words are made to communicate information. this information may or may not be of intetest to others, and indeed of little concern to the speaker. but there could be no words that are devoid of information. (they may be devoid of meaning, or not clear to a listener).

not all information may be convayed in words, or successfuly articulated as such. in that case, the conveyence of information is a failure.

now, all successful conveyence of infirmation depends on an establised context that is known to both speaker and receiver. contexts may vary wildly and with the the intended information that is meant to be conveyed.

now, all successful conveyence of infirmation depends on an establised context that is known to both speaker and receiver. contexts may vary wildly and with the the intended information that is meant to be conveyed.

the word 'inkpot' may normally be received as a reference to a somewhat archeic container of small size which held ink or other writing fluids and was readily accessible to a quill.

however the word can be used as a derisive tone, or a desperate plea for writing fluids (perhaps to record the location of the treasure, before dying). the word inkpot could evoke strong emotions of disgust at those who use only computers, or confusion , when encountering a new word.

its impossible to pin down the possible emotional evocations of words, and dictionaries shun this as much as they can giving as concise and universal definitions as possible.

it is therefore impossible, in my opinion to find words that have no possible emotional reaction to some speaker or receiver. however there are words that have a much stronger emotional reaction than others.

here is an experiment. assign a number to each word according to the emotional reaction it creates, and if possible write what emotions it stirrs up.

funicular

corn

Juice

cornucopia

chick

masticate

underbrush

shoelaces

tort

ammonium

bronze

funnel

bat

daddy

groupthink

slop

partial

I write to recite the noun of renowned that plays as Onomatopoeic and at its core context it is inherently due process for relating the very basis of what we say; for when we say in any language, inflection, dialect, or tirade this one thing, it will always be the same.

Word the word. It can even be used as a vague placeholder to maintain social pace and instead of a response illustrating nothing more than your recognition of it being the time to speak or respond because someone has been flabbing their upper hole in their meat suit at you all day long and normally one will have to receive a validating response intermittently to continue talking which is better tHan sharing space and being quiet together.

Word is the bare minimum whilst also being associated with the full spectrum that is language, and for this challenge it is perfect.

So word word word, word is the word,

and lastly

word to your mother

Cold pavement skittered under Mikey's feet as he entered the boiler room from the wall. A rancid smell filled his nostrils. He halted. A (mouse) foot in front of him lay a jutting contraption attached to the block of wood. Wire parts gleamed a faint yellow from the lighted crack in the door leading to the rest of the basement.

It didn't take much time for the mouse to realize it was a trap. A trap that had snapped through a delicate neck of its snacking victim. Several sunflower seeds lay scattered on the floor. and still jaws gaped before them in perpetual unsuspecting. Any blood from the scene had long gone sticky, filled the dark room with its all too familiar mouse corpse odor. Mikey's attention remained on the body before another figure appeared across the room. His friend Spikey had come out from the other wall. Relief washed over him as familiar beady eyes greeted him from the other end of the trap.

"Looks like they've got another one of us," sighed Mikey.

"Us?"

Mikey looked hard into Spikey's eyes. He failed to get a good read on his response before Spikey spoke again.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Jerel, he's dead. He's right in front of you."

Spikey looked down at the trap and walked half of its perimeter. He analyzed every angle like a math problem.

"That is Jerel all right," he said in a neutral tone.

"Spikey, he's dead. Stop being so cold."

"Well we don't really know that now do we."

"His head is nearly clean off his body!"

Their small squeaks dissolved into stone walls. They gazed at the wire clamp that crushed Jerel's neck flesh and bone to its wood platform. Spikey licked the victim's ear. Without effort, the loose head bobbled.

"He could just be sleeping, he sleeps with his eyes open all the time," mused Spikey.

"That isn't funny!"

"I'm not being funny, just making observations here. Why do you always have to go to the most extreme conclusions?"

"He's surrounded by a pool of blood."

Spikey put a foot to the coagulated pool and licked his fingers.

"Hmmm, good observation there Mikey. Where you hypothesize the source is?"

Mikey didn't respond to his friend. Instead, he glared at him in the eyes and directed his nose to the crushed spine of the corpse. Spikey snapped into attention and pressed his head against the wires, sliding the trap across the rough pavement floor.

"What are you doing?" asked Mikey.

"This stuff might've came from a deep puddle underneath."

"It came from his neck you bell end."

"Maybe, Maybe"

"No, not maybe. The trap snapped his neck!"

"What did I tell you about your quick conclusions?" snapped Spikey.

He pressed his head against Jerel's side and held his breath, listening. Mikey still watched him in shock as his friend lifted his face from the corpses fur.

"You know what? I think you might be right. There's not a sound from him. He's dead."

"See, I've been right all along."

Mikey gave a sigh of satisfied relief, but didn't end it before Spikey continued talking.

"I wonder what the cause was."

"Nooo!"

"Wait! I think I understand it now. The seeds. They poisoned him."

Mikey groaned and ran back into the wall hole. He didn't want to see any more of Spikey that day. There was no getting to him, no taming the overthinker. (Or the stupid)