Tag: silly romance novels

A Special Announcement from The Queen of Suspense

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For those of you who’ve been enjoying the saga of Oy, Rodney as it piles up chapters like a hoarder piles up newspapers and magazines, Ms. Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” has an important announcement to make.

“As everyone who’s been reading this epic romance knows,” she says, “Lady Margo Cargo’s childhood sweetheart has become, in the intervening 48 years, the Royal Millipede Inspector. He has also forgotten his name, it’s been so long since he used it!

“Here’s where you come in, dear reader. Or go out. What is the Millipede Inspector’s name? Coming up with it will be a contest for youse guys! I will actually use what I feel is the most apt name suggested by a reader. So the prize is a kind of literary immortality.”

Ms. Crepuscular vigorously rejects the allegation that she has run out of plot and is, as it were, simply treading water until she can think of something.

“Certain critics are never satisfied!” she declares. “These are no better than conflationists. Readers ought to shun them!”

Here are some millipedes to inspire you… if you’re the type who gets inspired by millipedes.

Millipedes - Control of Millipedes in the Home. | Kiwicare

Lady Margo’s Childhood Sweetheart (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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As fate would have it, the Royal Millipede Inspector is Lady Margo Cargo’s childhood sweetheart. He was hard to find because, through years of disuse, he has forgotten his name. Queen Victoria addresses him as “Hey, you!”

“This is crucial to the development of the plot,” explains our author, Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense. She does not explain how it’s crucial, nor are we at all sure, anymore, what the plot of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, is. Is this really Chapter DCLXXXXI?

Anyway, it’s been 48 years since Lady Margo last laid eyes on the dashing figure of a man who was to become the Royal Millipede Inspector and now looks something like a millipede himself.

Ms. Crepuscular digresses: “Ain’t life funny? They could’ve been happy together! The guy was all lined up to be a Navy officer when he got sidetracked into millipedes. And now he don’t even know his own name!” [We cannot account for the author’s grammatical lapses–The Editor.]

The publisher, we have heard, is offering a handsome prize to anyone who can take Oy, Rodney off his hands

Special Bonus Treat! The Lost ‘Oy, Rodney’ Episode

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(Who said “Shoulda stayed lost!”?)

Ha, ha, I got most of our Christmas stuff done over the last three days, so today I can rest! I might as well; I’m really tired.

But–! Here’s the episode of Oy, Rodney that had critics’ pants in a knot.

Bonus ‘Oy, Rodney’ Episode

Some deny that Violet Crepuscular ever wrote this. She does not deny it. “I’m the Queen of Suspense! I don’t have to remember things!” she exfoliates.

[This is as far as I go today, amigos. I am pooped. We’ll have our cyber-party here tomorrow, and you’re all invited. Bring incredibly expensive snacks!]

Oops! More Problems (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Introducing Chapter DCLXXXIX (“Don’t you just love Roman numerals!”) of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular, the Queen of Suspense, shows that she has not forgotten that Scurveyshire still lies under a curse pronounced by the medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney.

“It’s those singing millipedes,” she explains. “They are not what they seem!”

Indeed, they have invaded Bombo’s Bakery and devoured the wedding cakes–another obstacle to the impeding nuptials of Lord Jeremy Coldsore and Lady Margo Cargo.

Surprisingly, it’s Constable Chumley who has the insight here. “Yair, veevy millerpeeds dyne swick yon ferfel!” Now all they have to do is find a ferfel and put it to good use. Unfortunately, no one is quite sure what a ferfel is.

“As justice of the peace,” trumpets Lord Jeremy (without a trumpet), “I declare this day, December Whatever, as Find the Ferfel Day! Everyone, pitch in–unless you’d rather live with the racket those millipedes are making!” They have moved on from Anchors A-Weigh to Jimmy Crack Corn.

“It’s Rodney’s Curse!” Ms. Crepuscular declares.

She has not mentioned the guy from the collection agency who was run over by a truck and now is enshrined in the novel as Squire Gervais Pong. Chances are she’s already forgotten him.

Scurveyshire at Peace, Sort Of (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Somehow all of Scurveyshire’s most pressing problems went away while the author, Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, stayed in bed. June Taylor Dancers, rampaging rhinoceros, all that other stuff–now that we’re being pushed into Chapter DCLXXXVIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, it’s all given way to peace and quiet. “You can hear the millipedes sing,” writes Ms. Crepuscular. She’s out of bed now.

“I am sure many of you have noticed,” she writes, “that if you can duck certain problems long enough, they evaporate. Just poof, they’re gone! Like that lout from the collection agency who was bugging me so much. They said he got run over by a truck.”

This sets the stage, she explains, for the resumption of preparations for the wedding of Lady Margo Cargo and Lord Jeremy Coldsore.

Uh… How does some guy from the collection agency getting hit by a truck set the stage for a wedding in Scurveyshire?

“This is what I deal with all the time!” expostulates The Queen of Suspense. “People are determined not to understand what you mean! But I will not write down to their level! Pulitzer Prize committee be damned!”

Readers’ Letters to The Queen of Suspense (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, is sorry she threw open the door to readers’ suggestions for Chapter DCLXXXVI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. Here are a few samples smuggled out of the house before she could delete them. (“I am buying an alligator to guard my home at night!” she warns the public. “Break in at your own risk.”)

From Poona, Ohio: “Why don’t you write about that nice couple on the book cover? Six hundred chapters, and you ain’t giving them a wink!”

Yurm, England: “D’il a-crawly wip al yon leggety scramps!” This was the most unkindest cut of all.

Chakmalmez, Honduras: “There isn’t much romance in your romance! How about some scenes of torrid lovemaking?” (Violet replied to this one, “How about you go skydiving without a parachute?”)

