"Surprise!"

 In the absence of anything with any substance - an impromptu adventure over the Cusp, for example - may I present another excerpt from 2017's Ms Scarlet in the Pantry with the Can-Opener, the unofficial and unauthorised biography of our very own Ms Scarlet!

 

 

 Today we'll be looking at chapter 4, "A Day Without Rain":

 

The Predatory Foxgloves of Smallhopes Hill

I peer through the honeysuckle and bracken at a gruesome sight...

 

Killer Foxgloves have felled a tree and are devouring it messily!

Uh, oh.  Two of their sentinels have seen me and alert the others...

The Sunday Blogger Club and other stories

 As I seem incapable of putting together any of the blog posts that have been lurking at the back of our mind recently, here is a quick update on some of the books and doujinshi manga we've read recently instead.  

 

 I stopped reading Smoke and Mirrors as it was too miserable and grim.  To help the Host get over it, while I was waiting in the Cusp departure lounge for my portal home, I picked up a copy of The Sunday Blogger Club.  But only because it came with a free blogging rota.

 You see, I've been on a "business trip" Over the Cusp;  The Very Mistress took to her fainting chaise in 1973 and has barely been seen since;  Jon is on holiday and jetting off to Amsterdam or somesuch;  Maddie seems to have only just got back and she's off again;  Mago managed a Sunday Music on Saturday - No, not the following one, Saturday before - which has thrown us all for a loop;  And Ms Scarlet emigrated from Wordpress to Blogger and now needs a prompt to get her going!

 Yes, I think that rota will come in very handy.

 

 Anyway.  Back to the reading material:

 A Fine Life - The story of a nascent witch whose unwanted commitments and obligations are arranged away by an unseen imp.  Although the witch is vaguely aware of the imp and its interventions, they do not know the full extent of the imp's arrangements and the subsequent consequences wreaked upon their friends and family.  Although, they are beginning to suspect.

 

 The Furtherest Ones - A collection of tales of unobtainable love and inappropriate lust in a beautiful but terrible land beyond the reach of mere mortals.  One such tale is about a sea spirit who yearns to touch the sun, even knowing that should it be possible, they'll evaporate.  They are teased by the Moon, and are drawn to him as a tide, but the Moon always releases them before they can overcome their world's gravity and join the Sun and the Moon as they dance together in the sky.

 Spindle: Wind the Thread Around Xem - A book about how to structure and write novels of the classic Karskat genre.  It's a bit awkward - translated as it is from ancient Andorii.

 Star Trek Costumes: Five Decades of Fashion from the Final Frontier, by Paula M. Block and Terry J. Erdmann

 This is my first Trek book purchase for a LONG time.  And I only got it because it was a fiver instead of £35!

 I've only had time to flick through it so far, and seems not as comprehensive or detailed as I'd like, but it does have some wonderful concept art and gorgeous photographs.  My favourite Trek film, STIII: The Search For Spock appears to be well served with a good covering of the civilian clothing and Vulcan garments. 

 Definitely worth £5.

 T.S.D. Master of Poison Radio Wave and other selected manga of Dokudenpa Jushintei, by Kobucha Omaso. 

 Some of these tales of young men coming to terms with their sexuality and dealing with first love/lust are very dear and quite charming.  They're illustrated with adorable looking young men sporting perfect bodies and seemingly endless reserves of energy - which ends up being used for a LOT of gleefully drawn, enthusiastic sex!  But that's only a part of it - it's the emotional stuff that's most important, of course.

 Only a few are translated into English, and even that's rather hit-and-miss, but it's quite fun to imagine what's going on and what the characters are saying.  (I've run a few through Google Translate images and that's even more hit-and-miss, but I get the gist)

 Oh, and there are some that are definitely not my cup of tea, such as the ones with chibi or too young looking characters, and the ones with tentacles (I just don't get it).

 

Danger: RUDE!  For the gentlemen who prefer to travel up the chocolate escalator or are a receiver of swollen goods*, and anyone else who may be curious, click here for T.S.D. vol.1.  And once you're there, I'd recommend right-clicking any link to open in a new window - even if only clicking to the next page - to prevent unwanted video sex websites opening.  I use Firefox which blocks most pop-ups, but doesn't seem to catch them all on the linked to BaraMangaOnline site.

