Cacozelia

Salvor-Hardon

A kiss is still a kiss
Joined
Jun 20, 2004
Posts
15,669
I had an idea. Just an exercise of sorts, part game, part challenge, pure silliness. I had hoped it would be a story to be posted, but I liked to open it up to the other minds of this illustrious group.

I wrote a beginning, just the first page or so, the goal of which was to use as many under used, forgotten or esoteric words as possible. The large portion of the ones I've found so far coming from Greg Ross at futilitycloset.com and the others coming from The Phrontistery at http://phrontistery.info/clw1.html

And so without further ado I give you .... Cacozelia
 
CACOZELIA​

Her basorexia and vernalagnia gnawed at her, making her restless. Typically she more afflicted with dysania, but today such indulgence could not be afforded. She pondered a moment, debating between the virtues of mageira or the vice of finding an amatorculist. Neither had real appeal, and so she threw on a sundress to take a walk through the park. Passing by a mirror, she paused to take a look, noticing that the cut of the halter gave her a rather bathycolpian appearance. The crisp white cotton was so different from her more modest black work attire; no one would guess she was a saulie. There were days when she thought that her career bordered on being a nihilarian, but she was extremely gifted, bringing comfort to the mourning. However she often had to remind herself that life had to be lived while it was available. Today, living meant sharing that life, even if only briefly.

The cadence of her flip-flops was barely discernable, her gait a deliberate lentissimo. Between her apartment and the park, a crew of hard hatted men practiced their antivitruvian craft, and as she passed they called out to the xanthocomic muse of their apodyopsis. She wondered if they considered themselves ad hoc agonarchs to the beauty pageants of unwitting passerby’s, and giggled as she envisioned garnering the preantepenultimate position. The dasypygal foreman shouted an amandation for the workers to return to the demolition. She suspected his dyscallignia was the root of his apanthropinization, focusing his mind more on the work at hand and less on the people around him. A wicked thought crossed her mind, and she wanted a brabeum for the industrious crew. True to stereotype they ecstasiated as she walked over the vent gate of the subway and her dress elevated above her ass.

Her reverie in exhibitionism distracted her from the route and she found herself in front of the cathedral she loathed. For a time she was the parnel of a potvaliant martext. It was her most imparlibidinous relationship, and she knew it was the taboo that attracted her more so than him as a paramour. He was a misologist and ambisinister to boot, unable to diffibulate even her simplest frocks. The last time she saw him, they had been caught in flagrante delicto by a bishop though Father Nelson’s agrexophrenia left her wholly unsatisfied. The hieromachy that ensued was priceless, making her laugh even as she scurried from the altar naked. He had cared for her either, merely assuaging his torschlusspanik with the shunamitism she could give him. She hurried past, losing her flip flops to the urgency of escape. Becoming a nelipot unexpectedly was not infandous, she preferred to be discalced, and the park was just two more blocks away, but she would have to move her pedicure appointment up to the weekend.

The cool grass was a comfort from the warming pavement, and she soon found a perch on the limb of a tree near the lake edge. She watched the hot dog vendor’s dactylconomy, enumerating the options to the famelicose tourist. Enjoying the naiveté of the visitor, she was suddenly knocked from her arboreal settee. The curglaff of invading the early vernal ichthyarchy made her scream, every bit as much as the surprise.

“FUCK!” she screamed emerging from the surface like a stunned ephydriad. Standing near where she once sat, was a man examining a lignatile grouping of leaves. He snapped to look, her vulgarity commanding his attention.
 
Last edited:
I had an idea. Just an exercise of sorts, part game, part challenge, pure silliness. I had hoped it would be a story to be posted, but I liked to open it up to the other minds of this illustrious group.

I wrote a beginning, just the first page or so, the goal of which was to use as many under used, forgotten or esoteric words as possible. The large portion of the ones I've found so far coming from Greg Ross at futilitycloset.com and the others coming from The Phrontistery at http://phrontistery.info/clw1.html

And so without further ado I give you .... Cacozelia

Oh, that's one of my very favorite websites: Phrontistery :cathappy:
 
:kiss::kiss::kiss::kiss:

Keep this up and I'll have a accurately spelled and grammatically correct (mostly) story that is completely and utterly unreadable :D:D:D

If I cut and paste your little epic and prepare myself with a thesaurus and a dictionary to look up all those redlined words...
 
Oh, I don't know. Maybe it would depend on what those guys yelled as she walked by. :catgrin:

In my head it was the cliche "hey baby! look at that ass! Yowsers nice rack sweet thang" etc. Which is too pedestrian and stereotypical so I skipped over it.

:D
 
I sent this site to my daughter. She love words and languages. Thanks!
 
Back
Top