Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?

Attempts to resolve the Quandary:


Dateline: Gotham City, today 2037, five seconds later: Which was, pretty well, just about, when they heard the unmistakeable pneumatic hiss of a lift stopping, and then the wheeeeze as the doors slid open, and into the ICU came a smaller, rather less significant, but quite definitely, a younger version of the Duck they had learned to distrust, fear and loathe, followed closely by Sir Parlane MacFarlane! they were talking quietly, but stopped when they noticed the three in scrubs and it was Dewey (or Huey, or maybe even Louie, for the three were used quite interchangeably in reference to the younger President Trumpet-Trousers, almost as though his identity was less defined than that of his father) who asked: "how's my Dad today?" and Kaplan suggested: "see for yourself," and indicated the patient: "hiya, Dad, how's tricks?" asked Dewey; and to the surprise of the three interlopers, the recognisable voice of Duck Trumpet-Trousers issued from a speaker: "well, son, as you can see I'm still here! but I'm hoping that they will be able to put me together very, very soon, and that will be a happy day, a beautiful day, when I can walk and talk and take my rightful place among the Nations of the Earth and lead New York to the top of the Mountain, because I have seen the Promised Land, and I will show them the other side, and it's a beautiful place and it will be ours . . . . ." but Dewey had switched off the speaker and he turned to MacFarlane with a snort: "the same old garbage; he's seen the Land of Milk and Honey – he means New Jersey! should I pull out the plug and just let him go? thirty years and that's the best I can get out of him," and he sat on a stool and covered his face with his hands and sobbed, "will I ever be free of him, he's always been a mill-stone around my neck, but it's getting worse – all this talk of putting him back together again; we've had the best doctors, the most expensive in the city, but they won't commit themselves, they won't say yea or nay, even Doctor Frankenstein, he says it could either be a great success, or he could lose too much brain-tissue, and just be a vegetable, it was bad enough when he was Donald Duck, if he turns into a Carrot my life won't be worth living!" and as the three imposters watched, a tender scene developed between MacFarlane and the pathetic little President; the Scottish nobleman held the sobbing American and soothed him, while Dewey blubbered onto the older man's shirt: "all I wanted was to devote my life to songcraft, you know, write songs, beautiful songs, about love and Dolores, I never wanted to be President, and they all compare me with him, they never mention my name without his, they censure me for stuff he did, they call me a mammothrept like I'm a naughty little kid, they criticize my choice of couturier, of hairstylist, of dentist, of speech-writer, of secretary – they call Dolores names, you know? it's so unfair, and such a burden for me to carry, and everything I do is compared to Him!" until, evidently becoming exasperated, the Scotchman said: "ye could aye pu' the plug oan 'im!" at which Dewey pulled away, seemingly scared that his father might have been listening, but when all that could be heard was the apparent snoring from the body on the bed, he seemed to become suddenly aware of the trio in scrubs: "what is the prognosis, Doctor?" he peered at Kaplan's name badge, "Mengele? please tell me the truth, I deserve it," and Kaplan pulled himself together: "to be honest, I don't believe that it will ever be possible to reunite the parts of President Trumpet-Trousers to their former glory; it may be that the time has come for you to close the final chapter of his life and move on with your own," at which the younger man seemed elated: "you know, Sir P," he said, his eyes glowing with tears and pride, "this is the first Doctor to lay it on the line for me, to tell it like it really is, I need to get on with my own life after living in my Old man's shadow all these years!" and MacFarlane replied crisply: "dae it noo then, laddie, ye must strike, like a farrier or blacksmith, while the iron's hot!" and Dewey reached out for Hyman's hand, "let me thank you Doctor Mengele, you have relieved me of a burden – will you do this for me?" and Kaplan glanced quickly about the room, eventually spotting what looked like the Master Power Switch, a red handle, in the middle of a console of dials and switches; "if that is your wish, Mr President," he said formally, "I cannot but accede," and Dewey looked puzzled: "you can't do it? is it your Hypocritical Oath?" but Hyman shook his head, "no sir, I will," and he took the lever and pulled it sharply down! the lights flickered, the monitors buzzed in protest, a voice cried out from the squawk box, "you fucking bastard, you pipsqueak, you rattlesnake, you mamothrept, you snivelling Mamma's Boy, you little . . . . ." and there was silence – every monitor went to flatline, every dial lost it's light, all that was left in the room, apart from the five people who stood there, were the flickering overhead lights: President Donald Duck Trumpet-Trousers' journey had reached it's Final Destination!

(by MissTeriWoman)


Lady Penelope was simply looking for a talented couturier to create some stunning clothes for her upcoming meeting but her friend mistakenly gave her the name of an expert in songcraft instead, leading to some embarrassment, and thus to the rather severe censure of her friend's diary-keeping abilities, for she called her friend a mammothrept, and then all was over between them.

(by OldRawgabbit)
The Quandary for Sunday, October 01, 2017 consisted of: Challenge: use all four words together in one illustrative sentence.

Since September 2009, word lovers have offered 7814 sentences — each one a surprise — to QQ's unique and growing library. Explore other Quandaries through our word list or the calendar below. View yesterday's QQ resolutions or pick a day at random.


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