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The Prompt:  Time to confess: tell us about a time when you used a word whose meaning you didn’t actually know (or were very wrong about, in retrospect) 

Naturally, I was reminded of the time my dear neighbor, Judy ByerMyer, dropped by for a visit.

The Day Judy ByerMyer Dropped By

“Gosh I’m hungry!  I could sure go for some Colonial Sanders right about now.” Judy ByerMyer announced.

“Didn’t you have any breakfast, Judy?”

“Are you kidding? I slept in and then Katie couldn’t find her backpack, and then my car almost did-dint start and I could feel a migrate headache coming on and . . . ”

As Judy prattled on, I began to feel a little migrate headache-ish myself.

“. . . so anyways, I says to Katie,  ‘Katie, honey,  did you look under your bed for your backpack?’ sense it could have been there for all intensive purposes. But guess where she found it, Linda?”

“I looked at the clock: 8:35 a.m.  Judy would stay all morning if I didn’t think of a way to get rid of her.  I was mulling over ways to covertly set the house on fire when I realized Judy was trying to get my attention.

“Yoo-hoo!  Earth to Linda!  I said, guess where she found it?”

“Where?”

No guess!

“I give up, Judy.  Where?”

“Right on the hook!  It was supposably there the whole time!  Judy laughed like she was auditioning for a sitcom laugh track.  “Oh and wait til I tell you about what happened yesterday when we bolth got super flustrated because we could find her sweater anywhere and . . . ”

I looked at the clock again. One minute had gone by.  No force in the universe could slow down the passage of time quite like Judy ByerMyer. I had to think of a way to get rid of her.  But how?

” . . . so anyways we looked under her bed and we looked behind the couch and we looked  . . .”

I was beseeching the gods for an earthquake or at the very least a tidal wave, when there was a horrendous crash through the kitchen ceiling. When the dust settled Judy ByerMyer lay unconscious on my kitchen floor, knocked out cold by a well-timed meteorite. I was horrified and filled with guilt.  So much so that when Judy momentarily came to I confessed that I had beseeched the gods to do it.

“Never misunderestimate the power of the gods.” Judy ByerMyer said and added, “I sure hope I don’t go into a comma.”

 

 

Until next time . . . I love you

 

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Dictionary, Shmictionary.