The Sorcerer’s Descendant (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Introducing Chapter CDLXX (“cud licks,” for those who just don’t get Roman numerals) of her epic romance, Oy Rodney,  Violet Crepuscular writes, “Introducing Chapter CDLXX of my epic romance, Oy Rodney, I pose a tantalizing question to you, dear reader!” Then she goes on for several pages, having forgotten to pose her question.

We have left Willis Twombley, who think he’s Sargon of Akkad, fulminating over some mystery man named “Charlie” in Lady Margo Cargo’s life. (“It is too complicated to explain!” Ms. Crepuscular insists.) But turn we now unto Mr. Bigcheeks, lineal descendant of the medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney.

One of the ways you used to be able to tell a witch or sorcerer was, they had these unearthly beings hanging out with them. These were called “familiars,” and if you were caught with one, your goose was cooked–and so were you.

Mr. Bigcheeks does not know he is directly descended from Black Rodney. He does not know that the strange creature dwelling in the basement of his hovel is his familiar. He thinks it’s Mickey Mouse.

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It is not a profitable use of one’s time to argue with Ms. Crepuscular about Mickey Mouse not existing in the Victorian Era. She calls that argument “a hypofloxin that would hardly do credit to a sleep-deprived mameluke.”

Anyway, Mickey has promised to make Mr. Bigcheeks king of England if he can find and resuscitate the mummy of Black Rodney himself. Mr. Bigcheeks thinks it might be under the wading pool in the vicar’s back yard.

But that way lies madness. And that’s if you’re lucky.

In Search of Mr. Bigcheeks’ Roots (‘Oy, Rodney’)

silly romance novels – Lee Duigon

[Editor’s Note: This chapter is especially for Phoebe; may it put a smile on her face. No, Violet, it’s not necessary to send her any toothpaste rolls.]

Introducing Chapter CDLXVIII (is there a chapter missing?) of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular delves into Mr. Bigcheeks’ past. “I find it needful to delve into Mr. Bigcheeks’ past,” she confides in her vast multitude of readers. “As the lineal descendant of the medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney, Mr. Bigcheeks has deep roots in Scurveyshire–by way of Czechoslovakia.” Okay, now we get it.

Some of Mr. Bigcheeks’ roots are in his back yard, where they connect to a stand of famished-looking oak trees. Ms. Crepuscular provides us with an Identikit picture of Mr. Bigcheeks, courtesy of the Prague police:

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In 1186 Lord Jrstvelo Bigcheeks, fleeing from a Bohemian collection agency, settled in Scurveyshire and bought a cottage made famous by Shakespeare. His son Rodney, born in 1187, showed early promise of becoming a great sorcerer by turning a toad into a frog. After that came nothing but trouble.

When Black Rodney, as he came to be called, mysteriously vanished in 1233, there were no more Bigcheeks family members to be found until 1796, when our current Mr. Bigcheeks’ father, Leo Durocher, mysteriously appeared to carry on the Bigcheeks line in Scurveyshire. He had to leave when he organized a croquet match using exploding balls. His son, Archibald Bigcheeks, now occupies the cottage.

“So far,” fulminates Ms. Crepuscular, “Archibald Bigcheeks is known only for his penchant for lurid family picnics in the unmapped fringe of Scurveyshire Forest. He has forgotten that he has a plan to take over Western Europe. But! As the Queen of Suspense, I pose the question… Will it stay forgotten?”

What are the odds that she’ll get around to writing about it?

The Return of Black Rodney (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Mrs. Arthur Bolgani, a reader living in the basement of Bob’s Ping-Pong Emporium in Yuggoth, Kansas, has written to Violet Crepuscular: “What about the medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney? The one who put all those curses on Scurveyshire. You never write about him anymore!”

“Everyone’s a critic,” writes Ms. Crepuscular, introducing Chapter CDLXVI of her immortal romance novel, Oy, Rodney. She’s trying to conceal the fact that she has forgotten all about Rodney. It’s been several hundred pages since his name’s been mentioned.

“What no one in Scurveyshire knows,” she continues flosticating, “is that Mr. Bigcheeks is the direct descendant of Black Rodney, twice removed (once to Czechoslovakia), and his family picnics in the forest are only the first step in a scheme to take over all of Western Europe from Cornwall to the Oder-Niesse Line!”

But does Mr. Bigcheeks know he has this plan? Can’t the poor guy just enjoy a picnic with his family? Indeed, the unexpected discovery of his presence in the woods has saved Lady Margo and Willis Twombley from being hopelessly lost and probably dying of starvation and exposure. From the Bigcheeks’ picnic basket to the edge of the wood is only some 25 feet.

“We’re saved!” exults Lady Margo. She tosses her wig into the air. It gets caught in a tree.