Ella Minnow Pea

Thursday, November 16

Dear Mr. Rederick Lyttle,

Here is the sentence you require, delivered prior to the deadline imposed by the High Council—indeed, with three whole hours to spare.

Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.

Please note that this sentence is exactly 32 letters in length. It contains the requisite appearances of each of the 26 letters of the English alphabet. The sentence contains, further, no contractions or arguable proper names. It is, incidentally, neither declarative nor interrogative, but, in fact, is in the imperative mood. It is a command, Mr. Lyttle. An appropriate response to fifteen weeks of High Council orders, mandates, and edictal behests.

I must inform you that I did not come up with the sentence myself. The credit should actually go to my father Amos Minnow Pea. If, indeed, credit is due. I maintain that because the sentence was created unintentionally, in the course of a quickly penned farewell letter to my mother and me, Pop should not own responsibility. Nor should anyone. Or, perhaps, all of us.

And this is why I venture to tell you the truth of its genesis, risking, of course, a strict interpretation of your challenge. I venture so, for this reason, Mr. Lyttle: any one of us could have come up with such a sentence. We are, when it comes right down to it, all of us: mere monkeys at typewriters. Like Nollop. Nollop, low-order primate elevated to high-order ecclesiastical primate, elevated still further in these darkest last days to ultimate prime A grade superior being. For doing that which my father did without thinking. Think about it.

Truly yours,

Ella Minnow Pea

Alto I no tat Nollop isn’t trewlee going awae. Tee reason: I am not going awae. I will learn to tawg in noomerals. I will learn sign langwage—anee-ting to stae in Nollop. I, Mr. Little, ant tee sparse-peoples still strolling Nollop’s santee, saltee-air seasite, gaseing at sonrises too glorios to plase into worts—we will possess tease tings alwaes! Nollop troo also in ower memories—teep, teep witin ower soles.

I was apowt to post this letter when I hear: 3 more tiles plommet: a “T,” an “R,” an “H.” Another “T” remains in plase. Another “R” ant another “H” as well. Ella may wish to no, tho, that essept phor “O” there are no more twins. The remaining letters are all singletons.

You don’t have to see me off. I know you’re worried about Tassie. Be there with her, for her. But if you do come, please do me a small favor—a large favor, really. I’m not able to transport my miniature moonshine jugs to the pier. I would like to take them with me, though. You know that where I’m going they will be as good as money. You’ll find them in my studio—stored together—all ten dozen of them. Half that number should suffice. Put them in one of the little crates; they’ll be easier to convey that way.

Would you mind doing this one last thing for me? Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs?

Thank you.

Be well. Be safe.

Until we meet again.

Your loving husband and father,

Amos

Eventually, Lyttle spoke again: “I may be alone within the Council in leaving open the possibility that this theory—this careful interpretation of events as you present it to me—may very well ring true. Nevertheless, young man, it is still important for me to see more compelling proof”—Nate was obviously upset by this response, but kept his temper: “But you have the lab reports, sir. They’re right in front of you. What more is necessary?”

“You’ve given me the scientific reason for why the tiles are falling, Mr. Warren. But might not Nollop be working through the science? Have you ever thought of this? The science, in point of fact, actually serving his specific purposes. Therefore, that of which I must have positive proof—the single fact that I must know for certain is that the Great Nollop isn’t working at all!”

I love you, Mother. (Please Heavenly Nollop, spare “V” till the last, so that I may continue to profess my affection for my precious mamah!)

A little not-so-positive news: Amos has been caught in offense number two. In last night’s poker game. It was such a foolish mistake. It might have gone without report except that Morton who owes him money chose to employ outright extortion against poor, hapless Amos. Amos’s preference was for not playing along. Imagine the effrontery: Morton attempting to ignore the offense in exchange for clearance of a rather large financial obligation. Amos thought, of course, that Morton was bluffing. Unfortunately, in this particular game, it turns out, Morton was not.

I say foolish, because any competent contemporary poker player knows that this game is rife with lexical pitfalls. Best to play in wary silence. Yet Amos wasn’t silent. In fact, Amos, thanks to chugging back four bottles of stout lager, was anything but silent. May I repeat an important part of this last statement? Four. Bottles. Yes, Amos has fallen totally off the wagon. Moreover, the wagon has all but run over him.

The wages for the topple were high: by concentrating a little too much on refraining from use of the fourth letter, he was to employ by careless miscalculation the tantamountifically perilous tenth letter of the alphabet. Thank Screnity the suit in his possession was hearts or he might be on a boat Satto-gatto morning. (King, Consort, Knave. Knave! I thought all poker players were in agreement on these new royal appellations!)

OFFICE OF HIGH ISLAND COUNCIL
NOLLOPTON

Friday, September 15

Dear Nollop Dweller:

Many of you have visited the Council office over the last several days, voicing concern over how best to express in the absence of the letter “D”—which leaves us at midnight tonight—each of the seven days of the week. This is a valid concern, but not one that should in any way threaten daily discourse. For instead of the calendrical terms Monday, Tuesday and so forth, we cheerfully offer the following surrogates. Use them freely and often, for their use honors us all.

For Sunday, please use Sunshine

For Monday, please use Monty

For Tuesday, please use Toes

For Wednesday, please use Wetty

For Thursday, please use Thurby

For Friday, please use Fribs

For Saturday, please use Satto-gatto

Parents: you may wish to help your children absorb these new words by turning the process into a game of some sort, simple flash cards also constituting a tried and efficient course.

Sincerely,

Hamilton Ferguson

Chief Secretary

High Island Council

As we will sorely miss the loss of “D” effective as of midnight tonight. (Have you not noticed the product of my decision to dribble this dreadful diatribe with as many uses of the doomed fourth letter as possible?) Only idiots, dear Cousin, or certifiable madmen would assign divine purpose to ridding ourselves of the tools not only with which to address Heaven itself (Henceforth “Deity” and “Divinity” and even the word “God” will be outlawed. The Council makes the following substitutional suggestions: “Omnigreatness” and “Screnity.”) but also of the ability as of midnight to discuss with anything but great difficulty everything that has occurred in the sanctified past. In taking “ed” away (Goodbye, Ed!), the most useful tool to express the past tense in the English language, we are being robbed of great chunks of our very history. This constitutes, in my opinion, a significant crime, an egregious sin, and one humongolacity of a daunting challenge.

My brother Clay, whom you may know—I believe you trade at his confectionery—believes that the falling tiles do not in any sense indicate a desire on the part of the very late Mr. Nollop to remove these letters from our language. He believes, in fact, the exact opposite. That this is Nollop’s way of encouraging us to use these special letters more than ever before. They are being singled out for this purpose and this purpose alone.

He is founding a movement.