It must be difficult to moderate even the moderate portions of the English language.
The language is tricky to read because words often have different meanings and sounds between the first and second times they are read. This tends to make even some of our most distinguished words difficult to distinguish. Often, the buffet of pronunciations buffets and torments me.
If reading content makes you content, then you should know that homographs are words that are spelled the same but have different meanings, while heteronyms are words that are spelled the same but have different meanings and pronunciations.
I was thinking about this while studying my profile in the mirror today for a minute, so I decided to profile a few of these words in a short (some might even say minute) story. I have yet to perfect my writing skills so that I can write the perfect story, though, so I hope that my subject matter here does not subject you to boredom.
The other night while I was getting set to type about types of words I like (and I was choosing from a font of fonts), I heard my phone ring. I set my glasses down near my set of matching glasses (which had left a ring on my table) and then tabled my thoughts.
“Hello,” I said as I held the phone close and walked over to close the door.
It was my friend Bill, who is well-known for his attribute to always attribute dinner bills to other guests. He is a good guy, though, and we had a ball when we took our wives to that ball and Bill brought a ball with him.
A gardener, Bill has likes to plant plants outside the plant. It makes sense, though, because he also helped with building that building. His wife, who is an accomplished sewer, even helped Bill install the sewer line.
On this evening Bill had been painting a painting (his main recreation is the recreation of famous scenes) and evening out his paints, and he wondered what was on my agenda.
“What’s his agenda here?” I thought to myself, “He usually just wants to lounge down at the hotel lounge.”
“We could pool our money and go to play pool, or maybe go down to the pool,” I suggested. Bill, who is English, is really good at pool because he can put some good English on his shots, at least when he’s not drinking shots.
“Let’s think outside of the box and check out some boxing instead; I heard the champ is writing some checks his mouth can’t cash,” he replied.
“Fine, but let’s leave that horse’s behind Ray behind,” I said. “He’s no ray of sunshine. The last time we rode with him that jerk jerked the car around while I was eating jerky!” Ray, I should point out, is a former NFL Pro Bowler who today is a pro bowler.
So, I hummed a few notes of a song that was stuck in my head, wrote a note to my family, left the note near a box of matches, and went with Bill to the match.
The first fighter introduced was the underdog who had been dogged by injuries for a few months and looked dog-tired.
Seconds later, the second fighter was introduced. The champ looked to be about 10 pounds heavier than the underdog, and Bill thought he would pound him so he bet 50 pounds on the fight!
As the left-handed challenger was acting like a hot dog while warming up, I left Bill to go buy a hot dog. When the vendor passed out hot dogs, though, my life suddenly changed when the challenger passed out.
I then heard the ring announcer state that the state required everyone to go home because the challenger was in no state to fight. This upset the crowd, and I was worried that the people around me might upset the hot dog cart.
“I will battle the champ,” I announced loudly as I considered where my will was. I was somewhat conflicted over joining the conflict, but felt like a rock star as I made my way to the ring and felt the whole arena rock back and forth with excitement.
I took off my ring, danced around the ring a few times and then was ready to box a round. The next thing I knew, I was shaking hands with the referee, who wore a tiny bow tie, and then I gave a tiny bow to the crowd.
While I was determining how to conduct myself in the battle, the bell rang and the conduct of the champ changed considerably. He looked mean, if you know what I mean. In fact, it was easy to see that he was determined to use this invalid fight as an opportunity to turn me into an invalid!
As he wound up to punch me into the end of next week, I wondered what kind of wound I would end up with. I vividly recall watching him wind up, and then the next thing I knew I could feel the wind as I flew across the ring. He had punched my gum into my lower gum and I felt a tear in my upper lip as I started to tear up.
I came to rest on the mat, and while my mouth hurt, the rest of my body didn’t feel too bad. I swear I could smell incense for a moment, but as I gathered myself back together I could see that the champ was incensed.
I also saw the crowd getting ready to produce some produce to throw at me, so I decided I better give my fans in the first row a good row after all. I needed to rebel like a rebel and take the fight to the champ!
It was then that I based my plan on knocking the champ off of his base by hitting him like a bass drum so that he would feel like a bass out of water. While the champ expected me to get up slowly and deliberately, I instead decided to spring up like a frog hopping in the spring, and I deliberately jumped right into him.
You might have guessed that my plan was a hit with the crowd, and I hit the champ with all of my might as I crowded into him. I gave him a left and a right, and then I left right away so that he could not punch me back. I knew from the champ’s resume that he would resume his wild attacks to try to finish me off, so I struck quickly and then tried to desert him as if he was alone in the desert. I knew my attack would affect him, and the champ’s affect changed considerably.
As he came toward me, time seemed to stand still as I headed him off and hit him as hard as I could in the head one last time. The champ practically dove to the ground, while I jumped into the air like a dove. It is no lie to say that I was thrilled to see him lie on the mat! I had defeated the champ with a skillful plan and a bit of luck, and I was champing at the bit to celebrate.
I grabbed my phone, logged in by typing #111 and then jumped onto Twitter and typed in “I’m #1 #champ.”