* Thank you, Derek:

Salt Rooks

 

  So, there I was, minding my own business when I was accosted by a bunch of salt rooks!  I mean, the very nerve.  If they think their display of sharp-edged, cubic cuppery was going to intimidate me, well, they had another thing coming.

 Oh, for fu....  They're just salt crystals!  You'd inadvertantly debigulated us again!

 That's beside the point.  Those crystalline carbuncles are no better than bloody Tholians!  I've a good mind to get Nancy Crater down here.  She'll show those pes-

 Stop.  Just stop.  Your grasp of Star Trek is almost as flimsy as The Very Mistress's.

 Hmmmph!

 Right.  I'll continue captioning these photos from yesterday evening and this morning, then.

Once the seawater had evaporated from the pitted and crumbling promenade,

all that's left are salt crystals.

No wind and no waves mean smooth seas.

Who 8 All the Ferrero Rocher?

Continued from . . .  Part 7 of the Epic Collaboration – A Revelation of Sorts

 

 I hastily stuffed the half-unwrapped Ferrero Rocher, the syringe, and the small bottle marked with complicated sigils under a couple of cushions as the door to the study opened - without having been knocked on first!

 

 "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

 "Hmm?  Yes, but this isn't your house" Dinah said, barging into the room, bottle glass of wine in hand, and taking an unwanted interest in the cushions - admittedly I was doing a crap job of trying to look nonchalant whilst concealing the evidence of my diabolical deed.  "What have you got there?" she asked.

 "Nothing.  I'm, um, just taking a break from all the noise and partying downstairs?"

 "Right" Dinah didn't look or sound convinced, but fortunately, she didn't press the issue as she had something else on her mind.  "Anyway, Mago's looking for you." 

 "What?!  Mago?  Don't you mean Aidan Turner?"  

 "No.  Mago.  He's broken character and says something about being an archaeologist and wanting to put some clothes on.  Oh, and Ms Scarlet's vanished."

 "Blast!  I'll never get my hands on that Bottle of Greed!"

 "What?"

 "Oh, er, nothing.  Listen..." I said, wondering just how many Ferrero Rochers Ms Scarlet had troughed down as I got up off the cushioned settee and headed to an ancient, whirring PC on the desk (a vintage MacBook Air, if I wasn't very much mistaken!), "I happened to find this open on a pair of peculiar websites that seem to be tracking our movements, making insulting generalisations, and exaggerating certain aspects of our personalities and habits, if not making them up entirely!  Do you know anything about this?"

 Dinah shrugged and took a gulp of her wine.

 "And people are leaving comments about us!" I continued.  "Although, the comments are tailing off the longer this has been going on.  We've got to do something!"

 "You mean like reporting it to the authorities?"

 "No!  We're losing the audience!  We've got to engage them again - if they ever were really engaged in the first place?"

 "Probably not" Dinah muttered.  "I know I'm fed up with it all..."

 "I know just the thing!" I said, ignoring Dinah.  "Follow me."

 From the study I headed out across the landing, down the sweeping staircase - avoiding what looked like a mouse wrapped in a red napkin on the way - and made my way towards the rear of Mogwash Manor.

 

 But Dinah wasn't the only one following me to the orangery...

To be continued in...

 

 T e r r i f y i n g   T r i f f i d e r y !

❦

[For anyone yet to send me their photos for this year's Terrifying Triffidery you only have another couple of days to do so - I need your Triffids by the end of the day on Saturday 29th October.  Because I'm such a soft touch, I'll allow a few more days for your Infomaniac Garden Photos Event pics - Just in case anyone happens to find any lost photos of the marigold persuasion, for example...]

 

[P.S. While we're on the subject, the deadline for Melanie's 'Leaves' Photo Submissions is the 31st, so get snapping/sending!]

TEC vol. VI: The Uncovered Somethingorother...

Continued from . . . PART 5 of The Epic Collaboration

Because our last effort made some people very confused/cross/consider legal action,

Ms Scarlet had to turn part five into a very short recap of what's happened so far.

And there are still threats of legal action!

So, in an effort to make things clearer-

A futile effort, methinks.

Well, yes, but let's give it a try okay?

Oh, okay.  Carry on, then.

Right.  Where was I?  Oh, yes: In an effort to make things clearer, think of this part as

volume six in an ongoing book series.  A volume that only has four quite short chapters.

