A year ago this past June, I wrote an “Ode to Edward Gorey,” which was in reality a poorly-done knock-off of his The Gashlycrumb Tinies, which I’ve always just loved. My sense of humor is admittedly macabre. Well, I wrote another, equally poor, knock-off this morning and I can’t think of a better time to post it than right now.
Twenty-Six Kids Who Died (Another Ode to Edward Gorey)
A is for Andy who smoked crack and died
B is for Bonnie who fell off a slide
C is for Connie, ate tablets for pain
D is for Darwin, beat with a chain
E is for Ernie, who poisoned himself
F is for Frankie, killed by an elf
G is for Glynda, who breathed in some wax
H is for Harry, succumbed to attacks
I is for Irma, who swallowed some pills
J is for Julie, felled by the chills
K is for Karin, attacked by a stray cat
L is for Larry, struck by a bat
M is for Mary, who fell off a house
N is for Nancy, pecked to death by a grouse
O is for Opal, an alligator’s dinner
P is for Paula, ‘cause she was a sinner
Q is for Quincy, stabbed with a pick
R is for Ronald, bit by a tick
S is for Saundra, beaten by thugs
T is for Terry, too many drugs
U is for Ulsie, who fell from a tower
V is for Vickie, drowned in the shower
W is for Werner, pierced by an arrow
X is for Xeno, who chewed on some yarrow
Y is for Yana, scalded in lye,
Z is for Zane, while trying to fly.
If I could do pen and ink drawings that rivaled Gorey’s, I might feel more pride about what I wrote. But I can’t. So I don’t.
