Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” addresses her legions and multitudes of readers: “Legions over there, multitudes, there. Please stand at attention.
“If you have been following my epic romance, Oy, Rodney, as assiduously as you should, you will surely be expecting, any chapter now, the long-delayed wedding of Lord Jeremy Coldsore–either as himself or as Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad–and Lady Margo Cargo.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer. Something’s come up!”
Thus she introduces Chapter DCLXXXI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney.
Lady Margo believes Lord Jeremy and Mr. Twombley are the same person. This is why the vicar went mad: he was going to have to officiate at the wedding.
But now, suddenly, Twombley has a change of heart, an awakening: some secrets can only be kept for so long. “Then they blow up!” asserts Ms. Crepuscular. In this case, it was Twombley’s neighbor’s hen house that blew up.
“There’s some things I gotta confess to you and Lady Margo, Germy, old boy! First, I’m not really Sargon of Akkad. That’s just a disguise to scare off the Babylonians. Second, I’ve already wed three wives. Third, if I try to say that last sentence really fast, I get tongue-tied. Fourth, I’ve shot some people that maybe I shouldn’t have. And fifth, I been feedin’ the vicar cat food on the sly, and it’s my fault he now thinks he’s a cat!”
The rest of the list, we are warned, doesn’t bear repeating.
I think I’ll go lie down.