By Tomie dePaola
Tomie's relations starts off development their new apartment at 26 Fairmount street in 1938, simply as a typhoon hits city, setting out a hectic, loopy 12 months. Tomie has many adventures all his personal, together with consuming chocolate along with his Nana Upstairs, purely to discover out—the difficult way—that they've got eaten chocolate laxative. He attempts to pass kindergarten while he unearths out he won't learn how to learn till first grade. "I'll be again subsequent year," he says. while Tomie is going to work out Snow White, he creates one other sensation. Tomie dePaola's adolescence stories are hilarious, and his fascinating illustrations are certain to please.
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Additional info for 26 Fairmount Avenue (26 Fairmount Avenue, Book 1)
The custom-designed, custom-built cabinets. The centrepiece: a black granite-topped custom-built island. Above it, light fixtures from a high-end design store in Vancouver’s swank South Granville shopping area. Nine hundred fifty dollars each. At my count that’s about forty bottles of Smirnoff. The sad irony: Now that I have the house I always dreamed about, I’m no longer welcome in it. My last day in the house: I’m laid out corpse-like on Jonny’s bed. The ratty bent venetian blinds, closed tight, bang on the taupe windowsill in rhythm with the cold wind blowing off the lake.
Everyone reads quietly, texts or just stares into space. In a mere thirteen minutes I will arrive at Metrotown Station. That gives me thirteen minutes to take stock. Getting on that Greyhound, I abandoned my practice; turned my back on 39 40 wa s t e d the few loyal clients who still believed in me. I haven’t been to my office since the bender began at Todd’s little house. I wonder if I even have an office anymore. , the automatic doors slide open and I step off the train. It’s still pouring outside.
I wanted to play hockey, so I had to skate faster than the rest. My punches had to land harder. I made the team. I also made the football team, but they didn’t have pants small enough, so a football mom made the necessary adjustments. We were playing the team from Carberry, Manitoba, all cornfed six-foot strapping Scandinavian farm boys, a team of giants. One tried to tackle me, but I was so fast he missed me and grabbed my pants, which came off. I scored a touchdown in my jock. I was also the high-jump champion, to the disbelief of my Sandy Lake schoolmates.