Tag: silly romance novels

The June Taylor Dancers to the Rescue! (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

Well, it looks like she’s got the Roman numerals straightened out. That brings us up to Chapter DCLXII (whatever that is) of her immortal epic romance, Oy, Rodney.

You knew she’d come up with a way to stop that rampaging rhino, didn’t you? But you never would’ve guessed how she would do it. You thought it was going to be Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad. But he’s still counting his bullets.

Out of nowhere, when all hope seems to be lost, and the doom of Scurveyshire assured…Enter the June Taylor Dancers!

460 June Taylor Dancers Stock Photos, High-Res Pictures, and Images - Getty Images

Who knew this would happen? You need a berserk rhinoceros kicked out of town, who better to do it than the June Taylor Dancers?

It’s touches like this that make Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” one of a kind. Maybe even less than one of a kind.

It’s useless to argue with her. “Some of you will sneer, some of you will jeer, and I don’t wanna hear!” She writes, introducing the chapter. “It’s called poetic license–or something. But what do you mugs know about it?”

We are glad to see Oy, Rodney back on track. [Lightning bolt just misses editor.]

‘Oy, Rodney’: The Saga

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There’s a rampaging rhino on the loose in Scurveyshire, but not to worry–Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen of Suspense,” is back on the job, back to her laser-like focus on the plot.

Introducing Chapter DCXLXI (or whatever it is) of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Ms. Crepuscular addresses her readers directly.

“I am back on target!” she declares. “Yes, my lords and ladies, I have learned ny lesson! No more long, drawn-out digressions on that poop of a baby-sitter that I had when I was six. Nor will I venture into politics, or offer resolutions to burning social issues. From now on, it’s Plot, Plot, Plot! Just like an Icelandic saga–didja ever read one of those? There’s this saga about some guy named Egil, or Harvey, or something…”

[Editor runs screaming to the sidewalk.]

By now the angry rhinoceros has made a shambles of Scurveyshire’s Museum of Agricultural Implements. Charged with stopping the unstoppable conquering beast, Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad, is still loading his six-gun.

“Better hurry up,” says Johnno the Merry Minstrel, “or there’ll be nothing in this town worth saving.”

“You made me lose count of the bullets!” grumbles Twombley.

[Yes, she stopped writing here. No, I don’t know why.]

How Doom Didn’t Come to Scurveyshire (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Introducing Chapter DCXLXI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular, “The Queen Of Suspense,” takes some time to denounce a baby-sitter she once had.

“She was only 16 at the time,” writes Ms. Crepuscular, “but she was already headed for a life of crime, vice, and torpor! I can’t tell what my parents were thinking of, going out and leaving me alone with that woman! I was only six, how could I defend myself?”

[The editor sighs as he reads the long list of grievances against young Violet’s baby-sitter.]

There’s a homicidal rhinoceros on the loose in Scurveyshire, but we don’t think Ms. Crepuscular is going to get to it this week. She just keeps carrying on about that baby-sitter–whom she refuses to name.

“Trust me, you’d know this name if you heard it!” she writes. “In fact, you may have even once admired this appalling person. ‘Look what she’s achieved!’ you’ll say. To which I must reply, ‘Villains! Dissemble no more!'” She has been reduced to stealing a line from The Tell-Tale Heart.

We will try to get her back on track with the plot by next week.

We do not know what brought up the subject of the baby-sitter in the first place.

 

Doom Comes to Scurveyshire (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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“The time has come,” writes The Queen of Suspense, Violet Crepuscular, introducing Chapter DCXLX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, “for us to spelunk into the darker regions of Rodney’s Curse, where doom will come to Scurveyshire and adjoining hamlets in the winsome English countryside.” [Editor: “I quit!” He is not sure the Roman numerals make sense.]

Scurveyshire’s rogue rhinoceros has just knocked down and trampled Bysmal’s Pyjama Emporium and fled away with nightclothes streaming from its horns. “I have included the above video,” Ms. Crepuscular writes, “so that readers with sheltered lives will have some feel for what the people of Scurveyshire have to contend with. And all because of a curse pronounced some six centuries ago!” Or whenever.

Charged with getting rid of the rhino before it depopulates the shire, Johnno the Merry Minstrel pops into The Lying Tart for a nip of ale and some discreet poking. The town’s most prominent citizens have joined the secret poking ring. “Between this and the rhino,” Johnno muses, “it looks like our number’s up.”

“Do not despair, loyal readers!” adds Ms. Crepuscular. “In ancient times there was Beowulf to save a troubled kingdom. Now there is the American hero, Willis Twombley!” We did not notice when Twombley was promoted to Hero.Let’s hope he can handle it.

Hellzapoppin! (‘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

“The hibernating rhinoceros awoke with vengeance in its heart.”

No author can do very wrong by opening a chapter, a story, or a novel with a sentence like that above, penned by Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense. She then wades into a lengthy introduction of Chapter DCXLIX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. (I must add that if Silas Marner had featured some sentences like that, I wouldn’t have been so averse to it in high school. A hibernating rhino would be a definite improvement.)

As it happens, Scurveyshire’s hibernating rhinoceros has indeed awakened, and torn its cocoon to shreds, and embarks on a rampage that detracts from Constable Chumley’s  investigation of a ritualistic poking ring that convenes in the back room of The Lying Tart. Alarmed by this sudden rush of events, Lord Jeremy Coldsore appoints Johnno the Merry Minstrel acting constable pro tem. They had to catch him first.

