[left]Just read a mailing from Karl Keeting soliciting donation for the campaign against the movie version of The Da Vinci Code. While I don’t cite my sources, here (The Da Vinci Hoax and Akin’s essay), I felt inspired, so I hacked this out this evening. This isn’t meant to be a complete or expert refutation of the novel (and it’s not been edited). Just having some fun:[/left]
The Dan-Brown-Wants-Your-Money Code
By Spencer Allen
All imitations of tacky prose, corny dialogue, and Christian-bashing bigotry in this parody are accurate.
*In possession of the shocking and suppressed truth about The Da Vinci Code, our hero Rupert Handsome evades the relentless pursuit of psuedo-intellectual conspiracy theorists and anti-Catholic zealots. Finally, accompanied by the naïve, yet beautiful Soapy Neauclieu, he seeks refuge at the home of his close friend, Sir Steve Teapot. *
As Handsome tore through the night, a thick wall of quiet elms eventually gave way to a sprawling estate, within which a massive two-story house sat a safe distance back from an impregnable black gate.
“My goodness,” Soapy said, her voice trembling with ecstasy. “Is that where Teapot lives?”
“Hardly.” Handsome smiled. “That’s the house Dan Brown built after the con job he pulled on Christians. Teapot lives a few miles down the road.”
They raced into the night until finally pulling into the driveway of a small white house, where a single light shined from an upstairs bedroom.
“I have to warn you before we go in, Teapot is a bit of a character compared to many other Catholics you might have encountered.” He smiled knowingly.
“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice bubbling with confusion.
“Well, he actually believes in following the Spirit-guided teachings of the Church. He even goes to confession on a regular basis.”
Leading the way to the front door, Handsome knocked firmly and straightened his tweed jacket, which intellectual characters should always own when the author is trying to trick you into thinking they are smarter than you are.
“I saw you pull up, old friend,” a voice called from an upstairs window. “Come on in.”
The living room was nothing like Soapy had expected. While stacked with books, the furniture was modest and nondescript. A painting of the Virgin Mary hung over the divan. “I thought it would be much fancier,” Soapy said, her voice oozing with disappointment.”
“If this were a Dan Brown novel, it would be. He likes to make his characters wealthy, sophisticated, and dashing. It’s sort of like a magic act, where the illusionist uses a half-naked assistant to distract you from the cheap trick.” He chuckled.
“I see,” she said, her voice dripping with understanding.
Just then a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, descending them carefully. He wore jeans and a T-shirt and struggled down with the help of crutches.
“Did you get crippled from polio when you were young like the guy in that novel?” Soapy asked, her voice bursting with hasty conclusion.
“No. Softball,” Teapot said, hopping down the last couple stairs. “Twisted my angle rounding third.”