1Here we go, faithful readers, another installment of the zany, wacky, totally cool, new and improved, superkalifragilisticexpialidocious chapter of...THE PARODY THAT DOESN'T USE ALLITERATION!

Disclaimer: Two words. Don't own. Back off.

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"PLEEEASE!" A voice cried. We panned left and saw that it was in fact the story, aka TPP, on its knees, begging for mercy. "I'll be good! Just please don't kill me!"

"Nevaaaah!" The god of Chaos said dramatically.

"You'll never kill me?" TPP asked, confused.

Chaos realized his mistake and decided to become a smart, evil, torturous dictator dude. Big change for him. "I meant...death is too good for you." He laughed an evil laugh.

"BO-RING!" some child said, and pulled the tape very abruptly out of the VCR.

Theme Song goes here

Olafiosa appeared on the scene, like he always does, just to spite the Baudelaire orphans. "HAHA! Giggledy figgledy pork chops!"

"That was soooo last book, Ofiosa." Esme said, filing her acrylic nails.

Suddenly, and without warning, a large pork chop entered. When I say large, I really mean ginormous. It was about as big as a mouse on top of a Mary Sue on top of a cheetah on top of an armchair on top of a truck on top of a house...give or take.

"Whooo caaaalled meee?" it asked.

"Him." everyone said, and pointed in Olaf's direction, who merely giggled and tried to hide behind his ex.

"Gerroff!" Esme squealed.

Suddenly, and without warning, and out of the sky, was a huge...analogy. You heard the faint words, "Small mercy...flyswatter...the letter H...haha..." and nobody quite knew what to do with it. "Willya get outta here!" Olaf finally yelled, momentarily forgetting about the pork chop.

The pork chop decided it was very annoyed with it, and kicked it out of there, and finally left out of mere boredom. Everyone cheered that two annoying things were now gone.

"Anyway, back to my facade," Olaf said. "Baudelaires! YOU'RE MINE!"

"Nooo," Violet said in a smart-alecky voice. We're just standing in the same room." She rolled her eyes.

"Mwhahaahaha! That's what you think!" His girlfriend hit him and he whimpered like the man he was. "Gimme her, Ernest!"

"No!"

"Gimme her, Frank!"

"Not Frank."

"Gimme her, Dewey!" Everyone stared, but it got worse when...

"No!" His face was defiant. "Big...Gay...AL!"

He's super, thanks for asking

All things considered, he couldn't be better, he must say

Everything is super when you're...don't you think I look cute in this hat

"WHAT!"

Meanwhile, the poor story was being whipped mercilessly.

"Meh, fuck this." And BGA left.

"Wait! He's s'posed to DIE!" someone randomly shrieked.

Enter Dewey Denouement, surrounded by glory...and shining bright lights. "There he is, Mr. Denouement, There he is–" sang Wayne Bernie. We kicked him out because nobody likes him.

Aaaanyway... "Whoever you are, hand over the fecking Baudelaires, biatch!" Olaf, the definition of a homophobe, declared. "Nay!" retorted the J.S.'s. "Noble people are better, bitch!"

"Nuh-uh! I'm better than yoouuu!" Olaf cried.

"Nuh-uh!" Jerome retorted.

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Feck you guys, bitches!" Sunny said loudly while doing her full, teenage (er, baby) hair. Everyone turned and screamed at her, and she cried in a corner. We don't like her either.

"Oohh, did you say 'guys?'" Olaf smiled wickedly. "That almost rhymes with 'Your parents weren't as noble as you think, Baudebrats!' Remember that night at the opera, Monsieur Denouementioso?" He brought his hand to his ear in mock hard of hearing.

At this, Lemaniel invented a very tedious analogy, basically explaining what "hard of hearing" means in this case. 76.55 of the readers fell asleep.

The real Dewey, who we've decided that we don't like as much compared to Big Gay Al Dewey, blushed. "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you, you do remember that, don't you? Blushy blush blush blushy! Haha!"

At this point no one was intimidated, because generally that happens when you're scared, not weirded out by a crazy lunatic.

Then, to make things more interesting, four people appeared: Carmelita, Hugo, Colette, and Kevin. They shouted random things that aren't important because we hate sensible storylines. Pshh. After, they repeated the whole "Yuhhuh, Nuhuh" fandango and we looked away in embarrassment.

"Gasp!" Justice Strauss said. "You," she pointed to Violet, "gave Carmy Carmy the harpoon gun! How dareth you!"

"Now I can spit!" Carmy said. "Habadawhat?" Practically everyone said. This girl had to be delusional. "I WANT TO LEARN TO SPIIIIIIIIT!"

"OLAFIE! TEACH ME HOW TO SPIT BEFORE I USE THIS HARPOON GUN IN A BAAAAD WAY, COUNTIE!" Carmy was very powerful for a four-year-old.

"Yes, master." Olaf saluted.

"Pssst," said Not-BGA after a long silence. "Guess what?" And without waiting, he supplied, "I have a seeecret." Everyone leaned in.

"Haha! Got you!" He laughed hysterically, making everyone groan. "No, but seriously, I've got...a...library."

DUN–DUN–DUUUUUUUUN.

"Anyway, tell me how to open the door, or Carmy dearest will harpoon you."

"NEVA!"

"Point it, girlie!" Olaf told the brat.

"TEACH ME TO SPIT!" The brat responded.

"Nuhuh!"

"Yuhhuh!"

"Nuhuh!"

"Yuhhuh!"

"Nuhuh!"

"Yuhhuh!"

"Nuhuh!"

"Yuhhuh!"

"Nuhuh!"

"Yuhhuh!"

"Fiiiiiine!" Olaf screamed, taking the thing from her and knocking her down. And with a malicious grin, he added, "I'll do it myself." He continued talking, but this time in slow motion. "Yoooouuu haaaave teeeenn ssseeeccoonndddsss tooo teelllll meeee hooowww tooo ooopppeeennn iiiiitttt oooorrr yyyoouuu diiieeee. OOONNEE."

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"TWWOOOO!"

"THREEEE!"

"NOOO!"

ETC.

"TEEEENNN!"

Boom. Crash. Snap. Crackle. Pop. Zimzam. Awopbopaloobopawopbambooom.

Dewey Dead.

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Love from G-Race.