258 Smarmy Smorzando

Smarmy Smorzando was a woman to be reckoned with. Her hair was dutifully coiffed daily just so recherché. Her clothes--always--were impeccably, fashionably, admirably haute. She was a bon vivant, vivisecting a ne'er-do-well of derring-do.

She lived an amazing life in ordinary times; an amazing person among the hoi polloi. She was a patrician who pronged, unobstructed and effusively, through the throngs of plebeians. She was condescending with adorers, down-upending with peers, effervescent among the stagnant, evanescent among paparazzi, and viridescent to those she envied.

Smarmy Smorzando was relevant beyond her allotted 15 minutes, influential among influences and discouragers alike, and important among the self-appointed self-important.

She was a perfectionist who refined perfection; an insurrectionist who impressed the impressionistic; a euphamist among the eumorists; an auscultating percussionist striking a beat to a different drum that drummed the heartbeat of an indifference from...

Indifference from the poor, the hungry, the downtrodden, the miserable and suffering, the sick, and the otherwise other-worldly deserving from the underserving.

Smarmy Smorzando had coiff and haute, bling and swag, poise and grace, snide and snark, all wax and no wane, misgivings over giving, and damnation if she did and damnation if she didn't.

She was tall and thin but extended far and wide. She opined widely with her mouth opened widely. Her audience was Gaussian, and she buoyed the center curve highly above the heads of those below it. She got over everyone but could always stoop lower.

Smarmy Smorzando left then laughing when she went but bleeding when she came. The little people so far below her needed her like they needed, so far, a hole in the head, so graciously rendered by her stiletto shoes stepping on their heads to reach her status.

She called her own name as others called her names. She took names as those names took her seriously. But, true to her own name, Smarmy Smorzando followed Gaussian when the time came and merely faded away.

Tomorrow she will be as famous as Tildon Tessier was yesterday. Remember him? Windows open for raiders and pirates and burglars to steal, but before they get away--and no one in this life ever does--that window closes cruelly and righteously.

__________

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Saturday, September 14, Day 258 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Accompaniment photos were AI derived, but the beautiful people were not.

_____________

About this story:

I subscribe to a feed called "Word-of-the-Day" to expand my vocabulary. But I am also looking for unusual words to incorporate into my characters names in an effort to tell part of their stories with their very names. When I received "smorzando" in my email, I knew I had something! As such...

SMORZANDO:

(of a piece of music) to be played fading away gradually. adverb. 2. fading away gradually.

Smorzando is an Italian word that means "dying away" or "diminishing" in English. In music, it's used as an instruction to gradually decrease the volume and intensity of a piece, creating a fading effect. While the sound dies away, some compositions that use smorzando draw attention to the passion conveyed through the effect.

________

THIS CHALLENGE REFUSES TO FADE AWAY, 366 NOTES AT A TIME.

There are currently three surviving, non-fading Vocal composers still singing in the 2020s of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer (Tenor)

• Rachel Deeming (Soprano)

• Gerard DiLeo (Falsetto)