And they look longer than they are because of the pictures and the music video.

'Music video'?  Christ.  You sound like you're a hundred million years old!

Well, what would you call it, then?

Um...

I knew it was a mistake to involve the SubCs in this!  Let's just get on with it.

Fine.  Are you putting the chapters in, or am I?

You are.

C H A P T E R   O N E

 "Oof!" said Mago as he extricated himself from a collection of now crushed and broken lily stems.

 "What happened, Mr Device?!" said an annoyed sounding clump of Eucomis zambesiaca with a Dinah in it.  Miraculously, all flower spikes were still fully erect.

 "Ow" I replied, trying to unpick myself from a very thorny 'Gertrude Jeckyll'.  Again.  Albeit in someone else's garden.  "Sorry, Dinah.  Sorry, Mago.  That story change wave-front came out of nowhere, and that reinitialisation so soon afterwards was totally unexpected."

 "Wo sind wir?"

 "Up someone's back passage, by the look of it" Dinah said hauling herself out of the Eucomis.

Someone's back passage.  German and Australasian not pictured

 "My back passage!" a stern voice announced.  Yikes!

 "Our back passage, dear" a second voice corrected.  "Why is there a witch in our rose bush?  And why are there Tupperware boxes strewn around the garden, a muddy welly in the fuchsias, and a bath mat in me Wine Time Corner™?"

 "And a German in the lilies, and an Australasian of sorts in the Eucomis, hmm?  Why, indeed?" 

 It was Jon and Madam Arcati, of course.  Not the German and Australasian, the new, and rather ticked off voices.

 "Ah.  Hello.  Um..." I said addressing our unwitting hosts.  "Sorry.  We hit rather a lot of story change turbulence when Ms Scarlet fast-forwarded the story somewhat unexpectedly.  The poor bath mat wasn't designed to cope with such stresses.  As you can see..." I gestured at the partially flattened garden.  "Sorry."

 "Diese Lilien smell of urine" Mago muttered.  "I smell of urine."

 "We'll see about that" Jon said, reaching for the hose again. 

Catching Crabs

 Summer popped back to brag about old times, but I didn't want to get caught up in its inane dude-bro rambling, so I took advantage of the change in weather it brought and went for a walk along the beach instead.

 I wasn't the only one with that thought though...

Gah!  There are people everywhere!

Just look at the six - six!! - in this photo, milling around and getting in my way!

Muddy Meanderings and an Octopus Sucker Bath Mat

Continued from ... When Worlds Collide and a Pair of Striped Tights

 "STOP HER!!!" I shrieked screeched yelled, mindful of The Very Mistress's observation about my apparent tendency to 'scream like a girl'.

 "Who are you shrieking at?" the aforementioned Very Mistress enquired.  Well, her be-tighted legs appeared to as they hung from the bUbble Haze™, anyway.

 "Yes" said Dinahmow as she used her wand to lift up the edge of the drape that was covering me.  "I'm hardly likely to stop Ms Scarlet as I helped her to leave, and Mistress MJ is just a pair of stripy legs."

 "Well, maybe Beaky could?"  My blood suddenly ran cold and I looked around wildly.  "Where is that dratted bird, anyway?"

 "Oh, he flew off.  But don't worry, I'm sure he'll be waiting for you when you get home!"  If it was possible for legs to grin evilly, The Very Mistress's legs did so.

 "Hmmph!  I'm sure" I said as I threw off the drapes and got to my feet, kicking aside a muddy Wellington boot that Ms Scarlet must have used to trudge across her swamp lawn.  "So, where did you send Ms Scarlet, Dinah?"

 "Oh, up Jon's back passage."

 "Award winning back passage" The Very Mistress's legs corrected.

 "Yes, award winning back passage" Dinah said.

 "Right.  Then that's where we'll go.  I just hope we'll all fit?

 "Up Jon's back passage?" The Very Mistress snorted.  "There'll be room to spare!  Besides, I'm not going."

 "What?  Why not?"

 "Because I'm not getting paid enough, nothing's been disinfected, and the longer I spend here the more chance there is of someone mentioning the C word."

 "The C word?  But you have no qualms about saying cu-"

Over the Cusp and Addressing the List

Continued from A Realm Beyond Comprehension and a Shortish List...

