Usually to be found at the heart of the alphabet, the letter which absconded didn’t know what to do with itself.
It had had enough. It needed a rest, as all letters do now and again. It went on a Greek island holiday with cardinals 1, 4, and 9, had sex with two of the three and – over the sex it had had with the others – a falling out with the third. It was flailing about, you could tell, drinking to excess, unsure of what the future held. It was unhappy with the role assigned it in life and wanted out. But it just didn’t know what to do with itself, if not to give itself to the ongoing work of the alphabet and thus both the unlikely and the predictable predilections of users of language both good and bad. Untold verbiage would be lost if it never returned. The opposite of go, the definition of bliss. A theory of cash; all theories of cash, in fact. Slaves and servants would go unpunished for the errors of their ways. Counties would have to be retitled. Hapshire, Iddlesex, Cubria. Countries too. Oldavia, Zabia, Denark. Ozabique would stretch coprehension. Coprehension would be stretched all round. That noise we produce signifying that we like a thing, signified by four of the letter in question? No longer possible. Xxxx, ice crea; I screa, you screa, we all screa for ice crea.
On its return, the letter went to see the Council of Three to explain its unauthorised absence and its associated loss of drive. Q, the Elder, swivelled a beady eye and regarded the renegade letter like the ‘U’s which it kept under specially close scrutiny, while the Chief Vowel (E) and Consonant (D) chorused, you think you’ve got it tough? Try being us, as indispensable as we are. We never get to take a break, and we don’t see why you should. Get a grip. Pull yourself together. Don’t be so selfish. Get back to work. Q nodded assent. The Three had spoken.
That decided the letter. It was high tie it went, never to coe back. The Latin alphabet and language of all tongues would have to ake do without it. The letter was deterined it would lead a silent, onastic (and likely onanastic) existence far fro the yriad towers of Babel which had shot up all over the earth. Languages now would have to interbreed and borrow fro each other plus que was already the case. For a tie, things would stop aking sense, until they started aking it all over again. Opportunist Esperanto seized the day, reinventing itself without the issing letter.
Near-tragically, what the letter didn’t know, which ight have kept it on the straight and narrow, was that it was loved by another, a letter touched by it at a distance. X rarely if ever got to nestle in the sae word, let alone next to its beloved, but how it adired the ountainous letter’s peaks and valley, its ellifluous, elliferous sound. X wanted to centre itself on it. Ake sweet usic with it, full of elody and harony. So X too ran away, unnoticed at first, till creatures were wanted for tethering to a plough, and people shifting house had to ake do with boes. Not to ention the kisses required for signing off letters; k or t or o would have to stand in.
X caped outside the herit letter’s cave, till gradually a new language coprised only of notes of appreciation and kisses was born, and X was finally invited to enter the cave, there to reain always. Centred at last.