Jabberwocky, Adapted by Christian

By Christian C., 6th Grade

January 2019

In a town there is a house and in the bedroom a 10 year boy, who has a fever, is lying on a bed, and his dad sitting on a stool is trying to entertain him.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me a story.”

“What about the jabberwock story?”

“That sounds good.”

“Ok, here it goes.”

There once was town near a mangrove forest, and the townspeople feared the Jabberwock because every person who tried to kill him became a goldfish. One day,  a father was telling his son to beware of the Jabberwock because the father was scared that his son will become a goldfish. The father was telling the son to protect himself with his vorpal sword in case he runs into it.

“Can I go hunting, Dad?” The son asked. But what he really meant was to kill the Jabberwock.

“Ok,” the dad said. “Please be back by sunfall.”  

“I’ll be back soon.”

Later in the forest where the filthy toads groaned and gambled, the son was getting tired. So he stopped to rest at the world’s fattest tree and ate a fried tum-tum on a stick. Suddenly two vicious eyes appeared out of nowhere, and a cold pitiless scream came out of its bottomless throat. The son pulled out his vorpal blade, and a slimy tentacle came out of nowhere and grabbed his right foot. The son fell on his face, and he heard a electric fissel, and saw an ball of electricity heading towards him. In a vain attempt to save himself, he slunk behind his vorpal sword like a shadow, and the ball bounced off the sword. With the Jabberwock confused for a moment he charged at the beast and went snicker-snack with the sword, and the Jabberwocky’s head fell off. The son picked the Jabberwocky’s head off the ground and put it in a bag and galloped back to show his father.

When the son got back to his father’s house he showed him the head, and his father jumped so high he could touch the moon, and he gave son a rib-crushing hug.

“You will be remembered forever as a great hero. If you want to, you can burn the head and free all the goldfish because that was the nice thing to do. Or you can stuff the head and put it on a trophy and stare at it, but please do the nice thing,” the father said. So the son threw the scaley, slimy head in to his fire and everyone that was a goldfish became themself again.

    The End

The father looks at his son and he is dreaming of Jabberwock hunting and he is recovering.

“Good night.”