Across Grammar in the Parts’ Channel, the members of the Parts’ Panel were holding their monthly meeting. They were the leaders of each word group in Grammar. The Chairword of the Parts’ Panel, who was also the Crown Noun, pitched a stone tablet behind his chair.
“Just another petition from the suffixes,” the Crown Noun scoffed. “They are asking to be recognised as words. When will they learn that they are nothing but appendages? Nouns, on the other hand, are essential, since we name just about everything. If you are not a noun, you must bow down.”
“We are just as essential,” replied the Viscount Verb. “Remember, no sentence is complete without a verb—or Full Stop, our Prime Mark.” His letters billowed as if he had been struck by a gust of air. “We are the life of every sentence. After all, most of us are action words.”
The Crown Noun and the Viscount Verb were comfortably perched on ornate chairs at the front of the room. The other leaders stood in semicircles in front of them, some distance away.
The Captain Conjunction chimed in from an inner circle just beneath the Crown Noun and the Viscount Verb, “Now, now, we know that action words are important, but if we are to build a true Grammarian family, there can be no egos.”
“Family? What family?” the Principal Pronoun griped. To be heard from his post at the outer rim, he had to raise his voice. “After centuries, my words are still outcasts, just substitutes, without permanent jobs. We only get work when the nouns are unwell or too lazy to work. No one cares about our welfare. We cannot even walk through Nounwich, Noun Niche or Noun Nook without a permit. And what about that idiotic Intrepid Interjection? His kind is utterly useless, yet—”
“Ahem!” said the Intrepid Interjection. “I have been classified as critical by a most illustrious Mark.”
“Which illustrious Mark? That alarmist, baseball-bat lookalike they call Exclamation Mark is just as useless as you are,” the Principal Pronoun retorted.
“My nouns cannot be expected to mingle with your kind without prior notice,” said the Crown Noun derisively. “Besides, we have most generously allowed you on this Panel.”
The Principal Pronoun hissed before speaking. “I have half a vote on this Panel, and you and the Viscount Verb have two each.” The Principal Pronoun vaulted up to the Captain Conjunction. “You should do something about this, Captain. Some of your conjunctions are also pronouns. You keep forgetting that many of you are Duals.”
The Captain Conjunction cleared his throat loudly. “Now, now, no need to be spreading fiction. There are no pronouns among the conjunctions, nor are we Duals or Multiples. You are becoming emotional, Principal. Take deep, cleansing breaths.”
“Help us, Captain,” the Principal Pronoun implored. “Conjunctions are bonding words. You link words and sentences. You are supposed to unite Grammar.”
“Your vote, Principal Pronoun,” said the Viscount Verb, “befits your status.”
The Principal Pronoun glanced woefully at the remaining members of the Parts’ Panel—the Arch-Adjective, the Superb Adverb, the President Preposition and the Honorary Member. The Arch-Adjective’s first response was a snicker.
