vicissitude. v, i, c, i, s, s, i, t, u, d, e. vicissitude. Doctor Sanchez stood silent as he studied Kenny's lab work. He cleared his throat. "Drugs are supposed to treat illnesses," the doctor said taking off his glasses. "Not the vicissitudes of living." Kenny looked down. "But Doc! The headaches. They're getting bad." The doctor looked at the chart again. "Kenny. Kenny. Then why do you have horse tranquilizers in your blood work? What's the Viagra for? Cocaine?" Kenny's eyes met the doctors, tears running down his cheeks. "Headaches Doc. Headaches."

/vɪˈsɪs ɪˌtud/

noun. 1 a irregular change. b revolution. c mutation. 2 a regular change or succession from one thing to another. b alternation. c mutual succession. d interchange.

Doctor Sanchez stood silent as he studied Kenny’s lab work. He cleared his throat. “Drugs are supposed to treat illnesses,” the doctor said taking off his glasses. “Not the vicissitudes of living.” Kenny looked down. “But Doc! The headaches. They’re getting bad.” The doctor looked at the chart again. “Kenny. Kenny. Then why do you have horse tranquilizers in your blood work? What’s the Viagra for? Cocaine?” Kenny’s eyes met the doctors, tears running down his cheeks. “Headaches Doc. Headaches.”

December 9

offal

offal. o, f, f, a, l. offal. Wilson was a connoisseur of food, both foreign and domestic. His was a proclivity towards meat, and he spent the lunch hour diving deeper and deeper into the bowels of the city to seek it out. The further he went, the more his fetish grew. More bizarre, more obscure. The long lunches did not go unnoticed by his colleagues. Not long after his boss, whom he considered a friend, confronted him. He demanded to know where Wilson went. "Is it drugs?" he said. "Are you hooked on the crack rock?" Wilson laughed. "No, no," Wilson said. "Don't be silly. I'll take you if really want to know. But no judgment." So Michael and Wilson trekked to a dark alley of the Hmong ghetto. They climbed to the top floor of a dirty building. Wilson knocked three times. The door opened, chain snapping. "Who dat?" the guy demanded in a burley voice. Wilson leaned in and whispered: "Ku n-guy." The door shut, the chain rattled, and then opened again. A pervasive smell of offal gripped Michael by the throat. "What is this place," Michael gagged. But Wilson didn't answer. He was high on the sweet, sweet smell of the Sautéed flesh of silverback gorilla. He turned to Michael. "Let's eat!"

/ˈɔ fəl/

noun. 1 the rejected or waste parts of a butchered animal. 2 a a dead body. b carrion. 3 a that which is thrown away as worthless or unfit for use. b refuse. c rubbish.

Wilson was a connoisseur of food, both foreign and domestic. His was a proclivity towards meat, and he spent the lunch hour diving deeper and deeper into the bowels of the city to seek it out. The further he went, the more his fetish grew. More bizarre, more obscure. The long lunches did not go unnoticed by his colleagues. Not long after his boss, whom he considered a friend, confronted him. He demanded to know where Wilson went. “Is it drugs?” he said. “Are you hooked on the crack rock?” Wilson laughed. “No, no,” Wilson said. “Don’t be silly. I’ll take you if really want to know. But no judgment.” So Michael and Wilson trekked to a dark alley of the Hmong ghetto. They climbed to the top floor of a dirty building. Wilson knocked three times. The door opened, chain snapping. “Who dat?” the guy demanded in a burley voice. Wilson leaned in and whispered: “Ku n-guy.” The door shut, the chain rattled, and then opened again. A pervasive smell of offal gripped Michael by the throat. “What is this place,” Michael gagged. But Wilson didn’t answer. He was high on the sweet, sweet smell of the Sautéed flesh of silverback gorilla. He turned to Michael. “Let’s eat!”