“I want that rampaging beast dealt with and that ritualized poking stopped!” says Lord Jeremy. “If you think you’re not up to the job… well, pretend! No one will know you’re only pretending to enforce the law.”

Johnno is not sure there is a law against ritual poking.

As for the rhinoceros, an ear-splitting bellow from behind the barn suggests a clear and present danger…

And she stops there??? That’s not “suspense”! That’s just shilly-shallying! I’m not even sure a rhino can bellow. Has she ever heard one?

An Apocalypse of Poking (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Introducing Chapter DCXLVIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular, “the Queen of Suspense,” gets what she describes as “a shirty letter” from a reader in “that notorious pest-hole,” Bazooka Hills, New Jersey.

“If you stopped with those stupid introductions already, the book’d be only half as long as it is,” writes Bella Oxmix.

“If you stopped breathing you’d be a better person!” snaps Ms. Crepuscular.

Meanwhile poor Constable Chumley, trying to get the goods on the ritualized poking ring supposedly meeting in the back room of The Lying Tart, has caught sight of a picture of himself in his disguise as a ghost; and having forgotten it is only himself with a blanket over him, has had to be hospitalized for a massive panic attack. (Go ahead, I dare you to diagram that sentence!)

This has not comforted the author.

“I’ll fix that Bella Whatsit!” Ms Crepuscular vows. “Wait’ll I bring that rhino out of hibernation! Guess who’ll be the first ne’er-do-well to be impaled on its horn!”

I heard about a movie once, I think the title was Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. It is said Ms. Crepuscular has memorized the entire screenplay.

The End of All Decency (‘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

“Gotcha with that title, didn’t I!” snickers Violet Crepuscular, introducing Chapter DCXLVII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. “Well, that’s how I won my spurs–” spurs? Is Roy Rogers here?–“as the Queen of Suspense! And one of the great secret techniques of ‘suspense’ is to deceive the reader!” Not a secret anymore, though, is it?

Constable Chumley, now disguised as a ghost–really, it was much too hot inside that deep-sea diving helmet–continues to “haunt” (ha-ha!) The Lying Tart, trying to get the goods on the ritualistic poking ring rumored to meet in the pub’s back room. With the sheet over him, patrons give the constable a wide berth. Too bad he forgot to cut out eye-holes. “Aft yon burrdin cligh,” he explains.

She has forgotten about the rhinoceros in the cocoon behind the chicken coop. It seems wiser not to remind her.

Meanwhile, a reader named Mrs. Panty, from Dixieville, Manchuria, asks the question that we’ve all been asking: “What the heck is ‘ritualized poking’?”

Alas, Ms. Crepuscular is not yet ready to divulge that information. “I still haven’t found words to describe it, it’s just that awful!” she admits.

The Poking Scandal (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Still in a lather over those smart-aleck comments from a reader in Kunjo Korners, Kansas, Violet Crepuscular, “the Queen of Suspense,” introducing Chapter DCXLV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, loses the thread of the sentence and has to start over.

“I am introducing Chapter DCXLV of my epic romance, Oh, Rodney,” she writes, “but I am sorely tempted to roust my friend and neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, out of the Intensive Care Unit so he can drive me out to Kunjo Korners to settle with that so-called reader! She thinks poking, being poked, is nothing? Wait’ll I poke her one!”

Somewhere in the novel, Constable Chumley has gone undercover to investigate reports of ritual poking in the back room of The Lying Tart. It is necessary to wear a disguise. This week he is disguised as a deep-sea diver. With the helmet. He’ll need it if he ever tries to force his way into that back room.

“Yes, I know, I know!” Ms. Crepuscular writes. “I still have to write that rhino out of hibernation. I’ve also got to trim my hedge and take down my Halloween decorations before it’s time to put them up again. I’ll get to it! Stop bugging me!”

By Popular Demand, ‘Oy, Rodney’

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Violet Crepuscular, the Queen of Suspense, addresses her colossal fan base… leaving the editor wondering what happened to Chapter DCXLIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney.

“I know, I know, I promised to investigate the ritual poking in the back room at The Lying Tart,” she writes. “But first we must ask WHY my latest installment did not appear on Sunday. I don’t buy those ‘Computer failed me!’ stories.” Sorry, but those are the excuses that we have. There are no others.

Ms Crepuscular admits that ritual poking is of serious concern, hence Constable Chumley’s presence at the scene. “He has had to go undercover,” she writes. “The patrons at The Tart think he’s a ghost and give him a wide berth. From time to time he hears sounds of poking emanating from the back room. So naturally he asks the landlord: ‘Yeerth, mon, gweel me threeds?’ You can easily imagine the reaction he gets for that!”

Ms. Crepuscular is also trying to cope with an insolent reader from Kunjo Korners, Kansas. “Dear Ms. Crepuscular,” this person says, “does ‘suspense’ means ‘nothing freakin’ happens’? Can’t we have a tidal wave, a civil war, a passionate affair–something? Anything? It’s gotta be better than a super-volcano that just burps once and then dies!”

Having read this completely unfair criticism, Ms. Crepuscular has retired to her bed with a tin of toothpaste brownies.

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

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“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?