What business could be more pressing than the imminent eruption of a volcano, Mt. Scurveyshire? Author Violet Crepuscular, the Queen of Suspense, clues us in as she writes Chapter DCXLI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney.
“It has, dear reader, been 16 thousand years since Mt. Scurveyshire erupted,” she writes. “But even more important is the annual ritual of a crikkit match between Scurveyshire Village and nearby Plaguesby. It is spelled ‘crikkit’ to distinguish it from that other game whose rules have never been clear to me.”
Attendance at the match is mandatory; but because the sport is played in the nude, all spectators have to stand with their backs to the playing field. The winners get the losers’ clothes.
“What is this crazy business?” demands the American adventurer, Willis Twombley, who has never seen this until now.
“It’s a village ritual whose origins go back to the Dawn of Time,” explains Lord Jeremy Coldsore, who will serve as both umpire and referee (they can’t make up their minds). He, too, has to avert his eyes from the action on the field.
“Ain’t we got to plug up the volcano first?”
“Don’t let anybody hear you say that!” Lord Jeremy cautions him.
At this point a loose ball hits him on the back of the head and renders him unconscious. No one knows what to do.
And the volcano has begun to rumble ominously.
“And that’s suspense!” Ms. Crepuscular writes.
Well, I’ve known some umpires who seemed to have averted their eyes from the action but didn’t let that stop them from making their calls anyway. I’ve yelled a few choice words at them at the time, as I recall, as did a number of other people on and off the field. Ah, those were the days….
I’m waiting on tenderhooks (you didn’t think I’d wait around on sharp pointy tenterhooks, did you?) to see what happens next in Scurveyshire.
This truly is suspense; I must concur. 🙂