Category: satire

The Accordion Man Cometh (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

We are offered a rare glimpse into the creative mind at work, thanks to a notebook carelessly left on a windowsill by Violet Crepuscular, The Queen Of Suspense.

With the June Taylor Dancers, from the 1950s, lurking in the woods around Scurveyshire in the 1850s, what role will Lord Jeremy Coldsore’s 20-pound accordion play in saving the town? And don’t forget Mr. Pudding and his newts! A reader in Pastiche Grove, Michigan, forgot… and a giant spider got her.

The notebook, written in Cretan Linear A, provides tantalizing sketches of the June Taylor Dancers warding off the attacking newts while a bearded man with strange anatomical features (two left hands, for instance) plays a large accordion.

“Over the past 70 years,” she writes, reverting to English for the nonce, “I have found Cretan Linear B superior to the Indus Valley Script when it comes to keeping notes. And either one will drive would-be plagiarists crazy! Go ahead, sucker–plagiarize this!”

Cretan script linear hi-res stock photography and images - Alamy

“I like the Indus Valley Script for day-to-day reminders involving goldfish food, etc.; but as you can see by this example, Linear A has it beat.”

Indus Script - World History Encyclopedia Obviously not suitable for serious literary porpoises!

Quokka U.: Coming Along REPRINT from March 2020

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Ipso loquitur mannimota, everybody! Byron the Quokka here, with the latest news about the creation of Quokka University.

We’ve got our Latin motto, we’ve hired a coach for our pick-up sticks team–she insists on remaining incognito, wherever that is–and we’ve appointed half a dozen deans. For that we did “one potato, two potato.” We make a lot of important decisions that way.

This week we wrestled with the question of whether or not we need to set up a cafeteria. We quokkas eat a lot of leaves and bark, grass, fruit and berries, all of which, well, grow here on Rotnest Island so there’s always something to eat, we don’t have to go looking for it. So a faction led by Aunt Feezy said we didn’t need a cafeteria, but every college I ever heard of has one, so we decided we’d better have one, too. Just in case. Two quokkas named Arnie and Asshurbanipal found this nice big cardboard box that we can use. Just bring some food inside and eat it there. It’ll do for starters.

As for degree programs and courses and things like that, we’re still trying to figure out how many humans we can admit as students and what kind of courses they would like. We want to offer stuff they can’t get in human colleges–and how much should we charge them for it? We don’t use money, so how would they pay for their higher education? Who knew it was so much work to set up a college?

We’re also thinking maybe we won’t have courses. Uncle Ripcord says that would be “real cutting-edge, it’ll probably start a trend.” We shall see!

Meanwhile, we want you all to know we’re putting a good twenty minutes a week into this enterprise and that’s why it’s taking shape so fast.

Joe Collidge Discovers Cryptozoology REPRINT

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From July 10, 2020

I wented to “a” reel kool lexture “last” nihght it was all abuot a New Scyints i has nevver herd “Of” it is caled Clepto-Zoo-Olligy! Oar somb thing “lyke” That!!

Did yiu know thare is aminals alll Over “the” Whirld that noboddy thay has sceen themb befour??? Somb of themb is Dynasores and Willy mammeths but somb of themb “thay” are smawl aminals and clepto zooollagists thay “Are” loocking al Over “the” plaice to fyned themb!!!!

We seen a Lot “of” slydes of theeze Secret Creetchers lyke :the “ones” up thare In the Pixture,, i hasnt nevver sceene nothing Like themb befour,, thay live Up In “The” deeep wooulds ware thare “is” aslo Big Foot and Choopa Capra and the Lock Nest Manster!!!!! Somboddy whoo was jist “a” Biggit “and” a Hater he sayed thay “are” Ownly plane old Rabbets so we beet himb up,, that is reel Socile Jutstus!!!!

Heer is anether Clepto Aminal.

Considering Consciousness Through The Eyes Of A Squirrel : 13.7: Cosmos And Culture : NPR

At frist i thinked I sceene One “Of” theeze onct rihght hear On Our Campis it was clyming “a” Treee but ackturally it is a Seecrit Clepto Zology Creetcher it livves in Affricker and the Naytivves thay are al Afrayed of it!!!! The lexture sayed it jist gose “To Shoh” that thare is Seecrit Creetchers evry ware!!!

The lexture thay sayed theeze aminals thay Are Prooof that Evilusion it is Reel and evin Peeple thay are goingto Evolve “into” somb thing Elsse so i amb goingto Keep a Iye out fore “it”!!!!!!

Can We Help the Queen of Suspense? REPRINT FROM 2024

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

We’ve been waiting two weeks for Chapter DCCXLIV of Violet Crepuscular’s immortal romance novel, Oy, Rodney. Is she all right?

