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:


And while the Popinjay, Roland Biggles, high stepped across the sidewalk towards the Diner, Kaplan's cell-phone rang and he answered on the third: "hey, Hymie, can you speak?" and Hyman laughed, said: "when I open my mouth, Callum, words come out, but yeah, I'm with friends, told them what you told me, so we're up to speed," and the Chief Stenographer from the Bronx Courthouse but now calling from Nova Scotia chuckled: "some things improve with age, Hymie, but not your jokes, though it's always good to hear your voice, takes me back to when we were kids; but this isn't a Friends Reunited call, I have some more information for you: after we spoke yesterday, I called Captain Maloney at HQ – he's been running the search for Ms Shann-Delleer – I told him I was 80% certain I had seen her up here and he's hoping to get a response from the local cops; now, because it's cross-border, he has to go through channels – you know the kind of thing," and Kaplan did, but he asked: "how long will that take?" although he guessed the answer: "piece of string, though as it's a high profile case, I'm sure the authorities here will try to speed it up . . . . ." which was when Roland, the Popinjay, slid into the seat beside Kaplan, blowing kisses to Rose and Sadie, but ignoring Kaplan, waiting to be acknowledged, "sorry Cal, something came up, I'll get back to you later," and ended the call; he glanced sideways: "excuse me, do I know you?" and the languid reply came back: "not yet!" and then his nose wrinkled: "is there something olid in this place?" and Hyman replied, "yeah, you stood in dogshit out there," which agitated Roland, and caused him to slide out of the booth, quickstep outside and scrape the soles of his boots before coming back in, and this time he introduced himself: "you must be Mr Kaplan, I'm very pleased to meet you, my name is Roland" which he pronounced Ro-Land, "Biggles, I'm Fashion Editor at Columbia People," so Hyman introduced himself formally: "Hyman Z Kaplan, Social Editor at Retirement News Weekly," but Ro-Land didn't even pick up on it: "the girls here," he said, indicating Sadie and Rose, either of whom could have been his mother – hey, maybe, at a pinch, a youngish Grandmother, who knows? "thought it best if I met you in person to tell you what I know;" and Hyman sighed, he knew he looked careworn, though he preferred to think of himself as mellowing, he knew his dress-sense went out with Hippies, Yippies and Bippies, he knew his hair – once, he liked to think, his crowning glory – was limp and thinning like Red Sox fans when they are taking a hiding to nothing from The Yankees, and he suddenly realised that he had been set up for a Makeover, and looked around for the hidden cameras, but Ro-Land was still speaking: ". . . . . not answering her phone, returning messages, or been in contact with anyone for at least 72 hours and that, I promise you, is so unlike her and her poor cats are devastated, I mean they live for her, they absolutely dote on her, they are just prowling about the studio bereft, that's the only word for it, bereft!" now Kaplan couldn't get with the anthropomorphism of animal lovers, but he tried to put that aside: "so what do you think happened, what's her full name?" and Ro-Land pulled out a cell and scrolled to a photo which he showed Kaplan, saying: "Florence Dorothy, Biggles of course, we're twins, and answering Kaplan's unspoken next question, 32, 33 in May," and then Hyman asked: "what do you think happened to her?" and tears started to trickle down the young man's face before he spoke: "well, they, the cops found her car, it had been towed after being pasted down under the Freeway, near where that Ho killed her attacker – good for her! there's no reason why she'd be down there, maybe it was stolen from somewhere else, and dumped, but the cops said it hadn't been hot-wired, so whoever drove it hadda have the key, but where's Flo?" and an unlikely thought was pulling a bell at the back of Hyman's head and he always paid attention when that happened: "so the last time you saw her was?" a beat: "last Thursday, but we spoke on the phone on the Friday afternoon, then nothing, and the car was pasted on Saturday morning and towed in the afternoon," which was exactly the same thing that had happened to Crystal Shann-Delleer's car, same routine on the same day: pasted in the morning, towed in the afternoon, and he remembered the case of the Trans girl who had shot her attacker and he remembered where the killing had taken place, under the Freeway, a vacant lot used by cheap hookers out in all weathers, and the two women who looked like hookers that Cal had seen on Prince Edward Island, and one of them, according to Cal, was the DA . . . . . "okay guys, we seem to have a picture developing here, Rose, can you ask Lulu for a bottle of Reposado? it's impossible to work without a clear head," and to Ro-Land: "it's not certain, but your sister may be alive, at the moment, that's the best we can hope for, now I do know that the cops are investigating another abduction but I think that your sister and another woman were abducted at around the same time and place – I'm not sure where they are but the Chief in the Bronx has been given an indication of an area and he is lasing out of his jurisdiction; so I'm going to call him and tell him what you told me, ah. here's the bottle, okay Ro-Land, pour us one each and down the hatch!"

(by MissTeriWoman)


My Uncle Jack bore a careworn look
As he walked his old dog down the street.
The dog was olid and scruffy, and took
An age to rise to its feet.
But Jack had some reposado at home
That got him through most of his day.
And then he would call his dog a good friend
In an anthropomorphic display.
(by OldRawgabbit)
The Quandary for Monday, January 29, 2018 consisted of: Challenge: use all four words together in one illustrative sentence.

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