Introducing Chapter CCCXLII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, which should have appeared last week but didn’t quite make it, Violet Crepuscular confides in her readers:
“Dear reader, I am thoroughly chagrined about the mess made here last week by that Byron the Quokka character! Really, I do not write this epic romance with any kind of marsupial audience in mind! I didn’t get where I am today, writing for marsupials. So here is a Chapter CCCXLII do-over.”
Having ruined her elopement by eloping to the wrong warehouse in the wrong town–in fact, this is the second time in her life that she has done this–Lady Margo Cargo, accompanied by her crusty old butler, Crusty, is alarmed by a series of blood-curdling moans issuing from behind a stack of Acme False Facts. But when Crusty pulls down the crates, they discover the Pottery sisters, Febrile and Facile, who make a habit of hiding in abandoned warehouses.
“It’s only the Pottery sisters, you silly old trout–Febrile and Facile,” Crusty exclaims. “What are you two doing here? This place is supposed to be deserted.”
“Please, sir and madam! We were only chewing gum,” explains Febrile. The twins are often mistaken for a pair of very large insects. This accounts for their attraction to abandoned warehouses.
“I was supposed to get married here tonight,” Lady Margo mutters, “but there’s no groom. I suppose we ought to go home.”
“Please, madam!” cries Facile. “Have a stick of gum first.” Over Crusty’s mean-spirited objection, Lady Margo accepts a stick of gum. It tastes horrible.
“By now,” interjects Ms. Crepuscular, “the reader is surely wondering what Lord Jeremy Coldsore, Mr. Twombley, and the vicar are doing at the other warehouse. That will be elucidated in the next chapter–without marsupials!”
Against all logic, I find that things of better when I plan matters with the marsupial audience in mind. I’d elaborate, but I have company on the one, so I really need to hop out of here.
Not things of better, but “things GO better”.
BTW, whenever I read, or even recall, the expression “old trout” I break into uncontrollable fits of laughter. This would be a good thing, except for the fact that I recently changed careers and now work as a grief counselor. So, tomorrow, I’ll be listening to some poor old trout go on and on about the loss of her pet tarantula, Jaime, and I’ll break into uncontrollable laughter. This could negatively affect my next review.
Jaime got lost???
The problem is, this particular old trout keeps forgetting that her tarantula is actually named Herb (it’s her piranha that is named Jaime) and it’s missing because it escaped its cage months ago and had been living free in her home ever since. That’s actually when she became a client, because one day it bit her, and now she’s bitter. Herb isn’t coming back, because after she became bitter because it bit her, she rolled up a nearby stack of papers which comprised a scientific paper on on the grazing habits of certain ungulates. So Herb made for the great outdoors, not wanting her to commit Herbicide using a paper about Herbivores.
As you can see, this be career has its moments of challenge and it would be easy to get confused. Running out of the room laughing hysterically every time the phrase “old trout” come to mind might make my workday somewhat better, but I could end up having to return to my former profession, chipping dried chewing gum from the bottom of tables at the public library. 🙂