Merriam-Webster OnLine just released its list of top searched words of 2005: integrity, refugee, contempt, filibuster, insipid, tsunami, pandemic, conclave, levee and inept. Use all 10 in a short story or poem.

The required words are in bold. It’s terrible writing and probably unfair to the current administration, but it was kind of fun. Please keep in mind that this is a fictional writing exercise and not a political statement.

It was a time that tested a man’s integrity. Donations were pouring in from all over the world, and very little of it was being tracked. People were being extraordinarily generous in their giving, temporarily forgetting their contempt for the poverty-stricken regions that were affected by the worst tsunami disaster the modern world had ever seen.

In the face of all the tragedy, exposing myself to rebels ,viruses, dead bodies and the possibility of falling victim to a predicted bird-flu pandemic while touring the God-forsaken corner of the world, it seemed a minor infraction to skim a little of the money off and funnel it back to the US for the election fund. The public was growing weary of disasters and many blamed the state of affairs on an inept government, as if the president personally ordered the worst hurricane on record, tore the levees down piece by piece and ripped the refugee families apart and scattered them coast to coast. Half the time he didn’t know what was going on. He honestly thought that FEMA could handle the disaster. If the party were to survive in the face of such ignorance, botched Supreme Court nominations and Democratic filibusters designed to call attention the the radical conservatism of the president’s judicial nominees it would take massive amounts of money, impeccable strategy and meetings as secret and solemn as the Papal conclave. The meetings and the money would have to be kept from the public, most congressmen, but mainly from the President himself. He must not know that his influence was being bought and bartered for. After the farce of his term in office and his utterly insipid leadership his final days must be beyond reproach. We did the things we did- the stealing, the lies, the secrets- not for him, or for his reputation, but for the country and for the future of the party.

They were a symbol of everything wrong in their marriage. Dark and dank, their colors muted after days spent drying in the autumn sun. They had carpeted the yard, shed by the oak tree that sheltered their one story red brick prison. She had nagged him about the unsightly mess, nagged him about what the neighbors would think. He had finally gotten enough of her insults, her pleadings and finally, her veiled threats. Like he couldn’t cook his own damn dinner. But he would do anything to stop the endless drone of her complaints, so he grabbed the rake from the shed and began to gather the leaves into a large pile in the center of the yard. He even raked the ditches. The smell of dampness lingered in his nostrils as he leaned on the rake, gasping for breath. He surveyed the yard, standing next to the pile that she would insist he burn, now that the raking was done. Nothing he did was enough. They yard was tidy now. Clean, devoid of leaves, and of character. Just like every other house on the street. All brick, all tidy, with sparkling clean late model sedans parked in their two car garages. Tidy, like her life would be without him in it. He dropped the rake on the pile and jingled the keys in his pocket as he walked to his own car, leaving the rake, the leaves and the tidy house behind.