The Lower Strangling Chronicles
It was an unusually dreary day for May, and the Hangman’s Noose welcomed the residents of Lower Strangling for their monthly charity quiz night, Who Wants to Eat a Millionaire… ‘s Shortcake.
Rather than a million pounds, the winning team received a slice of the pub’s signature Millionaire’s Shortcake. But they were hoping to raise a million pounds for charity, and tonight, it was in aid of giving 250kg of food to a Beluga Whale Sanctuary in Iceland.
Some visitors to the village also participated in the fun, even though they had no idea what was happening, as in-jokes amongst the villagers comprised much of the event.
“Welcome to tonight’s edition of Who Wants to Eat a Millionaire… ‘s Shortcake!” The Rev. Simon Abernathy said, making his best impression of Chris Tarrant despite Jeremy Clarkson presenting Who Wants to Be a Millionaire for the past six years.
He held a slice of Millionaire’s Shortcake aloft. The crowd cooed at the sight of the layer of caramel in between a layer of chocolate and a layer of breadcrumbs.
“Each team should have ten sheets of paper on their tables,” Simon continued as each team ensured they did. “a chosen scribe will write the answers to each question and hand them over to me at the end of each round.”
The team leaders nodded towards Simon once they were ready to start the first round. Some had already held their pens close to the paper in preparation.
“The first round is Lower Strangling,” Simon said. “The questions will be related to this village in some way, either focusing on things you can find or moments in our history.”
The teams the visitors were on glared at the team comprised entirely of people who lived in the village; they had an unfair advantage.
“Which historical figure is depicted in the botanic garden?” Simon said. “Is it the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, or Adolf Hitler?”
The teams leaned closer to one another, hurriedly writing down an answer.
The residents of Lower Strangling knew instantly, of course. The visitors who had just arrived had to make do with a lucky guess.
“Which famous gardener lived at No. 1 Economy Drive a hundred years ago?” Simon said.
A lot of the teams felt like giving up. The Lower Stranglians had rigged the quiz in their favour to have the Shortcake to themselves.
Simon similarly continued the evening with rounds on general history and moments in the Bible, amongst other things.
The Lower Stranglians were in the lead with a thousand and ten points; the other teams were trailing behind.
Eventually, two of Simon’s assistants wheeled a large tank of water into the middle of the pub.
One of the visitors to the village told their teammate that they were unsure what to make of the whole thing.
“The next round is Sink or Float,” Simon said. “You have a list of items on your tables. All you have to do is guess which will sink and which will float.”
The teams quickly wrote down their guesses in a matter of seconds. Soon, it was time to find out if they were correct.
“The can of beans… sunk!” Simon said as a tin can of Heinz Baked Beans fell towards the bottom of the tank.
“The black cabbage… floats!” Simon said as a ball of cabbage bounced off the bottom of the tank and rose to the surface.
Simon’s assistants threw more items into the tank. A lot of contestents were ashamed to be so invested in the spectacle.
“Hopefully, that round helped a few of you to catch up,” Simon said. Choosing to ignore some of the glowers and grimaces he was getting from some of the contestants.
“Shall we just leave?” A woman said to her husband. “It’s well past the children’s bedtimes anyway.”
“Nah,” her husband said. “To leave now would be cowardice. We must see this to the end.”
Eventually, the quiz finally came to an end. The teams waited for their scores in anticipation, although they already knew who would win the Millionaire’s Shortbread.
“In last place… is the Loathsome Grockles with ten points!” Simon said. Several people met this announcement with a halfhearted cheer and a sarcastic round of applause.
The group leader walked over to Simon to receive the consolation prize… a six-pack of Throckmorton Ale.
One by one, Simon read out the teams’ scores until, at last, it was time to hear the result, which no one was surprised about.
“And in first place is… the Mighty Stranglians with two thousand, nine hundred, and sixty points!” Simon said. A cacophony filled the room.
“Rigged! Rigged!” An overweight American man wearing fake tan and an orange wig shouted at the back of the pub.
“I’m sure they will enjoy having the Millionaire’s Shortcake later!” Simon said, after giving the winning team the plate of Shortcake.
After announcing that the event had raised a whopping two thousand and fifty pounds for the Beluga Whale Sanctuary, Simon bid everyone goodnight, and the visitors grumbled into the night towards their cosy holiday cottages.
“I think that went rather well,” Simon said as he bit into his Millionaire’s Shortcake, “I’m sure the Beluga Whales will appreciate the food we’ve given them.”
“Do you think we should make the questions more accessible?” Sarah Peterson, a Guardian journalist who lived in the village, said. “We do seem to keep winning in a landslide.”
“Well, the quiz is fun for us, isn’t it?” Simon said. “I don’t understand why visitors keep joining us.”
“Because the quiz is open for everyone to enter,” John Granger, the owner of the Hangman’s Noose, said.
“Perhaps I could consider shaking things up a bit next year,” Simon said. “It will make things more exciting.”
After the residents of Lower Strangling had eaten the Millionaire’s Shortcake, they finally vacated the pub and walked into the night.
“Goodnight, everyone,” Simon said. “I’ll see some of you in the village hall tomorrow.
“And you,” the others said.
Soon, the village was desolate. Everyone was asleep.
The residents were blissfully unaware of the visitors’ unanimous decision to ensure their next visit to the village did not coincide with a competitive event they were running. They knew well what the result would be.
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The Robinsonverse 