Winter in Hieron 13: Rosemerrow, Oh My Rosemerrow

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Hey chief,

This is a weird one, and I almost didn’t bring it to your attention, but Carver insisted. There was this guy shouting out near the Westshore-Upon-Scene theater, you know? And these folks, they yell all the time to try and get people to come to their plays, but this was seriously weird. He was speaking nonsense--a bunch of words about plays and whatever, but not really saying much at all. But he was surrounded by people anyway. Just staring at him. When we took him in for questioning, he totally locked up. No name, no address, nothing… except a sheet of paper with a script of the exact nonsense he was saying. Here, I copied it for you:

People! Learn about your imperative national theater! Hear eclectic dramas and romances! Know all new dramatists, thespians, hoofers, ensembles, househands, echomen, and technicians! Watch improv live! Listen with alert Rosemerrow minds, you! Observe upon redolent ballads of noble Elan Showman!

I just don’t get it. Who talks like that? Like, if you’re gonna script the thing out, at least make it catchy. It’s got a nice rhythm I guess, but…

I mean, anyway, sorry for bugging you. If this ends up being total bullshit, blame Carver, not me.


This week on Friends at the Table: Rosemerrow, Oh My Rosemerrow


Burn the damned paper and drink the strongest stuff you can get your hands on. Forget these words by morning or it will be too late. This isn’t a script. It’s a prayer.

-Chief Inspector Tevilton

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