 

 "Oof!"  I struggled to extricate myself from the surprisingly prickly rose bush I'd fallen into following a - some would say unnecessarily dramatic - flinch due to a passing sparrow (which had since alighted on the fence and was looking at me with an expression of curiosity).  "Oh, it wasn't Beaky after all.  Where has that dratted bird got to?!"

 

 It had been unnervingly quiet here recently.  Beaky, my terrifying - and extremely annoying - blackbird familiar, had seemingly vanished from the expansive grounds of Hexenhäusli Device, but my survival instinct had yet to dial itself down.  Brushing the muck and bits of rose bush off myself, and sucking on a couple of thorn-inflicted scratches, I headed across the paysho and into my gingerbread mansion to see if the postman postwoman had been.

 "Oh, it's just another cease-and-desist letter from RHS Rosemoor.  They've obviously got the wrong person as I've never even been to-  Hang on..."  But this one contained something that the other three hadn't: a still image seemingly taken from a security camera video - and it didn't paint a pretty picture.  Lurking amongst the azaleas was a witch.  Or, more accurately, someone dressed as a witch.  And rather craply, too, with a parsnip for a nose, and an old measuring funnel for a hat.  "That's not me!  My nose doesn't look like that!"

Well, depending on the light...

Oh, shut up!

 I squinted at the photo for some time until, eventually, I relented with a 'hummmph!' and grudgingly went to fetch my reading glasses in order to make out the details.

 "Aha!" (No, not that one) "Got you!"

White Cliffs of Over(strand)

Uh, oh...  This doesn't seem right?

 On Thursday, knowing that the temperatures on Friday were going to hit at least 30° and therefore any outside venturing then would result in heatstroke, and crisping of skin followed by complete desiccation, I slapped on some sunscreen, stepped outside and sloped off down to the beach to get some fresh air and have a paddle.

 

 

 Only it didn't quite go according to plan...

A sudden embiggening of the landscape alerted me to the fact that I had inadvertantly happened upon the Lilliputian Cusp interface again, promptly becoming debigulated.

The tinsel is a dead giveaway...

 Oof!  I'm back!  Well, briefly, at any rate.

 I've had some things to deal with which is why I've been, well, not here...  And despair at the state of the world is only part of it.  Signs of an impending infestation of unicorns, and that little shit Beaky skulking around the garden have been of more concern...

.  .  .

 But first, to accompany your scrolling, here's another almost certainly miserable* song from my favourite glum, beardy miseryguts, White Lies: "Time To Give"

* I try not to listen to the lyrics, remember?

.  .  .

 Anyway, back to the topic at hand: Beaky.

This was the view from my kitchen window this morning.  Looks okay, doesn't it?

Until you notice the blurs of black on the bench and birdtable...

IDV's [redacted] Winterval Panto! (Part 2)

Continued from... IDV's Wonderful Winterval Panto! (Part 1)

No.  I'm not doing anymore narrating.

You'll have to get someone else to do it.

But, Very Mistress...

No!  There was more to do than you led me to believe,

and having to do it all in italics as well is too much!

Well, who else can I get on such short notice?

Who hasn't had a part yet?  Ms Nations?  Rimpy?  Melanie?

I bet Upton would be very good? 

Americans?!  Has that Jameson's gone to your head already?

The Great British public won't have bloody Americans

narrating a panto!  No. They can be the Audience.

You snob!  Well, what about Mago, then?  He's just had

his eyes done so reading the script will be a good test.

And Dobbin's not really in this part, so he's free.

Mago...?  Hmmm... Yes.  Mago!

High above the land in a castle floating amongst the clouds, lived a giant.

In diesem Moment in the castle's great hall, the giant was enjoying a breakfast of Ferrero Rocher freshly laid by his golden goose foil-covered droid while being half-heartedly seranaded by his golden robot harp.  The castle's Very Mistress, Fetchsleep, was ensconced in her fainting web, trying - und failing - to get a bit of shut-eye...

 

 "Ah, isn't Jack beautiful?  I just want to eat him all up!  When do you think he'll get here?"

 "Sigh... I really couldn't say - I'm not the one sat in front of the crystal ball!  And when I said no more narrating, I didn't mean for you to cast me in the story instead.  I need my beauty sleep to be ready for legions of punters once I don the Infomaniac Mistletoe Belt Buckle.  So, has he discovered the Cobaeanstalk?"

