We Bury the Plot, and Move On Fortunately as things reached this juncture, a cloud passed between them and the sun. Upon closer inspection, they observed the cloud to be the shadow of a man: a minister of great height, eating a banana, which he absently put in his ear. He looked down upon them with a genial eye and boomed down from above: “WELL, WELL, WELL, WHAT HAVE WE HERE? SPEAKING IN THE STREET, EH? AND WHO, MAY I ASK, IS THE LUCKY MAN?” Snort glanced at the flattened Seminarian, but he wasn’t moving. “Ah believe, Sir, that would be me, Sir.” “SPEAK UP MAN! DON’T BE FRIGHTENED!” Snort backed away three steps, reared on his hind legs, measured the distance between his mouth and the man’s ear, and belted out: “AH, THAT WOULD BE ME, SIR!” All stood waiting. There was a moment of awkwardness as Snort fell heavily to the earth.
When the tremors had passed, the heroine shouted: “There must be a mistake! I don’t plan to marry anyone until the end of the book!” The minister’s brow darkened. The banana trembled in his ear, and his voice rolled out like a bolt of thunder: “MY DEAR, IF YOU HOPE TO BE THE HEROINE OF A RELIGIOUS ROMANCE, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE WILLING TO PUT ASIDE YOUR RUPLES!” “AH BELIEVE YOU MEAN SCRUPLES!” Snort screamed, from his semi recumbent posture. “EXCUSE ME YOUNG MAN, I CAN’T HEAR YOU—I SEEM TO HAVE A BANANA IN MY EAR. BUT LET ME ADDRESS MYSELF TO THIS YOUNG WOMAN: YOUNG WOMAN, A CORK IN THE ROAD IS BEFORE YOU. ON THE RIGHT HAND—YOUR LEFT—LIES THE BEATEN PATH OF THE CHRISTIAN ROMANCE. ON THE OTHER HAND—YOUR RIGHT, MY LEFT—LIES THE MORDID PATH OF REALITY. WHICH WILL IT BE: MY RIGHT OR YOUR LEFT?” “SORDID,” Snort yelled. “AH BELIEVE YOU MEAN SORDID, AND FORK!” “YOUNG MAN, I APOLOGIZE: YOU FLAIL IN A MOST INTERESTING MANNER. BUT I CAN'T HEAR YOU BECAUSE I HAVE A BANANA IN MY EAR.” The heroine shook with frustration. She was visibly unhinged. She swung her purse at the minister, hitting him in the knee. In the ensuing earthquake, the tavern on the corner gave a few tremulous sighs and collapsed into a tired heap on the ground. They all stood vibrating and beheld the ruins. Rip moaned as if in pain, and turned to the heroine, his jaw working in the evening breeze. She came. There were tears in his eyes. He held out his hand, revealing a piece of chewed gum. “Will you hold this for me,” he whispered hoarsely. “I bit my cheek.” |
That was a very loud chapter.