Introducing Chapter CDXXX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular shares a letter she received from reader Cedric Durst of Ponco City, Bulgaria.
“Dear Mr. Crepuscular, so where’s this planet-threatening catastrophe you promised in your last chapter–that stupid business about the whelk and the crayfish not seeing eye to eye? You are playing games with us! Someone ought to censor you.”
“This is what you have to put up with, as an artist–arrant philistinism,” Ms. (not Mr.) Crepuscular replies. “You write about the obstacles to true love, and along comes some barbarian who wants to talk about aquariums! I am cut to the quick.”
Setting up the end of the world is no easy task. Now she’s getting bombarded with complaints from the Philistine community, such as it is. This distraction has made her narrative disjointed. There’s nothing for it but to move on to Chapter CDXXXI.
Lady Margo Cargo is mad at everyone for paying insufficient heed to the feelings of her pet crayfish, Oswin, while her fiancee, Lord Jeremy Coldsore, is equally miffed that his pet whelk, Stuart, has been slighted. Constable Chumley arrests them both.
“I say!” says Jeremy. “You can’t arrest me–I’m the justice of the peace! I’m your boss.”
The constable shrugs. “Menner yon third grockies, m’lord,” he replies sententiously. Locking the cell, he makes a grand show of throwing away the key and then moves on to The Lying Tart for a quick pint.
“This is your fault, Jeremy!” growls Lady Margo.
And there we must leave them while Violet answers the rest of her mail.