in a moment of desperation
“Wait,” he said. “That’s not a word.”
I looked down to where, in a moment of desperation, I’d played zixic on a triple-word-score space.
“Uh, sure it is.”
“What’s it mean?”
“It’s sort of like…quixotic, but with more…”
“Bullshit?”
I laughed out loud. I’d never heard him swear before.
“More zeal. Hence the z.”
“Uh-huh. Use it in a sentence.”
“Um…’You are a zixic writer.’“
“I don’t believe this.”
“That you’re zixic?”
“That you’re trying to cheat at Scrabble.” He leaned back against my couch, shaking his head. “I mean, I was ready to accept the whole evil thing, but this is kind of extreme.”
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