Introducing Chapter CDLXVII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney–after publishing Chapter CDLXVIII last week–Violet Crepuscular offers this proskynesis to her readers:
“Dear readers, I offer you this proskynesis to make up for presenting my chapters out of order,” she writes. “I am told, by thimbleheads who’ve never written so much as a grocery list, let alone a novel, that it mars the continuity of the oeuf–as if I, of all people, needed instruction in heightening the story’s suspense! I, Violet Whatsername!” She is too upset just now to remember her surname.
Anyhow, in Chapter CDLXVII, which should’ve been run last week, Lady Margo Cargo, charred wig and all, and the American adventurer, Willis Twombley, hopelessly lost in Scurveyshire Forest after seeing the Wee Pool Lady, are miraculously rescued by Mr. Bigcheeks and his family, who are having a picnic just a few yards away. If you stand beside their picnic basket, you can see some of the stately hovels of Scurveyshire Village.
“Will you please stop discharging that firearm?” foliates Mr. Bigcheeks. “We’re havin’ a picnic here!”
“Ah, the thatched roofs of Scurveyshire!” sighs Lady Margo. “I feared I’d never see thee more!”
“Ah, shut up,” mutters Willis. His conviction that he is Sargon of Akkad has been perilously shaken by this experience. Sargon would never have gotten lost in Scurveyshire.
“How’s that for suspense!” Ms. Crepuscular winds up the chapter. She has remembered her surname. “Toothpaste dip to go with your potato chips, anyone?”