From March 3, 2024
This here is the 700th chapter of the epic romance, Oy, Rodney, by The Queen of Suspense, Violet Crepuscular.
“They laughed at me when I began to write this novel,” she flosticates. “Well, where’s the laughter now! Eh? Eh? Even War and Whatchamacallit doesn’t have 700 chapters!”
In the last chapter, you will remember (or not), Picts invaded Scurveyshire and made off with the town’s park bench, unaware that the Royal Millipede Inspector was sleeping on it at the time. Imagine their incredulity when they discovered him! Several Picts plotzed!
“Wot’s yer name, blast yer eyes?” demands the Prime Pict. His accent is almost impenetrable. Fortunately they both speak Classical Swahili.
The inspector, however, does not know his name, it’s been so many years since he’s used it. “Call me Ishmael,” he suggests.
Meanwhile, the good folk of Scurveyshire are blaming Lord Jeremy Coldsore, in his incapacity as Justice of the Peace, for letting the Picts invade and make off with so much of their stuff. (They did not get Lady Margo Cargo’s wooden leg. That was a false alarm: it had simply rolled under her couch.)
“What do I have to do to please you?” he ululates.
“And that,” adds Ms. Crepuscular, “is where Suspense demands a chapter break!”
