The Aeneid and Zombyes

Ywis, lyk unto an awkward silence duringe a date, a blogg wythout newe poostes seemeth to strecche on forevir. O gentil rederes, it payneth me soore that Ich have but litel tyme for to update thys litel blogg. For the labour of a Clerk of the Kinges Workes ys lyk unto a well-sellinge series of fantasie novels: it hath no ende, nor evir shall, for economique necessitee presseth yt into endlesse servyce.

Moost nightes, whanne Ich have back to my couch ycome, Ich kan do litel moore than cheque myn accounte on the livre de visage and listen to a fyne ballad of Siena & The Devyce, and then to bed. So gooth the lyf of a minor functionarie.

Al is wel besydes the grete bisynesse. Thomas ys wyth my Lord John of Gaunt. My Trespuissant Lord King Richard semeth to be unusuallye chill about everythinge sithen we did return from Las Vegas and he did winne back hys crown. In deed, just yesterdaye King Richard hadde Bolingbroke ovir for dinner and seyde sum thinge lyk, “It is a goode thinge that we have decyded to pardon yow completelye for the acciouns thou didst take ayeinst ower royal crown and person yn the mercilesse parlement; thynk how terribel yt wolde be if we were merelye buildinge up ower power secretely and plotting revenge upon thee!” And then he laughed ful deepe and called for wyne and spicez.

At Oxenforde, litel Lowys semeth to fare ful well. He hath founde newe freendes and ys doynge wel in his classes. He boardeth yn a smal hous yn towne yclept the Maison des Animaux, and telleth me many a storye of mirth of the aventures that he hath wyth hys freend Pluto, the whych ys a grete janglere and a goliardeys.

Whanne Ich do have sum tempus liberum, Ich have usid yt to speke wyth myn literarye coterie. Ich have had greet solaas and mirthe by joyning the conversaciouns of the Domesdaye Groupe in London, and eek have embarkid on many projectes and conversaciouns wyth Virginia Wulfstan. She and hir goode husbound are plannyng a maner scriptorium for the publisshinge of bookes, and Ich have had the gret honor of beinge consulted about their initial titles. Thei shall call thys grete enterprise the "Hrothgar Presse."
Yet Virginia Wulfstan and Ich have arryved at sumdeel of a disacordaunce. For Ich have founde a newe maner of makynge the which deliteth me wyth greet delite. In thys newe kynde of booke, the writere taketh the weightie werke of an auncient auctor of much renowne (or paraventure a well-knowene romaunce) and mixeth yt wyth whimsical tales of the supernatural. Methinketh that swich a combinacioun shal be lyk unto cat-nippe for the loveres of bookes, and shal climbe the bestsellere listes lyk Lancelot into Gueneveres roome. Ywis, paraventure thei may even selle moore copyes than The Mayde Y-Marked wyth Woad in the Shape of a Wyrm and its sequel The Mayde Who Kikked at the Apiary.
Heere ys a smal ensaumple of the maner of booke about which Ich do speake. The followinge are top-secret proposales the which we haven receivid from manye a woulde-be wryter of bookes:
*The Aeneid and Zombies: In thys sequel to the moost-loved epique of classical tymes, the howlinge soule of Turnus gooth nat to helle but rathir infecteth the manye deade left from the horribel werres that the booke doth narrate. Zombie Pallas, Zombie Mezentius on hys Zombie horse Rhaebus, and Zombie stag-of-Tyrrus-that-Ascanius-accidentallye-killede, all lumber wyth muchel gore and litel speede Aeneas-toward. Aeneas hideth wyth the men of Troye in a shoppinge mall, in which he saith to them “Peraventure oon daye yt shall do us goode to thinke upon thes tymes,” and hys men saye to hym, “Peraventure oon daye ye shal get a newe lyne.” And then thei shal maken good battel ayeinst the Zombies, bewieldinge the many wepens that are redily founde yn an anciente Etruscan shoppinge malle. Many a zombie is slayne wyth a club of golf, a baseballe bat, or a smalle terracotta figuratyve sculpture. At the ende of the greate tournement ayeinst the undeade, Aeneas sheweth his hardinesse and knighthede by backinge ovir the last of the zombyes wyth a truck, commetinge upon which deede of chivalrie he saith: “Hic sunt lacrimae rearended!”

*The Metalogicon of John of Salisbury and Mummies: Exactlie lyk the Metalogicon of John of Salisburye, but wyth mummyes the which kan summon both manye beetles and locustes. (Aftir thys booke shal peraventure come The Philobiblon of Richard de Burye and the Kynge of the Scorpiones).

