My husband had been traveling all through the windy night when at last I saw him crossing the snowy hill from the deer-shed, struggling a bit to hawl his considerable avoirdupois over the sastrugi; I smiled as he stomped in and doffed his fur-trimmed coat and hat, for I could see that he was eager to resume his quiet, bookish life until the next Christmas season would call him back to action.
Among the gallimaufry of single-celled organisms in my drop of pond water, I spotted one leviathan, a beautiful and remarkably large heliozoan, drifting through the crowd with apparent savoir-faire, while many smaller animalcules piffled their energy darting this way and that around it.
Whereas Ms. Clay has demonstrated an ability to dissertate on the structure of the nuclear envelope beyond the limits of anyone else's understanding; and whereas our fine institution has instilled in her not only knowledge but also wisdom and gravitas; we, her thesis committee, do hereby homologate her and distinguish her from the hoi polloi with the title of "Doctor."
Grandmother is very earnest about her peculiar hobbyhorse: she goes on at length about which elves are enchorial to the Berkshires, and, to the family's embarrassment, asseverates that she has planted particular flowers in her garden as a douceur for the fairies who visit it at dawn each day.
I do not find buying window treatments exhilarating, but to forfend marital harmony, I recently did just that; the stalking horse served its purpose, my wife being so delighted with the new curtains she never even thought to ask what I was paying to have that beautiful lunette installed in the entry hall!
When it comes to marriage, dear girl, you will want a good-looking and a docile man - oh, and a fashionable one, too - not some old horse-and-buggy fellow; husbands really are not so fungible as you seem to think, no more than, say, dogs: why, if your dear little terrier were run over by a charabanc, surely you wouldn't replace him with just any dog off the street!
I am sad to say that I was unable to perform the Avena Sativa Rite last night, as I was billeted with a deranged non-believer who took offense at my preparing the sacerdotal porridge, snatched the holy spurtle, and began to whack me with it, shouting, in an excessively monophthongal dialect, "Ah'll spurtle you, Ah will!" and, as if that weren't enough, went on to comment on the phthongality of my own dismayed exclamations.
It was unclear which was more truculent, the bull or the matador's unreachable itch, but, even as my voluble uncle continued to chatter on about the matador's fame, a frisson passed through the crowd, for the bull had come forward to scratch the man's acnestis with blood-letting vigor.
In spite of Alfred's gregarious personality, he does not have much luck on dates: objects of his affection tend to be put off by his insistently probing questions, mistakenly conflating his desire for luculent explanations with an unattractively manichean refusal to accept nuance or subtlety.
I was deep in creative thought, writing an encomium for the latest production of Tosca, when my roommate, that loquacious tomnoddy, barged into our room, turned on the light, and interrupted me with complaints, even going so far as to call me byronic - as if I were the only person who likes to sit in the dark contemplating tragic opera in my underwear!
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