[Editor’s Note: In all the excitement over Halloween, I very nearly forgot to touch base with our in-house novelist, Ms. Violet Crepuscular. Be honest, now–how many of you would have missed her?]
Introducing chapter CDL (at last!) of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Ms. Crepuscular alludes to an email from reader Konrad Adenauer from Papadapoulosburg, Mississippi.
“‘Dear Ms. Crepuscular,’ he writes,” she writes (the quotation marks are getting tricky), “‘what has happened to Rodney the Medieval Sorcerer, whom you have said is responsible for all these disturbing events in Scurveyshire? Have you forgotten him?'”
“I don’t mind if some of my readers want to gristonize my book,” she continues, “but there is a wide-spread perception that, like, anybody can be a medieval sorcerer–but nothing could be farther from the truth!
“I have not mentioned Rodney lately because he’s been very, very busy conjuring mythical monsters out of I don’t know where and trying to turn them loose on Scurveyshire! Centaurs, harpies, griffins, hydras, dragons–he’s got ’em all lined up for an invasion. But first, a test!”
The vicar has just been rescued by a passing cowboy and forced to give back Lady Margo’s wig. As they all settle down to chew tobacco, no one notices the first mythical creature to creep out from under the vicar’s wading pool.
You guessed it! It’s a jackalope, complete with horns. Half-jack rabbit, half-pronghorn antelope or white-tailed deer, these creatures are increasingly rare in Victorian England. Mythological creatures are never abundant anywhere.
Anyhow, the jackalope hops off into the vicar’s kitchen garden. When someone finally sees the majestic beast, it’ll be too late!
Uh, too late for what?
“You’ll see!” chortles Violet.