Tag: silly romance novels

The Private Life of Violet Crepuscular (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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From July 2, 2023

a gripping page-turner headed for the top of the NY Times bestseller list | Romance novels, Funny romance, Book parody

“My private, personal life,” writes Violet Crepuscular, preparing to burrow into Chapter DCXLIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, “is almost as passionate and exciting as the lives of my various characters in my epic romance, Oy, Rodney.” [Editorial comment: Oh, do shut up!]

“Even as I plotted the eruption of Mt. Scurveyshire,” she continues, despite protests, “I was being courted by my neighbor Mr. Pitfall’s evil but incredibly dashing cousin, Mr. Stinky. He is on leave from somewhere. He read my latest chapter and immediately proposed marriage to me!” [“Honestly, your honor, I had no idea how absolutely awful this book would be before I published some of it…”]

Ms. Crepuscular continues, rather like a tank rolling over weakly-defended trenches: “At this point I was considering having the hibernating rhino wake up and run amok; but in order to keep the suspense going, I’ve put it off. Instead, we are going to go to The Lying Tart and see what that ritual poking business is about.” For a more detailed explanation, she turns to Constable Chumley.

“Fthairvin, yodz, I habna raickle shifft!” “No one says it better!” chimes in Ms. Crepuscular. “Is that suspense, or what!”

We are unable to confirm or refute a rumor that William Shatner has agreed to reprise his old Star Trek role, Captain Kirk, if they ever make a movie out of Oy, Rodney. Johnno the Merry Minstrel says it’s a sure thing… but who can believe a fictional character?

Violet Crepuscular’s Fan Mail (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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Lord of the tube socks | Romance novels, Funny romance, Book humor

From January 31, 2021

Introducing Chapter CDI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular takes a break from the plot and inserts extractions from some of her fan mail. She is hampered in this exercise by an inability to read. Otherwise she would never have let some of these letters see the light of day.

“It’s not that I can’t read at all,” she hastens to explain. “It’s just that I can’t read stuff that people write.” We are glad she’s cleared that up. “Fan mail,” she adds, “proves that you’ve got readers.”

From Cindy Indy, Rawalpindi: “Dear Ms. Crepuscular, your novel proves to be an effective decay-preventive dentifrice when used in a program of conscientious oral hygiene and regular professional care.”

Ozzie Spore, New York: “Your book is the only thing that keeps me living.”

Ms. June Spumoni, Bad Axe, Michigan: “My pet emu bit and kicked me after I lined his cage with pages from your wretched novel.”

Tom Popocatepetl, Jurassic Park, Hawaii: “How do you spell your name?”

“I have taken some flak for the elegant way in which I got rid of the monsters that had overrun Scurveyshire,” Ms. Crepuscular confides in her readers. She has run out of fan mail and needs to fill the rest of the chapter somehow. Harking back to her days in grade school, she writes in longhand, 100 times, “I must not waste paper.”

Violet Crepuscular: A Living Legend REPRINT

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

We are  coming up on the climax of Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance–over 700 chapters so far–and it seems the conclusion of the saga cannot be more than a few light-years away.

How will the story be wrapped up? Lord Jeremy Coldsore marries Lady Margo Cargo, and their first child looks suspiciously like a chicken… The Royal Millipede Inspector is rescued from the Picts… Small, creepy dinosaurs infest Coldsore Hall… Man, how will the epic romance end?

Ms. Crepuscular has achieved a literary monsterpiece. She has already been nominated for the Beef-Boy Kollowski Award. (The person who nominated her has since gone into hiding.) She has appeared as a guest in Mr. Pitfall’s back yard. Fame is just around the corner!

Ms Crepuscular admits that regardless of how or where or when she finishes her novel, there are bound to be loose ends left hanging. “This is how you achieve realism!” she pulusticates. “Holy moly, the loose ends left in my own life–you could paper the walls with them. I’m still trying to find out whether I ever graduated high school!”

With honors, we’ll bet.

Alas, Mr. Pudding! OY RODNEY, REPRINT

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

From March 2, 2025

We expected great things from Mr. Pudding and His Newts. Violet Crepuscular, the Queen of Suspense, had promised them to us! Sort of, at least.

But as we enter Chapter DCCCXXXI (or whatever–ask me if I care), we are informed that Mr. Pudding has been trodden underfoot by the stampeding mammoths, and then picked up and eaten by the Cyclops.

Meanwhile, we have a letter from one of our readers… a Mrs. Hobbity Smith from Fort Mange, North Dakota [sound of envelope being torn open].. I’ll read it for you.

