This all started when my daughter was taking a class in American Literature and announced that they were going to be reading Billy Budd, one of my favorite works.
The next afternoon she stormed into the house.
“BILLY BUDD DIES? BILLY BUDD DIES?
WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BILLY BUDD DIES?”
I was so sorry. I had no defense. What could I say -- I thought it might be different this time?
It seems that before the class had finished reading Billy Budd, the professor’s lecture had given away the ending. And I had not warned her. So I tried not to repeat the Billy Budd mistake and the whole family joined the spirit.
Through the years we came up with these:
Travis shoots Old Yeller
Rosebud is a sled
The murderer on the Orient Express was…all of them
Darth Vader is Luke’s father
Tony Perkins is his own mother
The narrator killed Roger Ackroyd
Buck becomes leader of a wolf pack
Mandolay burns down
John Wayne (not Jimmy Stewart) shot Liberty Valance
Madame Bovary drinks poison
Catherine dies in childbirth-Frederick walks out in the rain
Boo Radley saves Scout’s life
Sonny is shot at the toll booth
Michael becomes Godfather
Dimmesdale is Pearl’s father
The Gladiator dies
Elizabeth marries Darcy
Bruce Willis is a dead person
Rhett leaves Scarlett
Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Polonius, Ophelia, Gertrude, Claudius, Laertes and Hamlet die
My precocious granddaughter announced recently that she is reading Of Mice and Men.
Lennie kills Curly’s wife and George shoots Lennie.
Old habits die hard.