DISCLAIMERS: The characters depicted within, with the exception of Mrs.
Daisy Dandridge, are the intellectual and creative property of Lemony
Snicket/Daniel Handler, and I claim no rights to them (except, again, for
Mrs. Dandridge). The story itself, however, is copyrighted to me. Written
for love, not profit.
Dedicated to my dear friend Beverly for being such a patient listener.
* * * * * * * * * *
THE DASTARDLY DESSERT by Koneko no Miko
There are people in this world who think the world is all sunshine and roses, despite evidence to the contrary. These people are said to be in denial, a word that refers to the state in which one refuses to believe anything bad. If you are one of these people, you will probably want to stop reading this story right now, as few happy things ever occurred in the lives of the Baudelaire children. Although it is my solemn duty to record these events for history, so that no one must ever forget these unfortunate events, you are under no such restrictions, and therefore are free to leave at any time. In fact, I suggest you stop reading now and find something else to do. Perhaps a walk or a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle of foals frolicking in a grassy meadow will sufficiently occupy you in a non- upsetting manner. But if you do choose to continue reading, please understand that you assume all risks and responsibilities---a phrase which here means "don't blame me if these images and events are etched into your mind for all eternity, troubling your sleep and filling your waking hours with unfathomable sadness."
* * * * * * * * * *
The Baudelaire children sat in the back of Mr. Poe's car, listening to him cough into his well-worn handkerchief. Ever since the terrible day at the beach when Mr. Poe told the children that their parents had perished (a word which here means "bought the farm") in a fire, he had been in charge of finding a new home for them. Unfortunately, he hadn't done a very good job of it, as their guardians inevitably wound up being cruel, inept, or (in a few horrible instances) buried, thanks to the evil schemes of their first guardian, Count Olaf, who was bent on getting his greedy (and no doubt clammy) hands on the Baudelaire fortune. Mr. Poe meant well, but the only thing the children had learned they could rely on was his constant coughing.
"Children, I do hope you'll enjoy the new home I've found for you," Mr. Poe said between coughs. "I really think this will be the best place yet. Please just try not to botch things up this time."
"We won't," Violet said quietly. Violet was, at fourteen years of age, the eldest Baudelaire. She was fascinated by all things mechanical, and spent a great deal of time thinking up new inventions and gadgets. Whenever she was struck by inspiration, she would tie her long dark hair back with a ribbon, so as to think more clearly. She was a gentle, kind-hearted girl, and much too polite to point out to Mr. Poe that his statement was rather rude, not to mention incorrect.
"Mr. Poe, you never told us about our new guardian or our new home. Will there be lots of books there?" Klaus asked, pushing his glasses, which had a tendency to slip, up the bridge of his nose. Klaus had recently turned thirteen, and he had been reading for most of his life. Reading was his greatest joy in life, and many of the Baudelaires' daring escapes had been aided by knowledge he had gleaned (a word which here means "picked up") from things he had read over the years.
"Now, that I'm not sure of," Mr. Poe responded, following up with a series of coughs. The children waited politely for him to finish coughing before he continued. "However, your new guardian is an elderly woman named Daisy Dandridge. She owns a bakery in the town of Woodbury, and she lives right above it in a small apartment. She's assured me, however, that there is plenty of room for the three of you, though Sunny and Violet have to share a room."
"Sneh!" Sunny shrieked. Sunny was an infant, about the size of a loaf of French bread cut in half, and like all infants, she only spoke in fragments that didn't seem to mean anything. Her siblings, however, could understand her perfectly, and knew that she meant, "Will there be things for me to bite?" Sunny had four very sharp teeth, and loved to use them whenever she could.
"I don't know what 'sneh' means, Sunny, but I guess it doesn't matter," Mr. Poe said, smiling at her in the rearview mirror. "At any rate, we're here, so you'll all be able to find out for yourselves!"
The children got out of the car and stood in front of the bakery, staring in utter shock. "This is unbelievable," Violet whispered. "Are you two seeing what I'm seeing?"
