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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. A WAY WITH WORDS. Copyright Š 2009 by Rayanda Arts. Protected by a Creative Commons 2.5 license: You are free to share and distribute this work for noncommercial purposes provided you retain attribution to Rayanda Arts and make no derivative works. This notice of copyright must be retained on any electronic or printed copies. For more original writing, photography and fine art, please visit:

A Way With Words by Rayanda

A way back I was idling away the day at Conway Bay, waiting for Waylitta to return from her stay in Venezuela, Paraguay, Uruguay, Kuwait, Norway and Wales. I was watching the whales play in the waves, when I met on the pathway a wheyish, wayless wayfarer, wearing waders. A bunch of Naked Ladies and a thin tin of wafers swayed in his suede lunch bag. “You look in a bad way,” I ventured to say. “Aye, when I awakened today,” he replied, sounding as weighed down as he looked, “way too late, I was blown away to find that Waylon McWaye, a waiter at the way station, had made his way to my home, from the waterway by the causeway before it winds into the freeway. He swaggered right up our walkway and in through the front doorway, by the way, to steal A Way With Words

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away my Wayna, in my car from the driveway, with Dwayne, our Great Dane, a stowaway.” He had a far away look, like he was drifting away. “You know,” he went on to say, “nowadays too few of us live by the ways of the good old days. Too quaint, you might say. Most choose instead the way of sinners and new fandangled ways that lead astray. The way I figure it, there are ways and means to lose one's way, but Wayna's chosen the hard way, the way of the flesh.” “You're right, in a way,” I said, awash with a fear of wading into the fray. “Sometimes that's the way things lay.” “But they must not stay that way. Wayna's in the family way,” he said, looking away. “First we rejoiced in a big way. Broadcasting it over the airways. Every day was a fete. But fate is cruel as a rule. It dealt me a low blow. Wayna took away the money we

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had laid away from my wages for the feng shui room I've been making headway on for baby, teeny Tinaway, when she comes our way.” “I see,” I said, hoping my smile wasn't giving me away. “I remember the heydays when everything was going our way,” the weary wayfarer said. “And Wayna with her wavy hair and tiny waist. Oh, what a waste! So I phoned her to ask why she was throwing away any chance for me to change my ways and find a better way. In my own way, I've always tried to be good to Wayna, in all ways. 'You cannot have it both ways,' I told her, aware things were looking dim. 'It's me or him.' 'Go away and stay away!' she said. “Waylon and I will wed. So drop dead.” 'Okay,' I said, 'if that's the way you want to play. But I'm having my car towed away from your hideaway. And Dwayne comes my way too.' 'No way! I'm here to stay,' was her final say. I was persuaded to let her

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have her way, until the thought of her going all the way with McWaye hammered away every which way at my resolve to stay away.” The quaver in his voice faded away into the wail of the wayward wind. Thinking I might dissuade him, I asked, “Won't you waiver?” He shook his head, and his face turned red. “Destiny awaits us all. But I'm not waiting for the call or taking the fall. Come what may, there has to be a way for me to waylay McWaye, the dirty swain.” “All the same—” I started to say. “He's to blame, having his way with Wayna. I need him out of the way, so I can talk her into seeing her way clear to heaving her way-out scheme with McWaye to the wayside by leaving him.” “God moves in mysterious ways, but every day in every way, where

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there's a will, there's a way,” I said, knowing without showing that he wasn't acquainting himself in any way with anything I was saying. “Anyway,” he was slow to say, “I've come a long way. I hope it's not too much out of your way to show a wayworn traveler the way to Allen Way. I came from thataway.” He looked the other way. I led the way to the other side of the quay. “It's a ways over that way,” I said, pointing above the quails roosting between the bales by the wale. “Aye,” he said. “Go ahead, fire away, I need to know the way.” “It's not so far away,” I said. “But you have to go out of your way to clear a way through the byway to make it to the highway that's in the way. So if you turn sideways, you'll be going the right way.”

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“There has to be a better way. Shouldn't I be going more to the leeway?” “You could do it that way, either way, there's some leeway. But you should do it my way, because your way is not as good by a long way. The roadway there leads you the other way round through the right-of-way which takes you out of your way. You see, you're going to have to go way down Wayborne, to the way point, which gives way to Kingsway on the way to Allen Way.” “That's way too far away.” “That's the way it is. You'll find my directions will help pave your way.” “Much obliged. I must be underway before I start seeing the Milky Way. Now,” he said, wagging a finger at me, “you beware of wanton wasters plying their wares.” “I swear I'm aware,” I said weightily. “For all it's worth, I'm not so silly as to

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think there's really any safe place from scoundrels anywhere on earth.� He gave me a wary stare that never waned as he waved and took his way. I have not seen him this way again to this day, so I expect one way or another he made it all the way. His way. —Rayanda

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A Way With Words  

Hitch your eyes to this post with the most fantastic, gymnastic, tongue fun with way words.