Our thanks to Mr. Pitfall, who held Violet Crepuscular’s feet to the fire until she agreed to drop Squire Oochy from the epic tale of romance and suspense, her magnum opus, Oy, Rodney.
“All right, all right!” she screamed, as her stockings smoldered. “He’s just some guy, okay? The dragon frothed his greenhouse. You’ll never hear of him again–I promise!”
And so we advance into Chapter DXXXI without Squire Oochy. What we have, instead, is the Frothing Dragon dropping froth all over Scurveyshire, sort of like a cosmic Frothee incident.
Have you tried FROTHEE (TM), the original all-purpose “Creamy Head”? FROTHEE goes on anywhere–mixed drinks, Kool-Aid, or even just a glass of beer that’s gone flat–you can ALWAYS “Get A Head!” with FROTHEE! Ask any bartending professional–
[Editor: Stop this at once! Has the woman gone completely mad–sticking a lousy commercial into the middle of her book? By Jove, I’ll set the dogs on her! I’ll… Editor is carried off by two attendants.]
Holy cow, we seem to have lost our bearings. “All Scurveyshire is now knee-deep in froth,” writes Ms. Crepuscular. “Johnno the Merry Minstrel argues that an Age of Froth is about to overtake the world.” We are not told with whom he argues.
And here the chapter breaks–with a promise of more suspense next week.
Undoubtedly, froth is caused by income inequality. 🙂
And climbit change.
… and heteronormativity. 🙂