8 SETS OF VOCAB LATER

I think I've lost the will to live. But you know what, that's totally fine, because in a few short weeks, somewhere in the United States there are going to be 18-year-old girls and boys looking down at their Vocabulary Contest questions, perplexed and nonplussed, thinking to themselves ... "WTMotherOfMaryF???!!!"

And that makes me happy. So happy.

Read and weep.

No, seriously, get out the Kleenex. They pay me to write this crap.

Set 1:
Superman's fortress seems impregnable to his vacuous female villains, but in fact Superman is so lonely that he would acquiesce to any salacious lady who jumped into his herculean arms – he is the nonpareil of indiscretion! Batman, on the other hand, can afford to be terse while on the job, because his gregarious alter ego Bruce Wayne carouses around Gotham City all day long. Superman's day job seems deplorable by comparison; while Clark Kent languishes over Lois Lane in a stagnant cubicle, the complacent Bruce Wayne rearranges paperweights in his opulent high-rise apartment. Batman is sinuous and resourceful while Superman has the power to aviate – Batman's adroit fighting techniques help to make up for his lack of extraterrestrial strength. These two superhero caricatures have often been pitted against each other in arguments between comic book nerds, and these contentions tend to exacerbate the always strained relations between aficionados – however, the superheroes themselves will always be comrades in the world of vigilante crime fighting.

Set 2:
The mad scientist wore a jocular grin as he surveyed his ingenious creation: a gargantuan killer bunny with malevolent eyes, and large fangs obviously meant to imbibe human blood.

"Igor, you travesty of an assistant, throw the switch,” the scientist said as he writhed in anticipation – as Igor hobbled tentatively over to the ominous lever, the tension in the air became palpable. Suddenly Igor had an epiphany, and a penitent look came over his face: “No, Master,” Igor said arduously, “I cannot bring myself to loose this depraved creation on New Jersey – it would be deleterious to too many innocent people.” With a grotesque laugh, the mad scientist replied, “Your sedition makes no difference now, for my killer bunny shall soon awaken and wreak devastation upon those Jersey motorists who have so often nauseated me with their imbecilic driving!” The demented scientist flipped the switch and began to giggle as his giant bunny twitched and sizzled – it rose, blinked and yawned lethargically, and then formerly sedentary bunny sprang forward with alacrity and ate its impetuous creator in a single swallow.

Set 3 [Trevor helped with this one]:
Aloysius J. Albertson noticed one day as he was meandering towards his job at the local toilet seat factory that the road had become obfuscated and that the formerly innocuous path now seemed to be wilderness – disquieted, the intrepid Aloysius nonetheless pressed on. After just a few minutes, Aloysius encountered a rambunctious bear with a penchant for picnic baskets and an eye for bowler hats ... as the formidable bear pressed its arsine nose into Aloysius' lunch box, he grumbled, “Your lack of sandwiches, sir, is egregious.” Though deterred by the lack of sandwiches, the bear pillaged the lunch pail and escaped abruptly; meanwhile, Aloysius stood stunned, trying to comprehend the full scientific ramification of a talking bear – all the other bears he had encountered had been taciturn. Aloysius was now not only lost, but bereft of any sustenance – he spontaneously decided to following the talking bear in the bowler hat and bow tie, both to verify its existence and to inquire about the way out of the woods. Aloysius followed the loquacious bear, hoping his human odor was not too conspicuous to the bear's olfactory sense ... soon he stumbled into a clearing, where the bear was sitting at a picnic table: “Here, you eat this,” the bear said to Aloysius, “I'm not partial to liverwurst.”

Set 4:
The debonair and industrious, albeit superficial James Bond once again found himself stuck in the lair of an unctuous enemy – he wondered how he was going to extricate himself as the villain launched into another diatribe. “Have a morsel of roast peacock, Mr. Bond,” the gluttonous evildoer said, motioning to a scantily-dressed servant; “I'd like to regale you with my infallible plan for world domination while you eat.” Bond sighed with ennui as the loathsome villain launched into a florid speech outlining the details of his plan – while the villain blathered on, Bond plotted an escape using his fork as a weapon and his beguiling good looks as a distraction. Bond winked at the female guards and they all swooned simultaneously, leaving the corpulent villain without protection – Bond brandished his fork and demanded to know how to terminate the evil plan. “What, did you not hear me the first time?” the evil villain said scurrilously, “All you have to do is press that red button over there labeled “Stop mayhem!”; Bond pressed the button and with that, he emerged from the ludicrous crisis unscathed.

