When I was in college my roommate, the clever Swooze, had a poster of Edward Gorey’s The Gashlycrumb Tinies. What with us being busy college students and all, we devoted what extremely precious, very little free time we had to memorizing the whole thing. A is for Amy who fell down the stairs, B is for Basil, assaulted by bears. And so on, and so forth. You know, just in case the final was going to be cumulative.
In our defense, the poster was hanging in the bathroom… Anywho, moving on.
You will be sucked dry by a leech.
I’d stay away from swimming holes, and stick to good old cement.
Even if it does hurt like hell when your toe scrapes the bottom.
The thing is, although I don’t mind being Fanny per se (I do so love her big floppy hat), I don’t really like the explanation, which doesn’t seem to be personality oriented in the least. How on earth would you ever figure out what I’m all about from that? I mean, what does it say about ME? So I retook the quiz, changed some of the answers, and got the same results. Hm. I took it again, changed the answers again, same results. Now please understand, I was answering completely differently, but still with plausible answers. In other words, I didn’t go off half cocked claiming to be Quiet, or that I would take a job as a Library Aide (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I just answered the questions differently within the realm of honest answers.
Fanny every time.
So, I guess no more swimming holes for me.
What horrible Edward Gorey death will you die?