In this univocalic story from The Snowman Three Doors Down, Ebenezer and Celeste have to decipher a coded message sent by the settlers. This may mean trouble for Fessenden. Here’s how it begins…

THE SECRET SENTENCE

Ebenezer’s beeper beeped.

He pressed the desk beeper; Celeste entered the belvedere.“Yes?” she beseeched.

He greeted her, petted the settee. She tested the red felt, settled her belted velveteen dress there, shed her checkered beret.

Ebenezer held three deckle-edged sheets. “The settlers sent these,” he wheezed.

Celeste clenched her teeth. “The repellent settlers,” she seethed. “The helpless bedwetters. The dregs.”

The Bethlehem Brethren nestled the settlement, Western Eden, between deserted fern-bedecked glens. There, the settlers kept bees, herded sheep, tended the cress beds, fed the geese, erected fences, swept the temple, mended the evergreen hedges. The men elected the eldest, Fessenden, exec: he refereed melees between the shepherds, prevented the beekeepers’ keenest excesses, stemmed the revelers’ fevered keggers. He sent the Brethren the settlement’s emblements, kept the ledgers.

“Well, the extreme elements depress them,” fretted Ebenezer. “The sleet’s severe. Endless tempests drench the greenbelt, swell the creeks. Relentless December breezes freeze the cheerless cement cells. The feed’s never fresh: the eggs smell, the cheese reeks, ferrets deplete the green peppers, beetle feces wreck the fennel seeds. The wet spelt kernels ferment. The men get restless, then reckless. Yet Fessenden’s decent.”

“Fessenden’s dense,” she jeered. “Hell, he’s the densest dweeb there.”

“He never pretended he’s clever. Nevertheless, he’s been excellent,” Ebenezer defended. “The genteel bellwether, the fervent trendsetter, the level presence. He deserves respect; he’s served the Brethren well.” …