I Delivered the Traditional Malediction

by KentDuring the holiday season we like to choose our stichomancy prompts from festively themed sources. This year we’ve opted for Dickens’s classic A Christmas Carol. We wanted to avoid as many humbugs as possible, so these lines might not be instantly recognizable. But for us that’s part of the fun.

  • a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner
  • died seven years ago, this very night
  • so he said “Pooh, pooh!” and closed it with a bang
  • The bell struck twelve
  • went to fetch the goose

Tune in next time part 556     Click Here for Earlier Installments

I delivered the traditional malediction upon the chef, remembering to imitate Arlo’s sniveling accent. “Give to us a suitable feast, though you be a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner. It will probably taste like the corpse of your predecessor, who died seven years ago, this very night, but pray that these fine guests will overlook its horrid stench and gritty texture.” While memorizing these lines, I learned that this chef was, indeed, coming up on his seventh anniversary of employment. I tried to avoid the man’s sorrowful eyes, pushed the distressing tale from my mind.

But that story was the only topic of conversation at the high table. The hapless previous chef’s offering had been rejected at a reception much like this, the groom taking his duties quite seriously and hurling the cook into the allegedly ceremonial grave. The grave in that case had been equipped with a lid, and the groom’s mouth was still full of the vile cuisine, so he said “Pooh, pooh!” and closed it with a bang. The narration always left off at this juncture, never revealing the poor man’s eventual fate. I had to assume they never let him out, and wonder if the food could possibly have been that bad.

Our fare did not resemble corpseflesh in any way that I noticed, which came as a huge relief for several reasons. Also, the PSLM² finally took the stage and drowned out the morbid gossiping at our table. Unfortuately, they also inspired numerous ungainly Svenborgians to get up and dance.

The bell struck twelve. That was Jason’s cue, but he didn’t appear. I leaned over to the Tessabot and asked if she knew the reason for the delay.

“He went to fetch the goose for the dessert.” She frowned thoughtfully. “He should be back by now.”

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