“Dear Ms. Crepuscular, Whoever you are–

“Your misbegotten novel, Oy, Rodney, once seemed likely to blossom into great things. It was wonderful! But I’m afraid the last hundred chapters or so would have turned out better if they’d been written by monkeys.

“I challenge you, I dare you, to write one–just one!–reasonable, entertaining, and coherent chapter of this so-called romance. Ye gods, how many chapters has it been since the title character, “Rodney,” was even mentioned?”

That’s as far as I’m going to read. It really is a very harsh letter. I am told Ms. Crepuscular’s mother used to write even nastier letters to all sorts of people who weren’t expecting them.

How do we keep Violet from seeing Mrs. Hobbity Smith’s letter? That could wind up in a duel!

Violet Crepuscular: ‘I Have No Ideas!’ (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

From September 29, 2024

Sooner or later it comes to every writer (with the notable exception of Edgar Rice Burroughs): that conviction of utter hopelessness, that inability to write another word. We call it “Maria.”

Everything is set up for Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, to embark on Chapter DCCXLIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. The June Taylor Dancers are lurking in the woods around Scurveyshire. Lord Jeremy has his 20-pound accordion. {“Does it weigh 20 pounds, did it cost 20 pounds, or both?” we hear you ask.) Mr. Pudding has organized his newts.

And there’s poor Violet, stuck in neutral.

“A Greek fortune-teller told me this would happen!” she confides in her rapidly diminishing host of readers. “How told me in great detail how to avoid it; but I don’t speak Greek, so I didn’t understand a word of it.”

The publisher is thinking of bringing in a ghost writer, but that would require a seance.

“I have to break through!” Ms. Crepuscular agonizes. “There must be dozens of readers waiting tensely for my next chapter!” Will the newts run wild? Will the June Taylor Dancers dance to Lord Jeremy’s tune? Has the evil medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney, come back to stay? Is the theater really dead?

[Advice to Violet: You need an agent, kiddo. Binky Fong Associates is looking for new authors to introduce to a largely Manchurian audience. Tell ’em A Guy sent you.]

Johnno’s Injury (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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From September 22, 2019

Before we look into Chapter CCCXVIII of Violet Crespuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, we have a note from the author.

“Dear Reader,” she writes, “as you know, I have acquired a pet clam named Farfel. I plan to build a new aquarium specially tailored to his needs. I wanted to show you the plan, but someone at the temple ate my template.” She pauses slyly. “Voila!” she exults. “Another crepuscularity!” Just what we needed.

Moving on, Johnno the Merry Minstrel is doing his best to become an oracle, but thanks to a careless remark by Lord Jeremy Coldsore, he insists on doing it while standing on his head. “I think it’ll work better, my lord, if I can play my harmonica while I’m doing it,” he confides in Lord Jeremy.

“By all means, my man, by all means,” replies Jeremy.

Surmounting several acute difficulties, Johnno succeeds in executing a head-stand and begins to recite an oracular pronouncement while playing his harmonica. This is not as easy as it looks.

“The vicar’s gol-darned wading pool–” he begins.

“Gol-darned?” wonders Jeremy. “What kind of word is that for an oracle?”

Distracted by the interruption, Johnno accidentally swallows his harmonica and tumbles down the stairs. Jeremy chases after him.

“Johnno! Johnno! Are you all right?”

Johnno tries to answer, but all that will come out is some rather feeble musical notes.

Meanwhile, Willis Twombley, the American adventurer, repairs to Ye Olde Shoppe of Curious Curios to buy axolotls. “I’ll take half a dozen of ’em,” he tells the proprietor, Mr. Twittle. He waves his six-shooter for emphasis. The other shoppers dive for cover.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” says Mr. Twittle, cringing, “but we’re fresh out of axolotls. Someone came in yesterday and bought them all.”

Twombley is abashed. “Who was the varmint that did that?” he demands.

“The Wise Woman of the Woods, sir! Said she wanted ’em for axolotl pudding.”

Twombley senses some dark purpose at work…

Here Ms. Crepuscular breaks for a new chapter, not yet written. “I do this to heighten the suspense,” she explains. “Toothpaste sandwich cookies, anyone? I’ve made a new batch!”

Keeping Up With Violet Crepuscular REPRINT

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

From July 20, 2025

All right! Who here thinks it’s easy to keep up with Violet Crepuscular and her hysterical romance, Oy, Rodney? Bang your head on the table if it’s you.

She blames it all on me, of course. “You call yourselves an editor? Pfaah!

“Yeah, okay,” she admits: “I’m the one who brought in the June Taylor Dancers and the woolly mammoths. I didn’t know they were going to dry up your brain! Sheesh, I thought you were going to use them! Serves me right for thinking I oughtta has an editor.”

[My reply: “Ah, Violet, Violet! They should’ve named you Venus Flytrap.

