First, listen. THEN, read and study the vocabulary. And then listen again—and again, and again. Not because it's difficult, but because it's beautiful. And, more importantly, hearing the new words in context repeatedly will help drill them deeper into your memory."
This is a very, very sad story. The characters suffer terrible tragedies. People die in unspeakable ways. Only a truly horrible person would be amused by their misfortune. Nevertheless, it is kind of funny. My advice is that you listen to this all by yourself. People can be judgy.
Allow me to introduce you to the Weirdie triplets. The first of the three Weirdies was Barnacle Weirdie. He was fascinated by the bumps on people's heads. Barnacle believed certain bumps could predict whether a person was a genius or a murderer. Or both. In restaurants, he often ran his hands all over the skulls of strangers, messing up their hair and interrupting their dinners. After a careful examination of their bumps, Barnacle would loudly announce his findings to everyone present: 'I have discovered another killer.' Barnacle ruined a lot of meals.
The second child was called Melancholy Weirdie. She was intrigued by the human body, especially by what was inside it. She collected bones and teeth and the occasional ear, storing them in carefully marked jars she kept in her bedroom. When she was seven years old, she asked a local hospital if she could watch an autopsy. Her request was denied, but Melancholy was not one to take 'That is totally illegal' for an answer. She disguised herself and snuck into the morgue. A half hour into a procedure, the mortician noticed a very short doctor taking pictures of what he was doing. Melancholy is not allowed to go back to that hospital even if she is dying.
The third and final Weirdie went by the name Garlic Weirdie. She didn't have a clue what happened to the dynamite stored in the gardeners shed or the whereabouts of the matches or how the abandoned mill exploded or how it came to be soaked with gasoline.
'It's a mystery to me,' she told the police officers. Garlic declined to take a lie detector test. This is all you need to know. Let's start the story.
Chapter one.
Barnacle woke with a start. Something was wrong. The mansion was quiet and it was never, ever quiet. There were 380 people and animals living in the house and they were up at all hours of the day and night, talking, singing, dancing, fighting and making a racket. But at that moment, Barnacle heard nothing. He rang for the servants. No one came, which just added to the feeling of wrongness. The mansion employed a staff of 200 live-in housekeepers, cooks, gardeners, pool cleaners, launderers, brass polishers, butlers, shoe shiners, snow shovelers, bartenders, and rug beaters, all of whom knew to answer a ringing bell.
Barnacle decided to investigate. He crawled out of bed, only to be stymied by what to do next. You see, Barnacle was the son of a very wealthy man, and the 200 servants did everything for him. They cut Barnacle steaks at dinner, carried him up and down flights of stairs, brushed his teeth, cleaned his ears, and got him dressed every morning. The boy didn't have a clue how to put on his own clothes.
An hour and a half passed before he managed to slide on a single sock. Unfortunately, it was on his hand. So it was early evening when Barnacle finally ventured into the hall. There, he found more curiosities. The hall was completely empty, not only of people, but of the furniture as well. The carpets were pulled up and the wallpaper pulled down. The family portraits were gone, as were the nails that held them on the walls. The doorknobs were missing along with the doors. Even the light bulbs were taken.
'This is odd. Someone must have an explanation,' Barnacle thought, as he went from room to room looking for someone to give him one.
Unfortunately, every bedroom was as barren as the hallways. Everyone was gone. Barnacle continued his investigation. The parlor was empty, as was the library. The ballroom, the solarium and the grand salon were also vacant. There was no one in the knife-throwing arena or in the trampoline gallery. The tigers were missing from the big cat garden. The spears, swords, warhammers, and muskets stored in the combat dome had vanished without a trace. Even the family crypt was missing its skeletons.
He stumbled upon his sister, Melancholy, peeking into an empty tomb. She was still dressed in her sleeping clothes: a surgeon smock, mask, and gloves. He suspected she didn't know how to dress herself any better than he did.
'I am troubled, brother,' Melancholy said. 'Something does not feel right.'
Melancholy was sensitive to strange occurrences. She often spoke of seeing ghosts and phantoms. Barnacle didn't want to dismiss the idea that his sister was psychic. Anything was possible, after all. But the family's long history of brain sicknesses was a more likely explanation. There was just no way of knowing until he could examine her head bumps. But so far, she had flatly refused.