[The management wishes to thank readers who objected to the omission of a chapter about the Scurveyshire Fox Hunt. Violet Crepuscular has finally given in to popular demand.]
“I’ll do practically anything to please my loyal readers,” writes Ms. Crepuscular, introducing “a pivotal chapter,” Chapter CDLXXXX, of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. “Yes, I’ll even lacerate my authorial instincts, totally ignore my own literary judgment, and give the wretched peasants their stupid idiot fox hunt! But only because I esteem them so highly.”
So we’re back to the fox hunt. An unexpected economic downturn earlier this season forced the members of the Scurveyshire Hunt to sell their hounds, horses, saddles, stables, homes, and those smurfy red jackets, funny hats, funny boots, and tight pants. They even had to sell those goofy little horns they blow.
But the hunt must go on! Only now the hunters wear grass skirts (kind of chilly for that), chase the fox on foot without any hounds to catch the scent, and scarf down anything edible that they might lay their hands on. It’s what comes of the entire upper class investing in a scheme to boil potatoes without using any pots or pans. They were all supposed to get rich, but they lost their shirts–literally.
“I would not be the Queen of Suspense,” she concludes, “if I didn’t end this chapter with a cliffhanger!” So we have Constable Chumley hanging from a cliff. We are not told what he’s doing there, but it sure is suspenseful.