3,400+ Venus Flytrap Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty-Free ... ((Picture of Venus Flytrap, with fly.))

“I have raised you from obscurity, and you bite me in the tuchas! Now we have 500-plus chapters of drivel. And it’s not my fault! Again and again you have ignored my editorial suggestions. And this is what happens! Find yourself another editor.”]

She tried to have me arrested, but there is no law in the UK against quitting an impossible editorial job. But I found a note taped to my door.

“Your days they are numbered! Prepare to be Doomed!”

How do you prepare to be doomed?

 

‘Take THAT, Ms. Crepuscular!’ REPRINT

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

From August 17, 2025

Ha-ha-ha! Poetic justice returns to the Internet. The bad guy gets dunked in dirty water. And Violet Crepuscular gets beaned–all’s right with the world!

You may remember Ms. Crepuscular challenging her readers to provide hints of a massive do-over of her immortal romance, Oy, Rodney. Here are a few examples.

Pooba City, OK: “Aw, shut up already!”

K’smagge, Eurasia: “Do we get a prize for reading this?”

Imago Humana, New Jersey: “There’s a guy in Piscataway who writes better than you do–and he’s locked up!”

Bisstong, Rumania: “I learn English for this?”

Despite her protestations that “most” readers are positively crazy about her work, we’ve got her number. You can run, Violet, but you can’t hide!

INTERRUPTION: What? You wonder what happened to Mr Pinball? No, he has not been dunked in dirty water. To say nothing of Willis Twombley, or Lord Whatsisname (the one with the big house).

You’ve got it bad, kimosabe. Try to find a health hot line.

Appointment With Doom! (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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Pin by Ross Johnston on totally judging books by their covers | Book humor, Book parody, Romance novels

From August 29, 2021

Squeaky-toy madness has gripped all Scurveyshire! You can’t hear yourself think, and even the dogs can’t stand it anymore. Worse, questions are being asked in Parliament. “There still is a Scurveyshire? It wasn’t wiped out in the Wars of the Roses?” And the always popular, “What the deuce is wrong with those people?”

Chapter CDXL of Violet Crepuscular’s interminable epic romance, Oy, Rodney, promises to be a turbulent one. And on top of all that, Ms. Crepuscular is thinking of adapting it into a Broadway musical. “I may have to find a way to pull the substitute vicar from Zanzibar out from under the regular vicar’s backyard wading pool,” she gravitates to her readers. “But hey, as long as you’re going to have a stageful of squeaky toys, you might as well take advantage of the music that they make.”

We have a sneak preview, right here, of one of the most popular squeaky toys now being squeaked by everyone in Scurveyshire:

“I have never heard anything so beautiful!” rhapsodizes Ms. Crepuscular. “No wonder the caecilians–” (I thought she’d forgotten those, but no such luck)–“are stirred up all over the tropics: stirred up to go to Scurveyshire!” We are not told why these secretive, little-known amphibians should be irresistibly drawn to the sound of squeaky toys.

“But take a good look around your house!” counsels Mr. Crepuscular. “If you have a dog, you probably have two or three squeaky toys. And where there are squeaky toys, you’ll find caecilians! Well, I mean, you can try to find them. They’re always hiding.”

Children’s Letters to Ms. Violet REPRINT

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Making fun of romance novels. Genius! | Book humor, Romance novels ...

From July 22, 2020

Due to circumstances entirely beyond our control, we were unable to present our weekly update of Violent Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney. Ms. Crepuscular has contacted us and rebuked us with what she has described as “an avalanche of an outpouring of support from the children of the world.” We did not know children were reading Oy, Rodney.

Here are three quotes from three letters. They are intended to make me feel guilty.

From Daisy Hokus, Brzwirdzjeczow, Eastern Europe: “My daddy is sad all the time, but when he reads Oy Rodney he is happy and runs all over the house singing and dancing. You must write more Oy Rodney to make him happy. I am 3 years old.”

From Randy Pokus, Ongs Hat, New Jersey: “Our teacher Ms. Typhus yells at us all the time and makes us scared only when she reads Oy Roddny by Vilet Crepustular she doesn’t yell at us anymore she just giggles!”

From Hector Vechter, Harpoon Harbor, Alaska: “Our family is very poor and when winter comes we have to sleep outside because nobody likes us but when we have some Oy Rodney to read it is better than food, better than warm clothes, so you can just imagine how deprived we felt when we didn’t get any.”

There is, says Ms. Crepuscular, “a whole wheelbarrowful of these letters” and I had better just watch out or the world’s children will be coming after me with pitchforks and torches.

Meanwhile, the literary agent who first discovered her has been put to death by the literary agents’ guild.