Page 2 - Lulu and Bob in Verbo City

“Tell me again,” said Lulu, closing the front door behind her,
“where Uncle Bunster had to go this morning.”
“Oh, he is such a hypochondriac,” said Bob with a dismissive
gesture. “He claimed he’s suffering from logorrheic paronomasia, and
went to see a semanticist.”
“Really? All he needs to do is talk less and make fewer bad puns.”
They walked into the study. Their uncle had found it necessary
upon their first visit, years earlier, to point out exactly which room
that was, owing to the presence of groaning shelves and tottering
stacks of books in every room of his house.
“All right.” Bob put down the sack he had been carrying. “What
are we supposed to do with these nasty things? The wordseller
packed them up in this insulated bag so they’d stay warm. Can’t we
just leave them for Uncle Bunster to deal with?”
“That would be way too easy!” Lulu shook her head. “No, we
have some instructions here, somewhere.”
Bob rummaged in his pockets. “All I’ve got here is the printed
‘care and feeding’ brochure for sesquipedalians we were given at the
shop. Uncle gave you the note describing what he wanted us to pick
up for him.”

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