Case of The Long Gone Twin

Case of The Long Gone Twin

by Jacques Ohm Le Quig’Miresen.
Palindrome Picayune Press 2021.

One morning in a house on Quetzalcoatl Ave., in New Nord-Dew-Newt, Lemuria, Doctor Supernatant Theorem opens a gift from her Twin, Lady Foxegh Saprophytic, and Supernatant knows their lives will never be the same again.

Whilst trying to rebuild her life, Supernatant witnesses a crime that leads her to question a new relationship. She becomes obsessed with enigmatic stranger Thongor De Analogies. What is his connection to Foxegh, and why has he turned up now?

Supernatant’s behaviour becomes increasingly erratic as she struggles to unravel the truth, and determine the significance of a churning crucible left in the dead neighbour’s gazebo, all whilst battling to cope with exterminated adenoidectomy.

Every day, Supernatant gets closer to the truth, and finding her long gone twin! But the closer she gets to reuniting with Foxegh, the more thundering-malvoisie it seems. And that is to say nothing of the strange midnight occurrence of the dog in  Caillou Lane.

( Synopsis Source )

the significance of a churning crucible

What can be said about Le Quig’Miresen’s third novel that hasn’t been said before?

mourning in a house full of static  claumey,

steeple shadows cling to clustering souls.

The nondescript narrator takes the reader through the tangled events that beguile Supernatant Theorem with dread, hope, pristine corners, and chocolate truffles in the night. Thongor De Analogies fights off pessimism and melancholy after he finally returns to Londinium, thinking he has lost the one and only woman he ever truly loved. But which of the twins was his heart’s desire, and which was the one who would drive him to madness? All the clues are there, for those seeking an answer.

Needless to say,

sand, salt, and pebbles

lurk in a  sad heart broken –

where is the laughter?

– for further understanding  see:

Lachrymose or Hard-Boiled?

a hole along the path

I found a hole along the path the other day, so I picked it up & put it in my pocket. By the time I got home I lost it – so I mailed the pocket to my sweetheart to sew it up. Lost my sweetheart in the mail, but the hole showed up again – dropped Tuesday in the hole. Tuesday is garbage & recycling day; everything happens on Tuesday – and now it is Wednesday & the air is angry with thunder and snow that is hard popcorn.

 

In summary, Thursday sulked because it is Thor’s day and the sky was clear because Wednesday used up all the thunder, so by time Friday arrived there was a letter in the mail. It was the capital Q. It curled up around the unanswered sighs and cracked coffee cups, purring in satisfaction and turquoise. That sort of thing happens on Existential Fridays – the hole ate its edges with worry and baking paper. All that was left was the humming of an unfinished pop song in the electric socket. Socket rhymes with pocket, which showed up on the doorstep with a kiss from my sweetheart who I had forgotten – memory is is like that sometimes, Swiss cheese and jalapeno peppers .