 "No, not yet.  I've been watching him for hours and haven't even caught a glimpse of his maypole yet!"

 "I'm not surprised - It is December, after all.  What's he doing now, then?  Like I care..."

 "It looks like he's lolling about in bed.  Or riding some sort of sea monster?  It's difficult to tell as the picture in the 'ball isn't very clear."

 "Well, wake me when something interesting happens."

 "Righto.  Golden Harp?  This music is a bit lacklustre - can you play something else, please?  And nothing Christmassy."

 "Oh, 'play something else' he says!  If only it was that easy.  Where are my muses, hmm?  Where are all the big, dumb, muscular lunks to stimulate my creativity?  Oh, that's right - you ate them!  If you want me to play with myself and pluck my own strings, then I'll need the stimulus to do so.  'Play something else' indeed.  Easy for you to say having swallowed all my men.  I don't know why I bother?!  Golden Tinfoil Goose droid agrees with me, don't you?"

 "Beep boop."

IDV's Wonderful* Winterval Panto! (Part 1**)

* lit. full of wonder at how this travesty of cliches, assumptions, and lazy writing came into being.

** Fortunately for you, there are only two parts to this.

 

Continued from A Pink Prelude...

 

... And for that 'Grotbags' comment I can do the narrating

reclined on my fainting chaise in the wings?

For the last time: Yes!

Good.  I can't be arsed with navigating shoddily constructed scenery while flouncing about in ridiculous costumes - I've seen what's in store for Jon in wardrobe.

I just want a bit of a lie down with a drink.  Or twelve.

There's a barrel of Jameson's and a straw all set out back.

Now, if you would kindly take your place?

Script!  Where's my script?

Christ!  It's on the chaise!

Please, Very Mistress, the cast - your Infomaniac Drinking Team - and audience are getting restless.

All right.  Keep your knickers on, IDV!

Just remember who you're talking to.

Yes, Very Mistress.

Right.  The narrator is all set.  Places everyone!

Curtain up in five, four, three...

 

In a lightly thronged rural village marketplace-

 

Can half a dozen people be classified as a 'throng'?

Some of them don't even appear to be real people.  Are they cardboard cut-outs?

Of course they're made of cardboard, Very Mistress.

You know the budgets for these things are practically non-existent.

Well, we did have the budget for Savvy to appear in person here,

but she's late as usual, so that's 25 quid down the drain...

We haven't got time for that now!

Very Mistress, if you could continue narrating, please?

Oh.  Yes.  Where was I?  Ah, yes:

In a lightly thronged marketplace we find a young woman- 

Man!

Man?  Is he?  [squints]  Oh, yes, of course.

I forgot that in panto the principle boy is usually played by a female actor.

If we can get on, please?

Just before I do, the script says "a young man" - how young is that then?  20s?  30s?

I only ask because - and I'm not saying that I think she's too...

experienced for the role - isn't that Ms Scarlet?

[sigh] Yes.  It is.  Fortunately, as I'm sure you remember, Ms Scarlet is at least ten years younger here over the Cusp than her birth certificate would have you believe, thanks to that time-travel nincompoopery that occurred over her birthday earlier this year.

Now, if you please?

Of course.  Of course.  Where were we?

Oh, yes, 'thronged marketplace', 'young man':

Anyway, his name is Jack and he's here with his overbearing - and rather garishly dressed, if you ask me - mother, a Dame of some repute, to sell various mud-based artisinal products and some dubious beauty treatments made from butter...

A Pink Prelude...

Continued from... The I.T. Wizard of Oz and

The Calamities of the Carmine Quill (part 4)

 

Vworp  Vworp  Vworp

 As the Great Glass Elevator containing Norma-D2 and C3-Peenee faded from view, Mistress Maddie and IDV surfaced from the frothing gincuzzi.

 "Did you hear something?"

 "No.  And neither did you, so come on" Maddie said dragging IDV down again, the two of them disappearing beneath the spume-laden surface.

R E I N I T I A L I S I N G . . .

 "Oh, no" I muttered resurfacing, spitting a bow-tie from between my teeth - where did that come from?  "Not again.  Not now!" 

 

R E I N I T I A L I S A T I O N   C O M P L E T E.

S T O R Y   C H A N G E   I N   T H R E E . . .

