The Earl’s Own Turnip Meringue
Aboard the battle dinghy Forthright off the Isle of Mitch: Geraldo here. I’m with the Earl and his embittered dogsbody Urquhart Depew. We’re navigating the fog enshrouded waters of the Perth of Anacostia approaching the Roman garrison by stealth. All of Wellington Leg trembles tonight as the Roman causeway nears completion. The police are helpless; the army is on manuevers and the navy is bottled up by the mighty “Prinz Wilhelm”, destroyer and pleasure yacht. It falls to the Earl standing in the back of the boat, I guess that’s the stern, yes, he’s nodding, he’s in the stern. Depew is forward manning the oars. We are a tiny force and, as a noncombatant, my role is limited to reporting what I see. Wait, the “Forthright” is slowing. The Earl is bending, reaching for something, struggling it appears with that lower back pain that can be so debilitating…
He’s holding a turnip! My goodness the fate of Wellington Leg is at stake here; the Earl is hefting the turnip, issuing hand signals to Depew. The bow is swinging toward the shoreline. I see a Roman sentry on the causeway, his armor gleaming even though its dark, the horsehair on his helmet glistening even though that doesn’t seem plausible, but it is exciting! “Turnip away,” cries the Earl and with a mighty heave he sends the vegetable end over end through the near darkness. The turnip strikes the Roman sentry on the head with an audible clank.
“Row, damn you,” cries the earl and the Forthright turns away from the Isle of Mitch for the mad dash across the freezing waters of the Perth. This is Gastropod Alley and below the surface lurk ceatures as strange and frightening as any that swim or float or whatever gastropods do to move from one spot to another…drift maybe. We’re ashore and I kiss the sand.
“The Romans will abandon this mad enterprise,” the earl says. “They’ll be gone by morning.”
“We’re saved?”
“Yes, Geraldo, Wellington Leg is secure. Spread the word. We sent our turnip straight and true and the enemy is unnerved. All is well.”
“Spell my name correctly,” Depew calls. To the earl he says, “He won’t, will he?”
“Probably not. I’ve prepared my famous turnip meringue in celebration of our triumph. We’ll pick up some Cool Whip on the way home.”
“Master and Commander.”
“We’ll pick that up too.”