A Grave Situation

Note: This story was a contest entry for the "Hawk's Vocabulary Extravaganza." To view the contest rules, click on Contest Rules:

Rules:

You must use 3 of the 10 words on the vocabulary list each month
Submissions must be made by midnight EST on the last day of the month
Short stories should be 500 to 1,000 words
Poetry must be at least 25 lines long
Only one story and one poetry item can be submitted. You can submit one of each.
You are allowed to edit your piece all the way up to the end of the month
Submissions do not have to be new, but they do need to be original and fit all other rules
Submissions should be presented with the bitem format
All submissions should be rated lower than 18+
A word count is not required, but definitely appreciated

Most of all, have fun and be creative. Judging will be centered around how seamless you insert the words into your piece and the correct usage, and of course a great story/theme helps too!

Vocabulary list for March 2011:

Coeval                    Onomatopoeia
Nosology                    Lychnobite
Catatonic                    Interpolate
Pyknic                    Haimish
Churlish                    Purport

(item ID 1706859)

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A Grave Situation

By Indelibleink

The man paused a moment to wipe his brow, and noticed another man, shovel in hand, approaching. He said nothing, and resumed his digging until the stranger was but a few feet away. This time he eyed the man much more thoroughly: same age as he perhaps, with a short, stocky build - muscular, and clean cut. 

"You the new guy they promised me?"

The stranger smiled. "I'm not sure what all they promised you, but I'm the new grave digger, if that's what you're referring to." He then dropped his shovel and extended his right hand. "The name's Buzz."

The other man smiled, and shook the new guy's hand. "Onomatopoeia."

Buzz winced. "Onomono-what-o? Hope you have a nickname I can call you instead of that monstrosity..."

The man now known as Onomono-what-o laughed. "No, that's not my name; it's a word to describe your name, which is..."

Buzz waved off the forthcoming explanation. "No matter, friend. If you don't mind, just what do you go by?"

"Digger. It's a nickname, for obvious reasons."

"So far, not much around here has been obvious to me."

Digger once again eyed the man - this time a bit more suspiciously. "Well, Buzz, you seem to be quite the pyknic to me. You and I are pretty coeval, as a matter of fact..."

Buzz grabbed Digger's shoulder. "Now listen here, pal: Maybe I don't think you're any picnic either. Not only that, but just because you're evil don't go implying I'm any co-conspirator to your evilness, either."

Digger was quickly coming to the conclusion that Buzz was a bit more on the haimish side than he'd expected. "Buzz, you misunderstand what I'm saying. I'm not insulting you at all; you're simply misunderstanding what I'm saying." Digger looked up at the proximity of the afternoon sun. "But if we don't get back to digging - but soon - we'll both be looking for work. There's a bunch of funerals coming up soon due to a rash of deaths caused by some unknown diseases. In fact, I hear that trying to classify the cause of death has been a nosological nightmare for the local medical profession."

"Doesn't sound so logical to me, either."

Digger stopped mid-dig to look at Buzz after the last statement. It was rapidly becoming necessary to interpolate what Buzz was saying in order to go back and derive any sense from it.

"Well, in any case, we better get busy before it gets dark."

Buzz looked up from his digging. "Well, for whatever it's worth, I worked for years on the night shift. So, if you need help after it gets dark, it's no problem for me."

Digger mumbled to himself, "Well, whaddya know...a lychnobite."

That was pretty much his final thought, as he soon felt the back of Buzz's shovel crash down on his head, Digger fell into the nearly completed grave, and Buzz then stood over his former co-worker, speaking as he sprinkled dirt over the cemetery's latest admission.

"A toothless dog, a toothless dog? Lick-no-bite? That's about the worst insult a man can have, Digger. Now, I don't purport to be no big authority on the matter of vocabulary, and you may think it rather churlish of me to react in the manner I did. But consider this, Digger: If you'd just been a little nicer, you wouldn't be laying down there with that big old catatonic look on your face, now would you?"

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Words: 576