This week Aaron, who is in Grade 6, had to write in the style of Gerald Durrell, whose enchanting book My Family and Other Animals has sent me into giggles for years. He had to adapt a scene (p. 9 for people who have the Penguin version) into a mock horror genre (and punctuate properly). I think he did very well indeed.
“You are,” Larry moaned malignantly, “you’re beginning to look like an evil zombiefied Irish washerwoman and your miserable family looks like a series of illustrations from an undead medical encyclopaedia.”
Mother could think of no really crushing reply to this, because she had no brain, so she contented herself with a malevolent glare before retreating once more behind her rock.
“What we need is darkness,” Larry continued, “don’t you agree, Les? Les. Les…”
Leslie unravelled a large quantity of saturated, blood-coated cotton-wool from one olive ear. “What d’you say?” he asked balefully.
“There you are,” mumbled Larry turning to Mother. “It’s become a major operation to hold a stinking conversation with him. I ask you, what a horrible position to be in! One ghastly brother can’t hear what you say and the other one can’t be understood. Really it’s time something atrocious was done.”
“Yes dear?” said Mother vaguely.
“What we all need,” said Larry getting into his stride again, “is murder, mayhem and maybe some vodka.”
“Yes dear. That would be absolutely dreadful,” agreed Mother, not really listening.
“I had a letter, made of rotten intestines cut up and sewn together, from George this morning. He says the cemetery is wonderful. Why don’t we pack and go to the graveyard at midnight?”
“Very well, dear, if you like,” groaned Mother, ominously.
Whereas Larry wasn’t concerned, she was rarely enthusiastic about the devil king striking the cemetery with thunder.
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