A/N - Hello, my name is Lemony Snicket. I am sure you are wondering why, instead of your normally scheduled programing, a phrase which here means 'next chapter of a story that has already begun', you are instead met with the greeting of an infamous author, and the first chapter of a new story.
The author has asked me to apologize on her behalf, as she is currently in the long, tedious process of watching, rewatching, and crying over the third season of an award winning television series, the identity of which shall remain undisclosed.
She has also requested that I take into consideration the rapidly-thinning patience of her audience, and proceed with the telling of her story.
Disclaimer - No rights were obtained in the telling of this story.
If one thing could be said about the Baudelaire children, it would most likely be that they were extremely unfortunate, a phrase which here means 'met at every turn with murderers, arsonists, and unhelpful bankers.'
Indeed, it seemed that no matter where they traveled, be it a mountain, an ocean, a carnival, a lumber mill, even a school, nowhere would be safe for the Baudelaires.
Be it a helpful waiter, a courageous librarian, or several different taxi drivers, no matter how well intentioned or equiped, no adult seemed to stay with them for long. Every friend they made, every ally they met were left behind, or they did the leaving.
The only man who stayed with them, through every problem, every disaster, every despicable plot was the only man they were trying to rid themselves of, the nefarious Count Olaf.
A man who, at the moment this story begins, was hiding himself in several nearby hedges attempting to flee the scene of a crime. Ironically, a word which means 'funnily enough', this was the first crime in a long time he did not purposely commit.
One might call it a 'joint-crime', as it was accomplished with the unintentional aid of the three Baudelaire children, who were, at the moment this story begins, facing a difficult moral decision.
They had been presented with two choices, both of which would lead down very different roads.
The promise of Count Olaf behind bars, and a happy life with a kind woman, unburdened by fear or loss. But a promise can be broken.
The offer of a life on the lam, in the company of a morose, presumed dead reporter, never able to return to their lives. But they would be safe.
The Baudelaire children were at a crossroads. Figuratively backed into a corner.
Justice Strauss awaited them with open arms, flanked by two officers of the law, making a promise she couldn't keep.
The last Snicket cast a warm gaze over them, a battered taxi behind him, a long-awaited truth threatening to spill from his lips.
Violet thought of their guardians.
Klaus remembered their parents.
Sunny bit her lip.
If one thing could be said about the Baudelaires, it would be that they were intelligent and resourceful children, and certainly not ignorant or dull. Not the sort of children to make stupid mistakes, and not the sort of people to make wrong choices.
But often, in situations such as this, there is no wrong answer. Much like a difficult choice, a written essay can never be wrong. For example, an essay describing the effects of consuming live butterflies could explain the harmful effects of such an action, and warn the reader from attempting it. But at the same time, another essay could be written, explaining the benefits of hiding your research specimens in a hard to reach location, such as one's stomach.
The essay will not be graded on the personal opinion of the author, the opinion is the whole point of the essay. It will be graded on proper grammar and research, so as long as proper punctuation is present, there is no wrong answer.
No wrong answer.
And so Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire got into the taxi with Lemony Snicket.
Klaus let Sunny take the window seat, directly behind their new guardian. Sunny had a perfect view of Justice Strauss, who was very white in the face and seemed to be very close to feinting. The police officers she had found were rushing to their vehicles in anticipation of a chase, leaving the woman standing alone by the edge of the pond.
Sunny waved her fist and said something that might have been a goodbye.
