‘Mopey Dick’ Strikes Back (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Pin by Ross Johnston on totally judging books by their covers | Book  parody, Book humor, Romance novels

Introducing Chapter CDL of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular writes, “Now that the vicar has been cured of his conniptions–”

Whoa! Just a cotton-pickin’ minute, Violet! He should’ve been cured in Chapter CDXLIX–or not cured, as the case may be. You can’t get away with this. I know where your publisher lives! If he doesn’t bring you to heel, I’ll threaten to tell you where he lives.

[Grumbling, she returns to writing Chapter CDXLIX. This would be a stage direction, if this were a play.]

“You may recall,” she addresses her readers, “that the plan was to read aloud to the vicar the entire 900-plus pages of Mopey Dick, or, The Depressed White Whale, reputed to be the funniest book in the world. Lord Jeremy Coldsore and his fiancee, the wealthy Lady Margo Cargo, take turns reading. And when they reach Page 468…”

With a horripilating scream, the vicar leaps from his bed, seizes a handy butcher knife that happened to be lying on the quilt, grabs Lady Margo, and with a single sweep of the knife, scalps her!

Well, sort of scalps her. He never knew she was as bald as a cue-ball, owing to a childhood fixation on click beetles. So what he actually has now is her wig, which he brandishes exultantly, whooping like a greater hornbill.

“Give that back, you confounded lunatic vicar!” she fasculates. “Jeremy, make him give me back my wig–it’s cold in here!”

But the vicar dives out the window and dances about the yard. Very fortunately indeed, before he can be sucked under the wading pool, a passing cowboy manages to lasso him–

Oh, forsooth. A passing cowboy? Who just happens to have his lasso handy–in Victorian Scurveyshire?

This more than flesh and blood can bear.

Curing the Vicar’s Conniptions (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Ms. Crepuscular's Estonian Folk Tale ('Oy, Rodney') – Lee Duigon

At last! Chapter CDXLVIII of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, in which she reveals the funniest book ever written–here it is, calloo, callay, o frabjous day!

Ms. Crepuscular suspends the action so she can tell the reader, “This took an extraordinary among of research! At length it narrowed down to a choice between two books, both published in 1858: A Brief Narrative of My Captivity Among Dubious Presbyterians, or A Lady’s Bad Time and the much more famous work by the man known only as “Pumpkinhead,” Mopey Dick, or The Depressed White Whale. One of these, if read to the vicar, will cure his conniptions. The other will make them worse–much worse! Which one is right? Which one is the funniest book in the world?”

Her solution to the problem is simplicity itself. Resorting to the nearby Home For Persons With Conniptions, Ms. Crepuscular reads to the patients. Before anyone gets better or worse, the authorities drag her back outside by the ankles.

With even more simplicity, she flips a coin. Mopey Dick, all 962 pages of it, is to be read to the vicar. If it doesn’t work, he’s liable to scream, leap out of his bed and through the open window, and run around in his nightshirt until he’s sucked under the wading pool.

“It’s going to take a while to read this,” Violet crepusculates to her readers, “so tune in next week to see what happens! Heh-heh, they don’t call me The Mistress of Suspense for nothing!”

[Editor’s Note: I have read several chapters of Mopey Dick and I don’t think it’s funny at all. And Dubious Presbyterians is equally devoid of humor. A six-year-old telling Irish jokes would be more chuckle-inducing than these brainless tomes.]