Set 5:
The notorious cat burglar perused the museum's nondescript facade; though the security system was daunting, he thought he saw a way in. As he began his surreptious climb to the roof, the devious burglar chuckled to himself: what a coup it would be, how the other theives would extol him, if he could contrive to infiltrate the building! After he reached the zenith of his climb, the burglar assailed the skylight with his high-tech equipment: soon he was lowering himself into a hall filled with copius amounts of invaluable treasure – he was elated by the sight. The thief was positively stupified as his desire for historical objects was insatiable – he was struck dumb by the plentitude of Egyptian artifacts, the ornate Fabrige eggs, and the beautifully nuanced paintings. Though the hall was resplendant, the obdurate burglar still did not see the object he was seeking; so he turned away with a wistful sigh and made a beeline for the bathroom; and there, on the forlorn counter, was the object of his desire: exasperated, the thief exclaimed, “Finally! There's my cell phone!”

Set 6:
The turgid opera singer grumbled as the discomfited conductor beseeched the orchestra to follow him – the opera singer petulantly rearranged her viking horns and querulously asked when she would be having lunch. The indolent soprano sighed, doffed her helmet and onerous cape, and motioned to her inept assistant: “Don't tell Maestro,” she whispered, “Get me a ham sandwich, and don't forget to use your discretion!” After the soprano dispatched her assistant, the mercurial conductor interjected a command into the soprano's idle daydream: “OK, let's try this God forsaken, odious aria one more time!” The soprano's nonchalant assistant returned with a ham sandwich as the virtuoso warbled; the soprano motioned for the assistant to toss the illicit sandwich to her while the conductor stopped to upbraid the orchestra. The assistant grudgingly raised her arm and tossed the sandwich – unfortunately, the projectile took an oblique course and landed, not in the soprano's hand, but the bell of a nearby tuba; dumbfounded, the conductor put down his baton and said, “That's it. Let's adjourn for lunch.”

Set 7:
Moe the Miller was so disgruntled with the pernicious Sheriff of Nottingham that he decided he no longer wanted to be a reputable member of society; instead, he would take up the vocation of an outlaw and join the forest utopia Robin Hood was trying to build. So Moe dressed up in his most vivacious and verdant attire, and ebulliently set off into Sherwood Forest with his trusty bow and arrow – oblivious to any danger, Moe traversed the forest with glee. Unexpectedly, a lithe, grinning man with an imperious stance dropped from the nearest tree ... this strangely-dressed maverick could only be the roguish, magnanimous Robin Hood! Moe introduced himself, and said, “Robin Hood, I want to eschew civilized life and come be a bandit for justice!” -- the ribald Robin Hood looked the rotund Moe over with a modicum of skepticism, and stared at him appraisingly. “Ah, what the heck,” Robin said finally, clapping Moe on the back with warm camaraderie, “we can always use another libertarian to assist in our manifold caprices!” -- and with that, the ecstatic Moe squealed and fainted dead away.

and finally, Ladies and gentlemen, Set 8:
Mary was somewhat perturbed when she received an airmail package from an ambiguous address somewhere in Indonesia: she opened it, and inside was a decrepit black mask with a visage that discomfited her. There was also a cryptic note: “Mary, I know I was pretty incoherent when we broke up, and you probably thought I was hysterical when I moved to Jakarta – well, I hope you don't think it's impetuous of me, but I got you a reconciliation gift ... Love, Andy.” Though she had a few misgivings, Mary decided to hang the lurid mask up in her guest bathroom; she forgot about it completely until a week later she found her favorite blouse torn to shreds in front of the malignant mask ... Surely, Mary thought, Andy wouldn't have the audacity to send me a piece of occult paraphernalia? Just in case, Mary decided to visit her local vindictive Jakartan mask expert, a woman who had a surfeit of arcane objects; Mary called and asked the expert about her problem: “Yes, my mask seems to have a propensity for harm – as I surmise from the way it destroyed my favorite blouse.” The expert paused a moment to assess the situation; “Do you feel enmity manifesting itself in the mask?” the expert asked -- “or was the damaged blouse perhaps caused by your fractious new puppy, Mary?”: Mary paused, flabbergasted, and then blushed. “Oh. Right, then.”

Notice that the eighth and final composition of the evening pretty much lacks any sort of coherency or respect for the rules of English grammar.