TONE (attitude toward subject) AND DICTION (word choice)

What follows is the beginning of a story about an attempted car-jacking.  However, the two versions have a rather different effect.  The first creates a mood of suspense and eeriness.  Notice how the word choice (diction) serves to create this effect.   The tone in the first is more serious and suspenseful; the tone of the second more playful, though perhaps also demeaning, even immature.

Emerging from the fog in front of us were two cars at the bottom of the hill. Notice the effect of the fog imagery throughout.  All the way up at the top of hill, invisible, shrouded in thick gray mists, was the traffic light near the church. We would have to pass between these two cars, both large Cadillacs from the seventies, with their taillights seemingly encased in sharkfins. There were three men in each of the cars, but as we came closer--and as I replay the incident in my mind, it seems to be in slow motion--one man opened the door and, facing us momentarily, started across the road directly in our path. The effect of slow motion generally intensifies a somber mood.  When it seemed that we must hit him, he turned to look at us, sprang up, and disappeared. Until this moment, everything seemed encased in a cotton gauze. Perhaps it was the fog, but it was as if I were watching a silent movie. The danger at the center of the screen loomed larger and larger, but silently. But when we heard him land on the roof of our car, the pandemonium broke loose.

My mother was hysterical, and why shouldn't she be, since the man was trying to hijack us. But the man was so inept, I just had to laugh. First of all, when he stood in the middle of the road to force us to come to a stop, he looked so comical, like a little kid caught, having forgotten to look both ways before crossing.  The image here makes us not take the would-be thief seriously.  Then he jumped on top of our car, which did little good because once Mom accelerated, he flipped off over the left side. Unfortunately, he managed to catch onto the sideview mirror. Then my mom swerved from side to side, swinging the man around like big rag doll. He couldn't run fast enough to keep up, so we just dragged him for a while, and when he still held on, Mom just ran over his foot. The word "just" makes it seems like a casual thing to do.  He yelled bloody murder and dropped off. Unable to admit defeat, the sorry character ran after us, trying to cut us off by running diagonally across the park. He pants were pulled part way down, muddy from cuff to crotch, and his white shirt was now a smear of brown and green from grass stains. The language here demeans the character, making us laugh at him.  He limped pathetically after us. When we beat him to the park entrance, I waved at him gaily, as he mouthed the words that would never come true: "I'm going to get you."