“Now that the story makes sense,” writes Violet Crepuscular, we can proceed to Chapter CCXXXVIII of her epic romance novel, Oy, Rodney, in which Lord Jeremy Coldsore and his friend, the American adventurer Willis Twombley, prepare for their wedding to Lady Margo Cargo–who thinks they are the same person, and is troubled when she sees them together.
“It gets awfully confusing sometimes, Sargon, dear,” she confides to Twombley, who believes himself to be Sargon of Akkad.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, darlin’,” he replies. “It’s only ancient Akkadian magic, which I got to do because there’s a lot of Babylonian secret agents after me. Jist remember that I’m only Sargon when I’m me.” This answer satisfies her. Whether it satisfies the reader or not remains in question.
But wait! Lord Jeremy has received a cryptic warning from the Wise Woman of the Woods–written in Old Estonian, for security’s sake. Twombley translates:
“Dear Lord Jeremy, how are you? I am fine. It’s me, the Wise Woman of the Woods.
“Beware the wedding guest who has only one buttock. He will put a curse on your marriage! You must take decisive action to stop him.”
Responding with alacrity (a word I seldom get to use), Lord Jeremy orders Constable Chumley to arrest everyone in Scurveyshire who has only one buttock. “Frae the decken with a crooster, m’lord,” replies the constable. He makes a beeline for the pub, The Lying Tart.
“Unless I am much mistaken,” says Lord Jeremy, “this is more of Black Rodney’s work. But it ought to be pretty easy to find a man with one buttock.”
“I knew a man like that in Dodge City,” Twombley recalls, “but I bet it ain’t him.”
Ms. Crepuscular concludes the chapter with a recipe for wood.
“Responding with alacrity (a word I seldom get to use), Lord Jeremy orders Constable Chumley to arrest everyone in Scurveyshire who has only one buttock. ‘Frae the decken with a crooster, m’lord,’ replies the constable. He makes a beeline for the pub, The Lying Tart.”
It’s obvious that Chumley has more sense than anyone else in Scurveyshire. 🙂 BTW, that’s the best pub name I’m ever hear, although “The Happy Daze” in Longmont, Colorado comes in as a close second. 🙂
Credit Patty–and a lapse of attention on my part–with the name. She said something else, actually, but that’s what I thought she said and it gave me a laugh.
Well, it worked out for the good.