 "What?  What's going on?" Maddie spluttered. 

 "The story's reinitialising!"

 

T W O . . .

 

 "So?"

 "So?!  So, I haven't quite got around to writing the next bit, yet!  If it doesn't have a new story to latch onto, the reinitialisation will flail around picking up any old bits of narrative that've been left laying around!"

 

O N E . . .

 

 "Well, I don't see that it'll be any different from any of your other efforts then, Tootes?"

 "Hmmph!"

 

M A R K.

 

A thrilled IDV

(not in shot, Maddie & Asriel)

 Like Venus rising from the waves - albeit it with more stubble - Asriel emerged from the foaming gincuzzi, a look of confusion on his face.  "Where...?  Where am I?"  The confusion turned to mild panic.  "Where are my clothes?!  And my bow-tie?!?!"

 "Oh!" I exclaimed.  "Maybe this won't turn out so badly after all?"

 Maddie clearly agreed as she assisted in pulling Asriel under, the faint grin of realisation that appeared on his lips was followed into the foam by his trademark raised eyebrow...

Bluebell Blowout

Also available in white - ask at the front desk for details

 As yesterday's bluebell show seemed quite popular, I thought I'd remain on the bandwagon and bring you a far more local display - from just a quick wander up the road, rather than 20-odd miles away at Pensthorpe.  In fact, I could have saved myself some time and money (and blue fingers from the cold) by doing this yesterday instead of the Pensthorpe trip!

CCQ: An Enterprising Ending (at last)

 "You silly sods!"  Hound was quite cross.  "Now look what you've done."

 "What happened?  How did we get here?" a bewildered Mago asked.

 "Someone - or possibly sometwo - were thinking of Star Trek when they crashed through my hedge, weren't they?"

 Ms Scarlet guiltily put a hand to her basket-weave bouffant while the grin dissolved from IDV's face.

 "Yes, but really?" The disbelief in Maddie's tone was palpable.

 "Yes, really" said Hound.  "I'm a hedgewitch.  For me the hedge is both the witch's setting and a gateway to other places.  Mitzi's hedge was still charged up from when I transported us to the Cornish coast for the Poldark thing, so blundering through it while thinking of Trek brought us here."

 "My hedge did this?" Mitzi didn't look happy.  "Right.  It's coming down once we get back."

 "Oh, I'm no good with this Star Trek stuff" Dinah cut in.  "Let's just go back through so we can all go home.  I'm tired - I'm several time zones from where I normally am and it's all catching up with me."

 "Several time zones?"  IDV whispered, nudging Ms Scarlet for attention as he gestured at their surroundings.  "And the other 250 years!"

 "Oh, Mr Devine!"

 "Oof!" said Dinah as she found herself face down on the other side of the hedge.  

 "Well, that didn't work."  Mago helped Dinah up after her unsuccessful return trip.

 "All the magic was used up getting you all here" Hound said.  "We're not going anywhere for a while."

 "Will you lot stop trampling my plants!" a loud voice cut through the Blogorati's sniping.  "And get off my lawn!"

 As one, the Blogorati turned towards the source of their berator.  There in the corner, shovelling a big pile of something ghastly-looking, was someone familiar wearing a red miniskirt uniform like Ms Scarlet's.

 "Ms Nations?"

 "Stop your gawping, IDV" she said.  "This tribble shit isn't going to spread itself."

 Oh.  Er, no.  I suppose it won't.  Um.  Actually, our shift's about to start - we'd better go"  IDV shooed the milling Blogorati towards the turbolift.  "C'mon, let's get out of here."

 "Suit yourselves" Ms Nations muttered to their backs as they walked off.  "I'll just get my garden hoes to do it.  Boys!" she yelled.  As the turbolift doors closed on the Blogorati, two muscular non-coms dressed in not very much appeared.  Several pairs of widening eyes were treated not to bulging, hot, sweaty manual labour¹, but to the doors snapping shut. 

oOo

CCQ: Aidan Turner in the Altogether with a Towel

 "Wow!  You really know how to handle such a big machine" IDV shamelessly innuendoed at Asriel as the driver swung the limo into Mitzi's driveway and brought it to a controlled stop outside the front door.

 "Oh, dear.  That was terrible!  The poor boy" Lady Goldberg-DeWoofs admonished as a furious blush bloomed on Asriel's handsome face.

