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Writers as kids

March 5, 2008
gawker writers as kids

Thanks to Gawker for this…

Famous Writers as Children

The Harold Pinter one is priceless:

Grandpa Pap

Excerpt from My Birthday Party, by Harold Pinter (aged 8):

HAROLD’S MUM: Would you like a slice of cake, Harold?

HAROLD: Yes please.

HAROLD’S MUM: Well then, there you are. (serves cake)

HAROLD: Yes. Cake’s nice.

HAROLD’S MUM: Oh? It is a nice cake isn’t it?

HAROLD: Yes. (eats cake) Nice piece of cake.

HAROLD’S MUM: Dad? Do you want a piece of Harold’s cake?

HAROLD’S GRANDDAD (standing at the window, smoking a cigarette): The secret is breathing. Take my tip. It’s a well-known fact. Breathe in, breathe out, take a chance, let yourself go, what can you lose? Look at me. When I was an apprentice yet, Harold, every second Friday of the month my Uncle Barney used to take me to the seaside, regular as clockwork. Brighton, Canvey Island, Rottingdam — Uncle Barney wasn’t particular. After lunch on Shabbuss we’d go and sit in a couple of deck chairs — you know, the ones with canopies — we’d have a little paddle, we’d watch the tide coming in, going out, the sun coming down — golden days, believe me, Harold. Uncle Barney. Of course, he was an impeccable dresser. One of the old school. He had a house just outside Basingstoke at the time. Respected by the whole community. Culture? Don’t talk to me about culture. He was an all-round man, what do you mean? He was a cosmopolitan.

Lovely stuff. I can see the seeds of both The Birthday Party and The Homecoming in there. Very Max and Lenny. And birthday party-ish.

I wish that this was my job, gently mocking writers in their own style.

The Emily Dickinson one is very appropriate for her:

Igiari

My New Book, by Emily Dickinson, aged 7

Today my Daddy bought me a new book –
It is – a grammar book.
Inside – do you know? –
There are new realms of – punctuation.
My – favourite – new discovery
Is simply – the dash –

Oh this is so wrong it’s right:

Professor K

Testimony In Court
By Dr. Suess (age 11)

I just cowered like a mouse.
For my uncle Larry was quite a louse.

He made me get naked and start to dance.
Then he put my hands into his pants.

And that’s when I shouted without much glee,
In fact I said quite angrily

“I will not do the naked dance!
I will not get inside your pants!

I will not touch your noodle in this house!
I will not put your noodle in my mouth!

I will not do it on a plane!
I will not do it on a train!”

He looked at me strange and put on a hat.
Then said:
“Good boys like pussy! Pretend I’m a cat!”

What happened next I care not to explain,
But later that day authorities came.

The End

I probably shouldn’t post any more, or else the whole site will be on here. But, go, read. This I like.

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