Charlie and the Snicket Factory
Apr 19, 2017 20:49:01 GMT -5
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Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Apr 19, 2017 20:49:01 GMT -5
Chapter 1
Charlie Boddy was a young boy who lived in Australia. He was not rich or famous. He was kind-hearted but modest, and as far as looks went he was sort of a scrawny guy. He lived with his parents, Sam and Lemona, and his grandfather Hermes in a run-down little shack on the edge of Melbourne. Rent was sky-high, so that was all the four of them could afford.
Charlie's parents both worked all day. His grandfather had once been a philosopher of some reknown, but was now too old and feeble to work and spent most of the day in bed. They always made enough to keep a roof over their heads, and had enough to eat, but they ate simply and rarely had extra money for niceties. Every day the four of them would eat slices of toast slathered with promite for breakfast, scoops of hommus for lunch, and slices of toast slathered with hommus for dinner. Sometimes his father Sam would bring home a jar of orange marmalade as a special treat, but only for when Lemona wasn't around.
Charlie loved to read. Reading was a form of escape for him, a way for him to forget about his own dreary life. Most days after school he could be found at the local library, a stack of books under his arm, wishing he could own his own books but knowing his family was too poor. And so he made his trek to the library day after day, checking out books and making sure to return them on time so as to avoid late fees.
His favorite books to read were a series of books about three unfortunate orphans. The orphans had a lot of terrible things happen to them, but they also had a lot of exciting things happen. At the beginning of the story they lived in a mansion with their very own private library. After that their parents died, all their belongings burned up in a fire, and a terrible man began chasing them from place to place, but wherever they went they still managed to see exciting sights, make interesting friends, and eat exotic foods. Charlie liked to imagine he was one of them sometimes, helping Violet invent a grappling hook or Klaus decipher a poem or Sunny make lox.
The man who wrote the books, Lemony Snicket, was notoriously reclusive; in fact no one had ever seen his face. As it happened, the man lived in the very same town as Charlie! Or at least that was how the story went. Other versions said that the man had died years ago, or that Lemony Snicket was really a pen name for a woman, or that it was a pen name for a woman who had died years ago. All Charlie knew was that the enormous building he passed every morning on the way to school, and again in the afternoon, was ringed by an imposing set of gates emblazoned with the name Snicket. No one ever went in or came out, but there was often smoke coming from the chimney, and he spotted the occasional delivery truck stopping by to retrieve or deliver boxes.
One day Charlie was at the library, checking to see if any of his favorite books were on the shelf, when the librarian came up him excitedly. "Have you heard the news?" she shouted.
"No, Ms. Sophie," Charlie shook his head.
"It's about that author you like, Lemony Snicket," she went on breathlessly. "You know no one's ever seen him; he corresponds through writing with his publisher. Anyhow, I've heard through the librarian grapevine that that may all be changing! There's to be an official announcement on the television this evening, during the six o'clock news, and I have it on good authority that Snicket himself will be there!"
Charlie's face fell. "Oh. My family has no television. Be sure to tell me what he says, though!" he added with a polite smile.
"Nonsense, I know how much you love those books," Sophie said, her face softening. "I'd hate for you to miss out. Tell you what, I will host a viewing party here, at the library, for you and any other children that may wish to watch. Invite your family, too!"
Charlie Boddy was a young boy who lived in Australia. He was not rich or famous. He was kind-hearted but modest, and as far as looks went he was sort of a scrawny guy. He lived with his parents, Sam and Lemona, and his grandfather Hermes in a run-down little shack on the edge of Melbourne. Rent was sky-high, so that was all the four of them could afford.
Charlie's parents both worked all day. His grandfather had once been a philosopher of some reknown, but was now too old and feeble to work and spent most of the day in bed. They always made enough to keep a roof over their heads, and had enough to eat, but they ate simply and rarely had extra money for niceties. Every day the four of them would eat slices of toast slathered with promite for breakfast, scoops of hommus for lunch, and slices of toast slathered with hommus for dinner. Sometimes his father Sam would bring home a jar of orange marmalade as a special treat, but only for when Lemona wasn't around.
Charlie loved to read. Reading was a form of escape for him, a way for him to forget about his own dreary life. Most days after school he could be found at the local library, a stack of books under his arm, wishing he could own his own books but knowing his family was too poor. And so he made his trek to the library day after day, checking out books and making sure to return them on time so as to avoid late fees.
His favorite books to read were a series of books about three unfortunate orphans. The orphans had a lot of terrible things happen to them, but they also had a lot of exciting things happen. At the beginning of the story they lived in a mansion with their very own private library. After that their parents died, all their belongings burned up in a fire, and a terrible man began chasing them from place to place, but wherever they went they still managed to see exciting sights, make interesting friends, and eat exotic foods. Charlie liked to imagine he was one of them sometimes, helping Violet invent a grappling hook or Klaus decipher a poem or Sunny make lox.
The man who wrote the books, Lemony Snicket, was notoriously reclusive; in fact no one had ever seen his face. As it happened, the man lived in the very same town as Charlie! Or at least that was how the story went. Other versions said that the man had died years ago, or that Lemony Snicket was really a pen name for a woman, or that it was a pen name for a woman who had died years ago. All Charlie knew was that the enormous building he passed every morning on the way to school, and again in the afternoon, was ringed by an imposing set of gates emblazoned with the name Snicket. No one ever went in or came out, but there was often smoke coming from the chimney, and he spotted the occasional delivery truck stopping by to retrieve or deliver boxes.
One day Charlie was at the library, checking to see if any of his favorite books were on the shelf, when the librarian came up him excitedly. "Have you heard the news?" she shouted.
"No, Ms. Sophie," Charlie shook his head.
"It's about that author you like, Lemony Snicket," she went on breathlessly. "You know no one's ever seen him; he corresponds through writing with his publisher. Anyhow, I've heard through the librarian grapevine that that may all be changing! There's to be an official announcement on the television this evening, during the six o'clock news, and I have it on good authority that Snicket himself will be there!"
Charlie's face fell. "Oh. My family has no television. Be sure to tell me what he says, though!" he added with a polite smile.
"Nonsense, I know how much you love those books," Sophie said, her face softening. "I'd hate for you to miss out. Tell you what, I will host a viewing party here, at the library, for you and any other children that may wish to watch. Invite your family, too!"