In an effort to not appear lily-livered, George lifted the half-dead skunk with his bare hands and held it aloft. The younger girls squealed with horror and backed away while some of the more daring boys came so close as if to touch it. Things were going better than George had planned, until one stupid kid poked the skunk’s face with a stick and it stirred. And that was the moment George realized that just because someone bet you, it wasn’t a good enough reason to do something you already knew was stupid.
“You wouldn’t dare” She said. She cast a glance around, looking for something to steady her shaking hands. She couldn’t believe this was happening, especially now. What would she do if Isaac told people the rumors were true?
“I will delate you in front of all your ‘so called friends’ tomorrow night if you do not listen to reason.” He said.
But she didn’t want to give in to Isaac; he always saw things from a tainted perspective. There was no way she was letting him ruin everything she’d worked so hard for. Inching across the table, her hands grasped a candlestick. It was now or never.
Samuel was used to being in charge. He had come to expect that people didn’t question his authority. He was right. He was always right. After all, who had guided them all these years? Who had fought for their rights? Who had been entrusted with their overall well-being and purpose? Samuel knew he had done a good job, no, an excellent job. But this was simply too much. For them to turn their back and demand something so foul; it was devastating. Samuel knew he would have to show them the error of their ways. What good could come of an acephalous group?
\ ey-SEF-uh-luhs \ , adjective;
“Come on,” He said. “Please? You know we can’t do this without you.”
But Rachel, ever the recusant minion, merely shook her head and continued scribbling in her Precious Moments notebook she carried around incessantly.
“Michael, we can perform without her, we don’t need a bunny for a magic show, that would be, uh, well, cliche!” Sarah said.
“It’s not cliche, it’s a trademark. It’s expected!” He said. “What kind of magician doesn’t pull a bunny out of a hat?”
“Relax, I’ll just make one out of cardboard or something.” Sarah said.
“It’s not the same.” He said. Michael pulled off his hat and walked away.
\ REK-yuh-zuhnt \ , adjective;