Ongs Hat, New Jersey: “Keep it up, Violet! And while you’re at it, give us a couple of juicy murders, a genius sleuth to solve them, UFOs and aliens, and those things that look like pumpkins!”

Kizzuwatna, Asia Minor: “Go soak your head.”

Violet Crepuscular today is unavailable for comment. It was all we could do to get her to bed last night. Usually she stays up to watch wrestling; but after all those nasty notes and emails, it took a fair among of wrestling to calm her down. We are going to untie her this morning so she can write a little.

Lost! The Missing Executioner (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” has decided not to write Chapter DCLXXXIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. “It’s too complicated,” she explains. “Besides which, the Crown’s traveling executioner has gone missing–lost, somehow, on his way to Scurveyshire. This happened fairly often in those days.”

Meanwhile, for all the short time which they served as absolute rulers of the shire, the June Taylor Dancers still managed to repeal all the laws of Scurveyshire but were expelled to Tannu Tuva, in Central Asia, before they had any time to replace the laws.

“Isn’t that a fine mess?” laments Lord Jeremy Coldsore. “As justice of the peace, how am I to enforce the laws when there are no laws?” He is exasperated by the vicar, who keeps meowing for more cat food.

The disappearance of the executioner is a cause for concern. Willis Twombley, the American adventurer, has raised a dozen pesetas with which to bribe the executioner: it is known that this official prefers Spanish money. “What do I do with all these pesetas?” Twombley asks rhetorically. “They won’t take ’em in The Lying Tart. I wish I’d never fed the vicar all that cat food!”

“We are now,” Ms. Crepuscular reminds her readers, “in Chapter DCLXXXV of my epic romance, Oy, Rodney. The next chapter, DCLXXXVI, I throw open to suggestions from the readers. What happens next? You, dear readers, must decide!” [Editor resigns in frustration, vows to have no more to do with any form of literature.]

Feeding Your Vicar Cat Food (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” prepares to launch Chapter DCLXXXIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, with these few words to the reader.

“Imagine how different the whole world would have been,” she aviates, “had Parliament not passed a law forbidding the feeding of cat food to members of the clergy! I for one can’t imagine it! In fact, I think I’d better go lie down.”

We can only speculate on what she would have or might have written this weekend, had she been up to it. Dog-walker Eileen Spelunky of Baldy, Wisconsin, thinks she has the answer.

“But I ain’t tellin’,” she asserts: “not unless I git $500.”

We know what’s wrong with Ms. Crepuscular: all those toothpaste sandwich cookies going to bed, not to mention washing it down with maple syrup. It makes me woozy, just to think about it.

Meanwhile, we have not been told how far the traveling executioner has yet to go to reach Scurveyshire. Willis Twombley is sure he can bribe him to drop the case. “I wouldn’t of given the vicar no cat food,” he explains, “only he kept meowing for it.”

[I’m sorry, that does it–a lie-down for me, too!]

Confessions of Willis Twombley (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” addresses her legions and multitudes of readers: “Legions over there, multitudes, there. Please stand at attention.

“If you have been following my epic romance, Oy, Rodney, as assiduously as you should, you will surely be expecting, any chapter now, the long-delayed wedding of Lord Jeremy Coldsore–either as himself or as Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad–and Lady Margo Cargo.

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer. Something’s come up!”

Thus she introduces Chapter DCLXXXI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. 

Lady Margo believes Lord Jeremy and Mr. Twombley are the same person. This is why the vicar went mad: he was going to have to officiate at the wedding.

But now, suddenly, Twombley has a change of heart, an awakening: some secrets can only be kept for so long. “Then they blow up!” asserts Ms. Crepuscular. In this case, it was Twombley’s neighbor’s hen house that blew up.

“There’s some things I gotta confess to you and Lady Margo, Germy, old boy! First, I’m not really Sargon of Akkad. That’s just a disguise to scare off the Babylonians. Second, I’ve already wed three wives. Third, if I try to say that last sentence really fast, I get tongue-tied. Fourth, I’ve shot some people that maybe I shouldn’t have. And fifth, I been feedin’ the vicar cat food on the sly, and it’s my fault he now thinks he’s a cat!”

The rest of the list, we are warned, doesn’t bear repeating.

I think I’ll go lie down.

The Royal Wading Pool Inspector (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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

Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” introduces Chapter DCLXXIX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. Feel free to skip this if it’s too suspenseful.

“If you thought the vicar’s notorious backyard wading pool has stopped sucking unwary passers-by into its unknown depths,” she addresses her multitude of readers, “think again! Queen Victoria’s government–the queen herself has other things to do–has sent the Royal Backyard Wading Pool Inspector to take a closer look. It may be some executions are in order.”

We do not know the name of this inspector: he was sucked under the pool before he got a chance to introduce himself.

In his capacity of justice of the peace, Lord Jeremy Coldsore appeals to the vicar. “When are you going to let us empty that pool and get rid of it?” he demands. “Meow,” says the vicar. (Great line! I wish I’d written it.) He is currently under the impression that he’s a cat. No help there.

“They’re gonna send the army next,” opines the American adventurer, Willis Twombley, who thinks he is Sargon of Akkad. “And after that,” he adds, “the Babylonians will invade us.”

“Has it slipped everybody’s mind that Lady Margo and I are to be married?” cries Lord Jeremy. He is trying to hide the fact that it had completely slipped his mind. Lady Margo Cargo is not amused. She has just had her wooden leg polished for the ceremony.

“Be sure to be on hand next week,” writes Ms. Crepuscular, “for the exciting climax of this latest crisis!”

Promises, promises…