*The Plaint of Nature and Piranhas: Alanus of Lille heareth the Goddesse Nature soore complayne for all gooth ageinst yts kynde and also she ys beinge attacked by piranhas.

*The Art of Courtlye Love and Cannibalism: Thys booke featureth charminge dialogues yn which a man or woman convinceth anothir that she or he sholde love hym wyth a true and passinge gentil love. And then some oon cometh and eteth them both. Ywis, thys is a booke that shall gyve the grete Doctour C.S. Lewys sum thyng to thinke upon: talke about Ovid misunderstood!

*The Consolation of Philosophie the Vampyre Slayer: Boece languisheth in prisone, in which he is ysealed by the Mayster. Anon, Ladye Philosophie, who knoweth nat whethir she loveth Plato or Spyke moore, cometh to save Boece. She slayeth the vampyre of worldlie vanitee, the vampyre of illusorie goodes, and the vampyre of confusioun about the coexistense of Goddes foreknowledge wyth human free will. And ther are also many zingie one-lyners.

Swich are the maner of bookes that I wolde have the Hrothgar presse printe wyth its shinye newe technologie of litel metal letteres. And yet Virginia Wulfstan insisteth that the Hrothgar presse sholde nat prynt swich thinges, but rathir sholde prynt her owene werkes of “alliterative modernisme.”
Par ensaumple, she hath a book ywrit clepped Towardes the BoneHouse, in which Byrhtnoth "The Unspellable" of Ramseye ledeth hys warriors ayeinst the cruelous and fiendliche warryors of the Viking Danes, the which have a light-house ycaptured. A grete feeste of beef playeth sum keye role, for Ich know that in oon sectioun, Byrhtnoth saith to his men, “Ower high-courage sholde growe hardere, our heartes growe keenere, and ower mood-for-fight growe mightier, the moore that we eate of boeuf en daube.”Certes, thys beth a grete booke, and yet why beth ther nat room for bookes of classiques plus zombyes?
What thinketh yow, lordinges? What pleseth yow moore, the bookes of classiques updatid humorouslye, or the booke of the battel of the lighthouse? Ye maye eek wisshe to maken mencioun of yower owene proposales for bookes of machaup in the commentes.
Until nexte we meete, ye have my gretest thankes and affecioun.
-Le Vostre
post scriptum: Ich truste that ye shal nat telle Gower of thys mattir, for he ys lyk the biggest ripper-offer yn the wyde spanne of the erthe. Oones he herd of thys, we wolde see bookes swich as Exhaustiveleye Boringe Discussiouns of Penitential Theologie in Tetrameter AND HIPPOGRIFFS.

22 comment "The Aeneid and Zombyes"

  1. "Hic sunt lacrimae rearended!"

    With this, you have surely secured yourself a place in Paradise.

  2. Certes, Virginia Wulfstan shold make enquirie unto hir systir Vanessa de Cloche, who mygte wel mayke sum fyne peyntures for these grete bookes.

  3. Ich knowen that Ich wolde dereliche loue to rede "The Art of Courtlye Love and Cannibalism"!

    ~Lady Guenevere

  4. Gode Mægister Chaucere,

    Micel wolde min þegnas þas boc lufian, gif scop him singe æt symble. Ac ne mæge ic suggestan ænig oðer swice boc, forðam ealla þæra boca þæt ic cunne alrædig habban micel dracan ond eoten.

    Wæs þu hæl,

    Hygelac, cyning Geata

  5. Ich wolde gretly desyre to purchas the ryght of performance for this "Plaint of Nature and Piranhas," for many gildes are earning gret largesse from performances in the "third dimension." Ich cannot wait to bring the briddes on Dame Nature's garment to lyf (with piranhas), ryght aftir ich shall have fynisshed with the next tale of the vile Sarazins that do braste forth from mennes chestes.

    --Sir Ridley Scotus

  6. Ich am plesed ful wel to rede this postynge!

    Ich woulde lyk to hear you tellen a tale of the plays of the guilds, peraventure of York or Chester. Have you sene swich playes? What thinke yow of hem? Whiche tiraunt is the moste to yowre lyking - Pilate or Herod? The Last Judgement ys lyk wikked cool! Ther ys noght bettre than a comliche-made hell-mouth! Am ich ryght?

    Yowre gentil rederes woulde deliten in the tale of yowre day at the playes, treuly. Ich knouen yt wil be ful of sentence and solaas! Plese endite in yowre fyn Englysshe!

