Tag: royal millipede inspector

The Millepede Inspector Goes Native (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

In case you have ever wondered how there came to be a district in Portugal inhabited by Picts and devoted to millipede husbandry… well, I guess now you know.

Having forgotten his own name, the Royal Millipede Inspector, after his mostly accidental abduction by the Picts, has married the daughter of the Pictish chief and taken on a Pictish name: Jackie Fernandez.

“You wouldn’t believe the flak I’ve gotten over this name!” Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” confides in her numberless legion of readers. “This is Chapter DCCVIII of my immortal romance masterpiece, Oy, Rodney–and suddenly I don’t know how to name a character??? Sheesh! If they all know how to write so good, why ain’t they doing it–eh?!”

Heap Millipedes Photos and Images | Shutterstock

(From Clint Eastwood’s A Fistful of Millipedes)

“Now another self-proclaimed Expert out there tells me these are not millipedes but mealworms! O wretched woman that I am!” crinculates Ms. Crepuscular. We cannot but agree. “You would think a Royal Millipede Inspector would know millipedes from mealworms. If not by sight, then by taste.”

We are not anxious to follow her into this particular byway in the plot.

To Pict or Not to Pict (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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[Editor’s Note: Yes, I’m running late. Computer wasn’t about to do my bidding. My spirit is tired.]

Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, has blamed her readers for unleashing a Pictish invasion of Scurveyshire. Introducing Chapter DCLXXXXVII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Ms. Crepuscular writes:

“Well, I hope you’re happy! I throw open the Doors of Creativity, inviting my readership to provide a name for the Royal Millipede Inspector, Lady Margo Cargo’s lost love–and hardly anybody applies!! Whatever those Picts do to Scurveyshire, it’s your fault!”

But she is distracted by a reminder that today is The Super Bowl and she needs to whip up a batch of Super Bowl cookies. Suddenly a barbarian invasion seems like pretty small potatoes.

“This year’s Super Bowl cookies,” Violet mumbles, “feature not one but two layers of toothpaste between highly salted Ritz crackers. Double your pleasure!” She has not yet seen the millipede colony burgeoning in the remotest regions of her kitchen. “Julia Child never had millipedes!” she will cry, once she discovers she has something to cry about.

And so romance gives way to Pictish barbarity, which in turn gives way to blanking football… and by and by we will sample Violet’s double-toothpaste cookies.

The Royal Millipede Inspector, Continued (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, is angry with her readers (No, I will not add, snidely, “What, all four of them?”). Having invited them to name the Royal Millipede Inspector, who incidentally is Lady Margo Cargo’s long-lost love, Ms. Crepuscular was offended by the tepid response among her readers.

“I have a good mind to delete him from Oy, Rodney,” she says, introducing Chapter DCLXXXXV of her epic romance. “By gum, the millipede inspector who comes to my house doesn’t belong in any romance! But this tragic figure, this man who has forgotten his own name, whose only interest in life is millipedes, this poor jidrool who once vowed undying love to Margo Cargo when he saw her, as a little girl, catching and eating tadpoles, this pure tottering wreck of a man–oh, the music he and Margo could have made together!” He plays the spoons. Lady Margo plays the comb and paper.

(Nothing has happened in this novel for three weeks.)

But what’s this we hear? Can it be true? Oh, forsooth, we heard it clearly this time.

The Picts are coming! The Picts are coming!

It’s been 1,700 years since this last happened, give or take a few.

Looks like Scurveyshire is in for a blow!