“She went out trick-or-treatin’ last night,” says her neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, “and never come back. She wears the same costume every year–a milkmaid with sort of a stuffed possum on her shoulder.” Last night was Oct. 5. “She likes to get out there before anybody else,” explains Mr. Pitfall. “Once or twice she came out in August. Nobody ever gives her any candy. I give her some chewin’ tobacco once.”

To recapitulate: The June Taylor Dancers, transported into the Victorian Age, are hiding in the woods around Scurveyshire. Lord Jeremy Coldsore is hunting for them with his 20-pound accordion. And Mr. Pudding is preparing his newts for war. There’s also something about Lady Margo Cargo discovering the source of the Nile, but Ms. Crepuscular has been strangely silent about that.

She does have a message for her readers. If you can’t find a copy of The Scurveyshire Times, here’s the substance of it.

“Dear readers, I have not stopped writing! I am only building up the suspense. That is why they call me The Queen of Suspense. That is why they call my most devoted readers ‘Idiots.’ Next week, honest, I’ll have that chapter for you!”

[Editor’s Note: Mr. Pitfall goes to bed at 6 p.m. every night. If Violet had come home at 6:15, he would have missed her.]

We’ve Hired a Professor! REPRINT from 11/2020

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Taking Selfies With The Happy Quokka Has Been Banned In Australia | Happy animals, Cute animals, Quokka

G’day from Quokka University! Byron here: and, as chairquokka of our Political Science Dept., I wish to announce the hiring of an associate professor! Hired by me, in fact. Trumpets, please! May I introduce our first associate professor of political science…here he is…

NORBERT

Norbert the therapy dog!

I hired him because you can hardly believe how sharply he can change direction, even while running at full speed. This is an invaluable skill in politics! Human politicians take pride in their ability to zig-zag, but Norbert puts them all to shame.

I have assigned him to teach Sharp Turns 101 and Being For It, Then Against It 202.

Did I mention he works cheap? Well, he only weighs three pounds, it’s not like you have to feed him a lot. No need to raise the tuition just to feed Professor Norbert.

As for the burning question, “What is the tuition?”, well, don’t look at me, I’m the Poli Sci Dept.! See if you can find the registrar, Aunt Feezy the Quokka, and ask her. I think I saw her going into the mangrove swamp.

Joe Collidge Drops Out! REPRINT FROM 2024

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369,062 Bouncing Ball Stock Photos, High-Res Pictures, and ...

I doughnt Know wye “that thare” hedline is up thare, making Peple “think” I amb Droping Out of Collidge!!! Sumbboddy thay are Trying “to” maik me look stupid!!!!!

What reely hapened was, I fell Off these here big bawls we “were bounsing Araound to raze munny foar Kamalala to git E-lektid Pressadint! It’s Not “as” eezy as it looks!! So I was “bountsing” aroaund wen I thawt I seen Jobydin! bowncing on a big red bawl and it maid me fawl off!!!! And wen I looked agin,, he waznt thare!!!!!!

This prooves that he has Magickle Powers!!!!

We has sended Off “a” leter to Kamalala aksing Her to c”ome” to our Campis and bounse whith us!!!!! Thar wil “kill off” the roomers that she “is” a Which!!!!!! Gotta do “that” befoar its Halloween!!!!

The Peasants Are Revolting! (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT from 4/1/2018

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Chapter CXLIX of Violet Crepuscular’s worst-selling romance, Oy, Rodney, is action-packed! Honest.

But before it all heats up, Lord Jeremy Coldsore’s friend, the American adventurer Willis Twombley, has a problem. He confides in Lord Jeremy.

“Germy, ol’ hoss,” he says, “you sure got a lot of creditors. I ain’t sure I’ve shot the half of ’em, and I’m afraid you’re goin’ to have to expand your cellar here at Coldsore Hall, ’cause I’m runnin’ out of places to stash the bodies. A few of ’em, y’see, they’re gettin’ kind of high, if you know what I mean. Especially that fella I parked in the closet in the billiard room. We need more space!”

“Oh, really, Sargon!” Twombley still thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad. “I am trying to prepare our wedding to Lady Margo, and I’m sure I don’t have the funds to hire a construction crew!”

“Who said anything about hirin’ ’em? You’re the nobility, ain’t you? And they’re the peasants. Just draft a bunch of ’em to dig out a bigger cellar. This is England, after all–you don’t have to pay ’em.”

Meanwhile, Miss Lizzie the spider girl has been crying for action vis-a-vis the vicar’s mysterious, dangerous backyard wading pool. In the taproom at The Lying Tart, her heated oratory inspires the rustic patrons to snatch up scythes and torches and form a mob to attack and destroy the pool–which is now believed to be the “nest” of the ancient sorcerer Black Rodney, from which he periodically emerges to devour his unsuspecting victims.

Howling and roaring, the mob streams toward the vicar’s property. But when the uproar dies down for just a moment, Albert the Daft Old Minstrel asks a daunting question.