  7. @quislibet: RATHER IN THE OTHER PLACE.

  8. "Penitential Theologie in Tetrameter AND HIPPOGRIFFS"?

    Ywis ich habbe no knowyng of hyppogryphs conteyning Theologie of ony kinde.

    Yet peradventure ich wolde rede wyth joie swych tomes as "Sir Gaweyne and the Grene Knyghtmare on the Lane of Elmes," or "Piers Ploughmann and the Purple Eatere of Men," the whiche ys a Cyclops of the Upper Aire.

    Or perchance the translatour ys at faulte, and in truth yt been an Eatere of Purple People, the whych aren vintneres and dyers of raiment?

  9. Ah, Nonie, laughed aloud I did...

  10. Hast heard of a marvelous video in tribute of thy wryting? Ye may find it here:

  11. Robertus Arturius Felix, KyngteNovember 21, 2010 at 3:17 PM

    When Ich was a yonge manne Ich served Grete Kynge Edward, he of blessed memoyre, in his many warres against the Frensshe. For thirty years Ich haue peformed many actes of kngytly virtu and grete feates of armse. Ich stoode under the banner of the Black Prince at Harfloor and at Agincourt the wich for my paynes Ich now receiveth sukkor from the purse of Kynge Richard. Enow Ich am a olde manne and is the wont of greybeardes Ich have now nought to do but escape the cavils of my ladye wyfe and to playe games of bingoye and telle manye a talle storye of meyne adventures at tavernes and at ye Clubbe of Gentils at which Ich enjoyenth the visage of ye yonge servinge maydens and marvel grately at their clotthes the which seem taken from the hareem of some grete Sultoon of Araby. Een more enow Ich have come to the pleasure of the readynge of books and hath mayde pilgrimage to meyne neighborhoode abbey in search of thy owne buch. Ich did find it there chained to a stalle as it ys a thinge of grete pryce and much coveted. Een should ye selle but a few copyes ye will be mayde a riche worthye and mayest buye a lyttel woolen hatte to adorn thee on each daye of the weeke as it pleaseth ye. Ich recalleth in they blogge that ye hath ycleped the Mayde of Boeheme as Parys Lancecrona and yet in thy buch she is ycleped Rheims Lancecrona. Ich have heard that she was sorely offended that ye hath mayde her the butte (ha ha) of thy japery and Ich feare muchlye that she hath bewitched some mightye phalanxe of lawyers to trouble ye with manye plagues as certe as Godde troubled Fayro and that for suche reason ye have disquyzed her name. Certes her recente arreste on the Kynges Warrant for the smokynge of straugne herbes proscribed by Parlemente mayest Ich praye divert her evile attentiones from you.

    Robertus Arturius Fexil, Kyngte

  12. Fearest thou nat to broughten to Law for Trespass of Copywrighte by that Poet of reknowne who first devysed to yntrodouce a fryghtful Monster into ye plaiside and charmynge Lay of Beowulf?

  13. Le chat ys outte of the bagge, eh, B.B.?

    I'm a longtime reader of your blog, and I was delighted to find your book for sale on Amazon. I confess that I opted for the paperback version; not just because $85.00 clams was too rich for my purse, but also because the paperback will attain that nice, lived-in feeling a lot sooner.

    Thank you for all the laughs. Thanks for turning me on to Baba Brinkman. Thank you especially for the movie reviews! They're gut busters.

    Don't stop, ok?

    - MKampp

  14. Ma Chere Marguerite,

    Ich knowe nat who thys "B. B." maye be, peraventure a convenient ficcioun for to maken moore smooth the publisshinge of a booke. B. B. beth als "reale" as "Lollius."

    Ywis, yt nys no shame to purchase the softcovir, for the bookes of hardcovir are oonlye ment for grete universitees and houses of monkes yn which they are kept ychained to lecternes.

    Ich shal nevir stop blogging, thogh Ich shal probablie take excessifly long breakes al the darnede tyme, as Ich do nowe. Yt is a thing of gret peyne to me that Ich kan nat wryte in my blog, but ther are still decoraciouns for Festivus to be put uppe around myn hous, and Philippa even nowe is callinge me kitchen-ward.

    Muchel affeccioun and gratitude to all who rede of thys blog.

    Ich am
    ut semper
    le vostre

  15. And mai the Newe Year be of swich jollite to thi and thyn as shal been a wondre to all (and peradventure a schaume to a certayne Gower), and thy daies been long and fulle of mirth and solas!

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