Snarklings around the world have received their marching orders:
"drop everything and give me ten...books"
Well not exactly, but it looks like that to them. They must produce a brilliant narrative of 500 words in less that a day or risk forever being branded a nitwit. They all puzzle over how to incorporate bunion, galleycat, terrapin and snark in a coherent narrative. "Wait a minute, isn't there some connection between the mythical snark and a terrapin somewhere?" they wonder.
Those that received their charge late last night already dreamt of promenading poodles led by killer yap that turn on them and devour their substandard work. In the early morning hours of half consciousness they think "how in the world am I supposed to use "your mother wears Army boots" or "roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd" in any kind story with all those other words. As they awake they realize their real nightmare has just begun. There are only sixteen more hours to finish. Forget the work they brought home that's due Monday morning. Forget the kid's breakfast. Their ego is at stake. They must" rise to the occasion" (oops one cliché to many?).
Now they're all off to do research. "Who the hell is "Bat Segundo"? What's a "will of the wisp"?" They dare not risk being impaled by Miss Snark's stiletto heels for their ignorance. Well, even if they are shot by the Clue Gun for their total lack of ability, they'll have learned something. Miss Snark will have achieved one of her goals.
Snarklings stare at their clocks. How typical they think. "She chooses a day with only twenty three hours. Just like an agent. They're never fair!" Will they be able to muddle through and create a winner before 12:01? We'll all find out tomorrow.
Oh that IS hilarious!! I didn't realize the day had only 23 hours! This is pretty funny.
Scores to come