“The Pict came down like galoshes in the night” (writes Violet Crepuscular, introducing Chapter DCLXXXXIX of her extraordinary romance, Oy, Rodney) “And alas for Scurveyshire: out goes the light!” [The publisher wishes to disavow any interest in or connection with Ms. Crepuscular’s poetic efforts.]
The Picts have come and gone. They came while the good people of Scurveyshire were playing Bingo. And they ravaged the place. Mourn, O Scurveyshire! For they have taken your park bench, several rain barrels, Constable Chumley’s tricycle, and the only street lamp that was working.
“See? Black Rodney’s ancient Curse!” declares Ms. Crepuscular. “Good thing everyone was playing Bingo! Now can I get back to romance?”
She means the childhood romance between Lady Margo Cargo and the man who is now the Royal Millipede inspector. He has forgotten his name. Lady Margo has forgotten he ever existed. (They were only four and six months old, respectively, at the time. So much has changed since then.)
But wait! What’s this?
“O holy jumping catfish!” importunes The Queen of Suspense. “The Picts have got Whatsisname!” (She’s forgotten, too.) “He was sleeping on the park bench when they took it!”
See how cleverly she plants the seed of future chapters. Is it any wonder readers call her a you-know-what?
That is clever, and a true surprise. In spite of herself, Violet actually made something happen. I’d say more, but I gotta go, there’s a herd of swine flying over my house. 🙂