The sign on the store read, “Word Shoppe.” I glanced at my watch, thinking, “worth a quick peek.”

As I stepped inside, a woman at the front counter spoke without looking up. “Help you?”

“Maybe. I hope so. I’ve been hunting for a new word to… umm, …well, to describe a certain sexual activity that my girlfriend and I enjoy. Seems like none of the usual favorites really hit the mark.”

“Hmmpf! Good luck with that. Haven’t seen a new word in that category in a long time. You might find something in the back, in the clearance bin.”

Hurrying toward the rear of the store, I passed through the Phrase Department, covering my ears lest I be deafened by a cacophony of the catchy new expressions screaming for attention. Hastening through the next room, I resisted the temptation to stop and browse the “Sesquipedalian Specials.”

Moving on, I practically ran through the crowded Pronoun Department and the Coming Soon Room (where the oft promised “new vowel” has yet to materialize). I decisively dodged the Cliché Collection, acutely aware of my propensity to loiter there.

Finally, I entered a small dimly lit room containing a singular bin. A sign affixed to the bin read: “New and Slightly Used Words. Close Out Sale.” I began ponderously rummaging through a hodgepodge of dusty, stale words. Moments later, on the verge of capitulation, I picked up a small, seemingly innocuous word. “Smush.” I held it up and blew the dust off it. Examined it. “What an ugly duckling,” I thought.

On the bottom was a label that read: “New word – coined accidentally – needs definition.” Slowly my bemused smile grew into a bawdy grin. What a perfect word to describe the impassioned colliding and caressing of creamy clits! Of mashing mounds and meshing folds!

Snatching “Smush,” I elatedly rushed past the Rhyming Room and the Alliteration Alcove, eager to get home to my girlfriend, and… well... let’s see… what's the word I’m looking for…