Parody Pastiche

 My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip. In other words I am not too intelligent and I can't say my own name but no-one wants to tell me how odd I am. 

         

         The shape of the letters on my father’s, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. So just to fill you in I imagine people from the letters on their tombstones, and still no one calls me "special". From the character and turn of the inscription, ‘Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,’ I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly, apparently I also have mother issues. There were five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence. Now apparently babies where suits and put there hands in there pockets, seriously is no one is going to tell me I am slightly odd?