Wordmonger

lemon_meringue_wordmonger.jpg
wordmonger
  1. a writer or speaker who uses words pretentiously or with careless disregard for meaning.

Evan Woodsley sprinted toward the glass door, in an attempt to block Evelyn from leaving the office.

“Move,” she screamed. “Now, Evan Allister Woodsley!”

“Evie, you can’t quit, we need you,” he reasoned, trying to remain calm, while still blocking her exit. “Ever since you’ve gotten here, our sales have been up. People love Richard now–one person in the focus group last month actually used the word “likable” during the survey. That has never happened!”

“Evan…”

She had that threatening tone in her voice, similar to that time they fought over the last slice of Grandma Pea’s lemon meringue and she punched him in his throat. She had gotten the last slice, a lecture, and a spanking from their mother.

But that was 15 years ago, and surely–

Evelyn’s left hook came toward Evan’s throat, but this time he was ready. He blocked with his right and pushed her away from the door with his left, but not before she had grabbed his tie, dragging him to the ground with her.

She grabbed a patch of his hair as he pinched her arm. The siblings howled.

“You lied to me about this job,” she yelled, as they wrestled in the floor.

“You wouldn’t have taken it otherwise,” he yelled back, fighting to get free.

“I should have never believed you, you boldfaced liar–”

“Takes one to no one,” Evan shot back. “Like the time you lied about our dog stealing my GI Joe action figure when you melted him in the microwave!”

“That was 20 years ago and it was for the sake of science! Let it go!”

“Let it –”

Evan was interrupted by someone loudly clearing her throat. Both siblings stopped and noticed Amanda Christie, the HR director, standing in their office, staring down at them in disdain.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, holding one of the heels Evelyn had lost in the skirmish, “but I don’t want to hear anything about lawsuits. I just came down because we got wind of Richard being invited to Good Morning, Chicago and I thought I’d pass the word along so he doesn’t make a fool of himself tomorrow.”

Amanda set the shoe down on Evelyn’s desk, gave them both a look that reminded them of their mother and silently left the office.

The two released each other and rose, checking themselves for blood.

“So…can you put something together real quick for that wordmonger of ours, or are you going to let him go out there and make a fool of us all,” Evan asked, checking his scalp for bald patches.

Evelyn shot him a dirty look.

“I’ll write out some talking points for tomorrow, but you had better find that man another speech writer by the end of this week, Evan. I’m serious about that.”

He straightened his tie.

“Thank you, Evelyn; I knew you were the woman for this job.”

Evan turned to leave.

“Hey Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I melted Joe and lied about it.”

Evan looked down, still mourning the loss.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh, “I forgive you. Besides, my therapist has been saying I should let that go… Let’s just call it even.”

 

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