“I feel for his family, if not for his fans,” said Evil Editor at the podium. “I don't know why I was called to eulogize him. Perhaps he's trying to write my life like one of his trashy novels. John Grisham was--”
“Pssst.” The minister beckoned Evil.
“What? I'm doing a freaking eulogy here.” The minister whispered in Evil's ear. “It's not John Grisham? Who the hell is it?” The minister whispered again. “You have clues but no name? Arrgh!” EE's head spun around and he snatched the minister's notes. “I be a professional. Arrr!”
Evil faced the crowd again.“Blimey. Ya won' rattle an old sea dog like me. The wench or scurvy dog what walked the plank is...” Evil looked at the note “...a pompous gasbag.” He turned back towards the minister. “It be you!”
A voice came from the crowd. “Nyo wits woo!” Talpianna spit the dagger from her mouth. “No, it's you, Evil!” She raised two zombie moles by the scruff of their necks. They hissed at Evil.
“Arrr! Arrr! Arrr!...I like the sound of that,” said Dave.
“Ye're takin' the long walk off the short pier,” said Dave.
“Plank,” said Tal.
“--short plank,” said Dave.
“So...” said Evil. “This be mutiny is it? Who be straightening your mangy dangling participles after I be gone?”
“Outsource him! Outsource him!” said someone other than Bill H. “Twenty-four hour blog updates.”
“So, ye think Indian bloggists can replace me?” Evil searched the room. “Et tu Robin? Et tu?”
Robin doubled over in tears. “Yes. Twenty-four hour blog updates.”
“Fine, I'll walk yer plank.”
Tal led Evil into the Narthex. “Surprise! Surprise! Happy 1,200,000th hit!” The rest of the minions in the narthex raised a pint o' grog.
“You got me that time.”