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We do not have, today, a Chapter DXXXIII of Violet Crepuscular’s classic romance novel, Oy, Rodney. Her neighbor (and would-be suitor), Mr. Pitfall, took her out to dinner last week; and as they sat at their table in Leroy’s Jade Pagoda, something wonderful happened.
Just as she was digging into her fried rice with maple syrup and Ipana toothpaste, a waiter came to her table and handed her a telegraph… the contents of which made her extremely giddy.
“It’s from Prince Ulio of Portugal, our beloved queen’s nephew thrice removed.” (“Removed where?” wonders Mr. Pitfall. “Did he deserve removing?”) “And guess what!” Violet cackles uncontrollably. “His committee has just awarded me the Pedro Alamagache Prize for Romance Novels That No One in Portugal Has Ever Read!”
Mr. Pitfall can’t quite catch up. “What beloved queen?” he wonders.
“Does it matter which one? Look, here’s the prize!” she exfoliates. “It’s a CD of Lothar and the Hand People, all their greatest hits.”
Mr. Pitfall shakes his head. “I think those guys patched my back porch roof once, back around 1970,” he said. “But that’s all I can remember. It wasn’t a good decade for me: too many concussions.”
Violet is ecstatic. “This makes it all worth while!” she flibbers. “The pain, the sacrifice, the cruel indifference of the public, the mockery, the sleepless nights–
She sighs. “Let’s have more of those Crest egg-rolls,” she swanders.