"I think so," Klaus whispered hoarsely.
"Hai," Sunny echoed.
Dedicated to my dear friend Beverly for being such a patient listener.
* * * * * * * * * *
THE DASTARDLY DESSERT by Koneko no Miko
There are people in this world who think the world is all sunshine and roses, despite evidence to the contrary. These people are said to be in denial, a word that refers to the state in which one refuses to believe anything bad. If you are one of these people, you will probably want to stop reading this story right now, as few happy things ever occurred in the lives of the Baudelaire children. Although it is my solemn duty to record these events for history, so that no one must ever forget these unfortunate events, you are under no such restrictions, and therefore are free to leave at any time. In fact, I suggest you stop reading now and find something else to do. Perhaps a walk or a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle of foals frolicking in a grassy meadow will sufficiently occupy you in a non- upsetting manner. But if you do choose to continue reading, please understand that you assume all risks and responsibilities---a phrase which here means "don't blame me if these images and events are etched into your mind for all eternity, troubling your sleep and filling your waking hours with unfathomable sadness."
* * * * * * * * * *
The Baudelaire children sat in the back of Mr. Poe's car, listening to him cough into his well-worn handkerchief. Ever since the terrible day at the beach when Mr. Poe told the children that their parents had perished (a word which here means "bought the farm") in a fire, he had been in charge of finding a new home for them. Unfortunately, he hadn't done a very good job of it, as their guardians inevitably wound up being cruel, inept, or (in a few horrible instances) buried, thanks to the evil schemes of their first guardian, Count Olaf, who was bent on getting his greedy (and no doubt clammy) hands on the Baudelaire fortune. Mr. Poe meant well, but the only thing the children had learned they could rely on was his constant coughing.
"Children, I do hope you'll enjoy the new home I've found for you," Mr. Poe said between coughs. "I really think this will be the best place yet. Please just try not to botch things up this time."
"We won't," Violet said quietly. Violet was, at fourteen years of age, the eldest Baudelaire. She was fascinated by all things mechanical, and spent a great deal of time thinking up new inventions and gadgets. Whenever she was struck by inspiration, she would tie her long dark hair back with a ribbon, so as to think more clearly. She was a gentle, kind-hearted girl, and much too polite to point out to Mr. Poe that his statement was rather rude, not to mention incorrect.
"Mr. Poe, you never told us about our new guardian or our new home. Will there be lots of books there?" Klaus asked, pushing his glasses, which had a tendency to slip, up the bridge of his nose. Klaus had recently turned thirteen, and he had been reading for most of his life. Reading was his greatest joy in life, and many of the Baudelaires' daring escapes had been aided by knowledge he had gleaned (a word which here means "picked up") from things he had read over the years.
"Now, that I'm not sure of," Mr. Poe responded, following up with a series of coughs. The children waited politely for him to finish coughing before he continued. "However, your new guardian is an elderly woman named Daisy Dandridge. She owns a bakery in the town of Woodbury, and she lives right above it in a small apartment. She's assured me, however, that there is plenty of room for the three of you, though Sunny and Violet have to share a room."
"Sneh!" Sunny shrieked. Sunny was an infant, about the size of a loaf of French bread cut in half, and like all infants, she only spoke in fragments that didn't seem to mean anything. Her siblings, however, could understand her perfectly, and knew that she meant, "Will there be things for me to bite?" Sunny had four very sharp teeth, and loved to use them whenever she could.
"I don't know what 'sneh' means, Sunny, but I guess it doesn't matter," Mr. Poe said, smiling at her in the rearview mirror. "At any rate, we're here, so you'll all be able to find out for yourselves!"
The children got out of the car and stood in front of the bakery, staring in utter shock. "This is unbelievable," Violet whispered. "Are you two seeing what I'm seeing?"
"I think so," Klaus whispered hoarsely.
"Hai," Sunny echoed.