Giggles. We dissolved into giggles. There really was no other word for it. The more they asked for QUIET, the more we succumbed to that impulse, that bubbling up silliness.

The ridiculous PLUME adorning Aunt Bet’s hat was partly responsible. The knowledge that out of all of Aunt Bet’s BEAUX, she had chosen the mustachioed, pompous Colonel was also why. And that they had chosen this spot for the wedding, which they really should
REDUB “My Old Kentucky Home,” or perhaps “Tara” was another. And finally, that Mother had made us get out the fox furs (absolutely ancient)!!! And that we had to DEBUG them!!! Oh, Lordy!

And that last, Gentle Reader, is a secret that is to die with us all. But how were we to be silent in the face of all of this absurdity?? Especially with little fox faces looped around our necks?? Fox faces, mustaches, pomposity, plumes of feathers?? Giggles were really the kindest, and perhaps only sane responses.

Georg’ann

When the ROYAL brigade arrived we were not sure what to think, ours was a tiny, unassuming village. They tried to be inconspicuous, as if we’d not take notice. They’d ensured there was no SHINE on their shoes, they tried to mill about without falling into a QUEUE. Each wore quite a GETUP that they assumed made them blend, but only served to highlight that they didn’t belong. This was a top secret mission to DEBUG our communication systems. The enemy was watching, our town had become central to the conflict simply because it had no involvement whatsoever.

Heather