‘A vaunt! I tells yer, A vaunt,’ quoth the Monkey (AKA Dave Freer, author, philosopher, polymath – he can add parrots, man of letters (rejection letters)).
To which the traditional reply from the assembled multitude* was, naturally: ‘Vot iss it dat you vaunt?**’
At which point the monkey rolled his eyes, and, as you should never do this while swinging from branch to branch (a common pastime of monkeys, I can highly recommend it) missed the next branch and hit the tree with a sickening crunch. This meant some delay (locating glasses and tail, picking up teeth) before he could get back onto a treetop perch and beat his simianly chest and shout “A vaunt!”
“I wish you would,” said a passing pissant… or micturating passant, as she walked past. “Avaunt then. Get lost.”
The monkey, much deflated at the failure of his feeble efforts to call attention to himself, muttered. ‘A vaunt. A boast. Not a banishment.”
“Well, those who boast should be banished,” said the pissant. “Anyway, what has a manky old monkey got to boast about? Bad taste? Depraved humor?”
“Well, yes, those naturally. But I consider them a gift.”
“Is that why you try to inflict them on us?” asked the Multitude, who had come along to pelt the monkey with small soft objects of the date-expired nature. Fortunately monkeys have no particular objection to this and tend to catch them and throw them back.
The monkey shrugged. “It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. But actually I was talking about my Novella CRAWLSPACE. It’s a work of genius ***, and right now it’s available for a brief period only, as a FREE download on Amazon. I thought if I vaunted it, maybe few more than the bare handful *# who have done so might go and give it a go, chase it up the rankings, and make suitable derogatory comments on Amazon. It’s not like I was expecting rogatory comments or something. Ah well. I shall sink back into obscurity.
“I always suspected you were an obscurantist, said the pissant, going off to spend good money downloading yet another pleasant (to her) turgid tome of literary socialist political maunderings from the latest publishing PC-brigade pet, without working out that… this is now obscurantist.
Monkey, who had worked this out, sniggered at her back, by far her most attractive feature, and said: “Niggardly knave. Here I offered you gifts of prose typed with my very own feet, which might have stirred that porridge you have for a brain and made you laugh to boot, and you go off and comfort yourself in the blatherings of that old-fashioned ilk.”
The pissant turned around and shook her fist the monkey. “I heard you. Two N words in one sentence. I’m… I’m going to TELL on you. And you’ll be SORRY.”
“Too late,” said the Monkey who was sorry, but for entirely the wrong reasons.
In the meanwhile the Multitude, having run out of squishy fruit, and having their curiosity tickled (it’s under the armpits of the average multitude, meaning you have to really want to do this) said “So what’s this Crawlspace Novella about then? plumbing? Nasty things living under houses?”
The monkey managed to avoid rolling his eyes again. “No, space, as in ‘lots and lots of nothing’. It’s science fiction, see. About space. And an asteroid full of mining tunnels, left by some alien species, who were shorter than most humans. And it’s a murder mystery with uplifted elephant shrews and uplifted genetically modified bats.’
“Do they-a-vaunt want to trink your blud?” said the Multitude showing some enthusiasm. The Multitude liked sparkly vampires.
“Not normally, but for you I am sure that they could make an exception, said the Monkey, thinking that obscurity (a shire of Flinders Island, Tasmania, Australia, where he lives) has much to commend it after all.
And so: it’s there. Go get it free. It may make you laugh and it might make you think. It’s not going to appeal to the taste of Ms Pissant. But it ought to entertain.
*there was only one multitude. Sorry, it takes a long time to assemble them. They come in kit form.
** And this, if you needed it, is a good reason to avoid summonsing any Germanic accented demons.
*** Genius is a relative term. When it is applied to my relatives there is usually something of a sarcastic tone attached.
*# Monkey has big hands. 250 so far – which is a long way short of his 10 K target.