Hey everyone! Normally, ASOUE writers write a main story and then a one-shot collection. I've decided to do both at the same time. I have quite a few ideas of my own, but you are welcome to pitch me your one-shot ideas in a PM or review.

The first short story is very AU. I own nothing.

Will Count Olaf Please Stand Up?

"There's nothing but flat land for miles around. If Count Olaf is still here, he's doing an extraordinary job of hiding."

"We have a small diner ahead. Let's investigate there. Olaf can't have gone far."

"Good idea. And don't forget, we've got that damaged bridge to check out."

The two people you have just read dialogue between are none other than police officers Jacquelyn Scieszka and Larry-Your-Waiter. They are on the case of an escaped convict and are currently trying to find him.

In a moment, these two officers will find themselves in a very sticky situation involving the occupants of a small roadside diner in the middle of the Hinterlands.

Investigate with them and you, like these unsuspecting police officers, will find yourself caught up in the mystery that is A Series Of Unfortunate Events.

...

"Afternoon officers," the diner owner, a man with a bright red beard, glasses, overalls, and baseball cap greeted cheerfully. "What brings you here?"

"Unfortunate business, unfortunately," said Jacquelyn. "There's a murderer on the loose. Goes by the name of Count Olaf. He has one eyebrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle. We wondered if he might have come in here."

"A murderer?" the diner owner scratched his head, an incredulous look on his face. "Why, there's been no one in here since that bus arrived two hours ago."

The two police officers approached the bus driver, a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a mustache, seated across from a platinum-blonde woman dressed in fur.

"Do you happen to have a passenger manifest of some kind?" Larry asked the bus driver.

"Passenger manifest? No," answered the driver promptly. Larry sighed. "But I can tell you there were six passengers. That is, unless one of them fell off along the way," he added with a chuckle.

"No one fell off," Jacquelyn said. "Quite the contrary. It appears someone jumped on. There are seven passengers here."

Jacquelyn was right. Seated at various tables in the diner were two married couples with dark hair, a man in a rumpled suit, a woman in glasses reading a book, and the aforementioned platinum-blonde woman.

The bus driver gave Jacquelyn an angry look. "Are you implying that someone hitched a ride on my bus without me knowing it?"

"Precisely," said Jacquelyn. "The only question is: Who?"

"We may never know," the platinum-blonde woman said with a posh British accent. "Driver, we must go. I have a very important meeting I need to get to. It's not IN to be late, you know."

"Not so fast," Larry said. "No one leaves until we've found Count Olaf." He turned to Jacquelyn. "Where do we start?"

"I suppose you'll eliminate the couples first," said the woman in glasses, setting down her book. "One person can't pose as two people."

"That's right!" one of the husbands called out. He gestured to his wife and the other couple. "We're exonerated!"

"Honey," said the other wife to her husband, "I could have sworn you had a mole on your chin."

"A mole? Katie, we've been married for twelve years. I've never had a mole on my chin."

"Is this your goal, officers?" asked the man in the rumpled suit. "To make us all notice invisible differences about each other, to the point we turn on people we've known fondly for years?"

"Yes," the platinum-blonde woman agreed. "This whole thing is ridiculous. There's only one person the murderer could be, and it's him," she pointed to the man in the rumpled suit.

"I most certainly am not a murderer," the man in question objected. "Nor am I a murderer's accomplice."

"Do you have indentification, sir?" Jacquelyn asked.

The man in the rumpled suit hesitated. "Well...no. My wallet is in my suitcase. It was sent ahead."

"He was on the bus," interjected the bus driver. "There are two people I know were on the bus for sure. That man there is my brother, Lemony Snicket. I'm Jacques Snicket."

"And the other person?" inquired Larry-Your-Waiter. "Who else was on the bus?"

"That pretty lady, there." Jacques nodded to the woman in the glasses. "She's the only one I truly noticed."

Jacquelyn walked over to the young woman. "What is your name?"

"Olivia Caliban. I'm the librarian at Prufrock Preparatory School." The police officers nodded.

"Wherever your murderer is hiding, it certainly isn't here," the platinum-blonde woman said again.

"Who's to say the murderer isn't you?" Olivia Caliban challenged. "What's to stop a man from donning women's clothing and using a fake accent?"

"I happen to be Luciana Genevieve," said the platinum-blonde owner of that name. "I am a very prominent member of the banking community."

A look of comprehension suddenly dawned on the face of Jacquelyn. "The owner. Where's the owner gone?" For the owner of the diner had disappeared, unnoticed by any of the patrons.

"Yes, where is he?" Luciana wondered. "The man should be back with my sugar bowl now. DuPont!"

The diner owner then emerged from a storeroom behind the counter, sugar bowl in hand. "Yes?"

"These members of law enforcement seem to think that you are an escaped murderer," laughed Luciana, taking the sugar.

"I am no more a murderer than anyone else in this room," DuPont said. "I'll tell you what happened, officers. Your bus driver friend here simply made a mistake when counting heads, and thought there were six people instead of seven."

The two police officers turned on Jacques. "I suppose that's possible," he admitted. "Though I'm sure there were-"

The telephone rang abruptly, cutting Jacques off in the middle of his sentence. Larry picked up the receiver. "Yes. Yes. Yes." He hung up and turned to the diner customers. "A bridge up the road was out, but it's fixed now. You're all free to leave."

"Thank goodness!" Luciana stood up. "I may not miss my meeting. Come along, driver."

The customers all stood up, paid for the things they had ordered and promptly left the diner. Luciana was first to board the bus and headed straight for the back. She was followed by the two couples, the man named Lemony in the rumpled suit, the woman in glasses called Olivia, and the driver, who turned to the police officers and told them they were letting a very dangerous man run loose.

The bus departed from its parking spot in front of the diner, trailed by Larry and Jacquelyn's police car.

...

The bell on the diner door rang, announcing the arrival of a single person, who proceeded to sit at the counter.

"Coffee. Lots of sugar," the person ordered in a British accent.

"Of course." The diner owner prepared the order in a flash. He looked more closely at the woman sitting in front of him. "Weren't you on that bus?"

"I was."

"How did you escape?"

"Escape the bridge collapse? Why, I simply left through the back door while the others were boarding." The woman sipped her coffee.

"Pretty smart. As if you knew the bridge wasn't safe."

"Yes. You should never trust fake phone calls."

"Fake?"

"Of course. Now if you'll excuse me," the woman stood up. "I have some fortunate orphans to chase after. You see, my name isn't Luciana. And I'm not going to a meeting."

"You're after the Baudelaire fortune?" The diner owner removed his fake red beard. "Good luck to you. But you should know," he took off his glasses, "my name isn't really DuPont. I have more experience chasing after orphans." The man lifted the baseball cap from his head, revealing a single brow above his eyes. "And you can see how I differ."

...

Dear reader, beware. If you meet a rude blonde named Luciana in the city, or encounter an overly cheery and sensible man named DuPont in some remote location, I encourage you to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. These people are not who they seem to be. They are villans. Murderers. And they may very well be after your fortune.

So be wary. Otherwise, you may take a page out of the police officers books, and find yourself in the midst of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated, no matter how you felt about the story.

This short story was based on an episode of The Twilight Zone, created by Rod Serling. The episode in question is titled "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?" and can be found on Netflix.