 "I don't know?" Maddie countered.  "I might have said something similar."

 "Thank you, Maddie" IDV said.  "I'm rather out of practice.  Now, we'd better go and see what's going on inside."

 Despite the blatant flirting, Asriel had managed to get out of the limo and open the rear door for his passengers to disembark.  IDV had only just got out - not missing the opportunity to give the driver a once-over - when a minibus roared up the drive and screeched to a halt mere micromips from smushing his legs to smithereens against the limo's open door.

Hmm...  That sounds familiar.

Yes, 'Ms Scarlet with the Trolley on the Mezzanine' familiar...

Sshhhh!  Just let him get on with it otherwise we'll be here all day!

 "Eeeeeeep!"

 "Where is she?!?" Jon barely noticed IDV sandwiched between the front of the minibus and the car door as he burst out of the vehicle.

 "Oof" said Dinah as she gracefully fell out after Jon.  A small avalanche of empty wine bottles followed in her wake, clinking and clanking around her.  A raised eyebrow from the limo driver (the resident expert) provoked a defensive mumble "They're for Ms Scarlet's Bottled Project..."

 "Sorry to startle you, IDV" Mago said as he exited the driver's side with an exasperated expression on his face.  "I was getting inundated with directions und instructions und pointing fingers..."

 As IDV sidled out of the wafer-thin gap, his mouth open to respond to Mago, a terrible scream rent the air.

 "I think it came from around the back" Maddie gasped.

 "Then let's go!" cried Jon as he leapt into action.  Well, sashayed towards the side gate, anyway...

 

oOo

CCQ: A Hair Raising Affair

Why are we doing intertitle cards again?

I think The Host is quite pleased with how they came out and wants to make the most of them.

Very well.  Carry on.

 

 "Ah.  Mr Device."

 "Glurk!"  IDV stopped in his tracks as a figure appeared in front of him.  "Um.  I mean: Very Mistress.  How lovely to see you and whatnot.  Wherever did you spring from?"

 The Very Mistress smiled smugly (smugly smiled?  smigged smuley?) at IDV's obvious discomfort.  "I was in the bakery" she said, waving her claw in the general vicinity, "availing myself of a Danish puff when I heard all this commotion, so I came out to see what was going on.  Imagine my surprise to see that you've usurped another role from me."

 "Well.  Um.  You see...  That is...  Um..."

 "Yes?"

 "Well, I wasn't sure if your hectic schedule of publishing your old drafts would allow for a part, you see?"

 "You could have asked?"

 "Ha ha.  Yes.  Good point.  Ahem."

 "So" The Very Mistress asked, looking over IDV's purple suit, green cloak and hat, her gaze finally coming to a halt on his right hand.  "Who are you meant to be, then?"

 IDV fidgeted a little and hid his crone-finger in the folds of his cloak.  "The Haggard Claw" he said glumly.

 "Ha!" The Very Mistress barked.  "Yes, I see."

 "My finger doesn't normally look like this!  It came with the role" IDV protested, then muttered under his breath "as well you know, considering that it's your role and finger."

 "What?!"

 "Nothing.  Anyway, I really must be going" IDV said as he eyed Houndwort wriggling into the boot of Ms Scarlet's Compact Figaro across the street as she drove off.  "Ms Scarlet - I mean, the Carmine Quill - is getting away and, unbeknownst to her, Houndwort is getting away with her!"

 

oOo

The Calamities of the Carmine Quill

 A silent Ms Scarlet  held up the intertitle card with a self-satisfied grin.  Having flirted with the idea of becoming entirely text based and giving up speech forever, she had gone out on a few dates with it, made a deep connection, and then eloped, with the marriage ceremony held at the Grade II listed telephone box in Mogwash.

 After an interminable amount of time - at least eight or nine seconds - Ms Scarlet's grin had regressed to a scowl.  Why wasn't anyone taking any notice of her very clever, and painstakingly crafted card?!  Fortunately, she had prepared for this eventuality - as unlikely as she thought it would be - and held up another card: 

CCQ Teaser

EDIT 4 March: The previous version of this post had no title, tags, or words, but it upset Ms Scarlet, so I've included a minimal amount of those items now.  But what can it all mean? 

Answers on a postcard in the comments, please.