Poor Dalton

It is a Quilly day. Time to take Quilly’s three words for the day and write a story.Today we have three words from Quilly and one from the Fortress Word Vault. Click on the word for a definition: ambition; pessundate & operiment plus one other amarulence

Dalton Soakum was not a man of great ambition. He didn’t want to get filthy rich he just wanted to make what he considered a reasonable living off the buildings he owned. He didn’t feel up to having them repaired so he charged low rents. He thought of this as a nice thing to do. So a faucet didn’t work here or there and some toilets didn’t flush. So some of the heating systems barely gave heat. So a little plaster was falling down. So there were a few rats. What did they expect for the prices he charged ? Penthouses?
Everything was going well until the editor of the Daily Globe started his crusade. Now people looked at him like some sort of villain and even worse some tenants were withholding their rent until improvements were made. He could pay off building inspectors but not judges. Even some of his building inspectors had told him they might have to make a real inspection under pressure from the Globe.
His lawyers had tried to put an operiment on the articles but they had no success. If the articles continued they would pessundate his entire kingdom.
So it was with great amarulence he sat late at night working on a bomb.
If he hadn’t been such a hitonious shot the editor would be dead. Life would be mellifluous just as it was before the articles.
But after tonight there would be no Globe. Just the idea of no Globe filled his head with ebullient thoughts. There would be no paladin riding in at the last minute to save the paper. And if he was lucky the intransigent editor would be in the office when the bomb went off. The editor so deserved to die because of his opprobrious conduct toward poor Dalton. The editor’s prolix on Dalton was unforgivable. He was going to pay.
At the thought of this Dalton smashed his hand down on the table in glee.
The last thing he saw was the bomb falling toward the floor. Then Dalton and his house were no more.
Just another mystery the incompetent police chief would never solve.

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

And of course with Quilly's words , even watered down, comes the required quivel.
There is poetry which a few people do well.
Then there is poetic drivel which is more fun and has its own experts.
But below them all is Quivel
Remember to write quivel you must write something that looks like a poem, any style , but is so bad that if it was printed in a book of poetry a true poetic zoilist would tear it out and burn it.

Pity Poor Quilly

Our Quilly has no backbone
For when they began to groan
She put an operiment on her words
Dumbed them down for the nerds
Their amarulence scared her off
Couldn’t stand to hear them scoff
She pessundated her operation
Now hard words she has to ration
No ambition to face their whine
Gives no pearls to such swine.
Saving old words no more a goal
Gives words from cradle role.

Of course the dragons were busy today you can see them HERE.