“Er, I say! What are we to do if Black Rodney comes out and gits us all?” The mob is a mere twenty yards from the hedge marking the border of the vicar’s yard. Behind it lies the pool.

Albert’s question stops the mob in its track. Everybody looks at everybody else. Suddenly they all drop their makeshift weapons and run away in every conceivable direction.

Constable Chumley, alerted by the noise, arrives too late to see anything but a large pile of scythes, pitchforks, and guttering torches. He shakes his head.

“‘Tis a froffin’ mair dindle hereabouts, this verning,” he soliloquizes.

Joe Collidge: Movie Review REPRINT

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From August 2, 2019

I seen a reely Grate movy last “nihght” thay showed it to us “in” Nothing Studies and i didnt get the Tital it was in Chineese but anyhow “it” was ether a Brittish movy or Check i dont “know,, i get themb two contries mixted up sombtimes!!

It was al abote Climbit Chainge maiking “the” whorld come to a end and this evel pressadint he was like Donold Trumpt,, he ownly whanted Evryboddy to Die!!! so he culd maik a prophitt!!! So he woodnt let annyboddy Save The Planet But ha-ha-ha the joak “it” Was “on” himb wen he got Drownded becose the see-levels they comed up over “the” Wite Howse and he coodnt swimb!!! That was Lanardo Dee Cabron who played himb!!!

In depsaration the whorld it turned to wimmin of culler and “one” “of” themb she Got To be Pressadint of the hole Whorld and she fixted evry Thing!!! She made a 110$% tax raite and Open Boarders and lots more Transgender and rihght away evry Thing “it” strated to Get Beter!!! And then yiu know watt she done?? She “got” A hole buntch of Whiches to make a magickle spel and that putt “a” Stopp “to” al the Bad Whether!!!! And than wee hadded Comunism and evry Thing “it” Was Purfict!!!!

I love themb movyes wen thay “are” abote Socile Jutstus i whish thare was Moar Of themb and the Guvernmint thay shood maik evryboddy See Themb over and over agen!!!!!!!!!!

The Private Life of Violet Crepuscular (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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From July 2, 2023

a gripping page-turner headed for the top of the NY Times bestseller list | Romance novels, Funny romance, Book parody

“My private, personal life,” writes Violet Crepuscular, preparing to burrow into Chapter DCXLIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, “is almost as passionate and exciting as the lives of my various characters in my epic romance, Oy, Rodney.” [Editorial comment: Oh, do shut up!]

“Even as I plotted the eruption of Mt. Scurveyshire,” she continues, despite protests, “I was being courted by my neighbor Mr. Pitfall’s evil but incredibly dashing cousin, Mr. Stinky. He is on leave from somewhere. He read my latest chapter and immediately proposed marriage to me!” [“Honestly, your honor, I had no idea how absolutely awful this book would be before I published some of it…”]

Ms. Crepuscular continues, rather like a tank rolling over weakly-defended trenches: “At this point I was considering having the hibernating rhino wake up and run amok; but in order to keep the suspense going, I’ve put it off. Instead, we are going to go to The Lying Tart and see what that ritual poking business is about.” For a more detailed explanation, she turns to Constable Chumley.

“Fthairvin, yodz, I habna raickle shifft!” “No one says it better!” chimes in Ms. Crepuscular. “Is that suspense, or what!”

We are unable to confirm or refute a rumor that William Shatner has agreed to reprise his old Star Trek role, Captain Kirk, if they ever make a movie out of Oy, Rodney. Johnno the Merry Minstrel says it’s a sure thing… but who can believe a fictional character?

Violet Crepuscular’s Fan Mail (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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Lord of the tube socks | Romance novels, Funny romance, Book humor

From January 31, 2021

Introducing Chapter CDI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular takes a break from the plot and inserts extractions from some of her fan mail. She is hampered in this exercise by an inability to read. Otherwise she would never have let some of these letters see the light of day.

“It’s not that I can’t read at all,” she hastens to explain. “It’s just that I can’t read stuff that people write.” We are glad she’s cleared that up. “Fan mail,” she adds, “proves that you’ve got readers.”

From Cindy Indy, Rawalpindi: “Dear Ms. Crepuscular, your novel proves to be an effective decay-preventive dentifrice when used in a program of conscientious oral hygiene and regular professional care.”

Ozzie Spore, New York: “Your book is the only thing that keeps me living.”

Ms. June Spumoni, Bad Axe, Michigan: “My pet emu bit and kicked me after I lined his cage with pages from your wretched novel.”

Tom Popocatepetl, Jurassic Park, Hawaii: “How do you spell your name?”

“I have taken some flak for the elegant way in which I got rid of the monsters that had overrun Scurveyshire,” Ms. Crepuscular confides in her readers. She has run out of fan mail and needs to fill the rest of the chapter somehow. Harking back to her days in grade school, she writes in longhand, 100 times, “I must not waste paper.”