Chapter 6, Snowbound Story
Disclaimer: Christmas says we don't own anything. Take it up with him.
A/N: We begin our reverie with an important announcment: I GET OUT OF SCHOOL TOMMOROW! AND IT'S GONNA SNOW LIKE HELL TONIGHT. Were we are, at least. Plot Murderer #1 is pissed as me because he doesn't get out till the twenty-third which was the same with me until this year. We'd like to thank Gypsy Rosalie for her lovely review and we'd also like to get the story on the road!
The snow was still falling when the children trooped forlornly into the Presidential suite. They had been all over the hotel and had found neither hide nor hair of Count Olaf.
The three girls sat in the giant dressing room.
Violet was humming to herself and staring at a little picture that she had folded into her hand: a photo of her and Duncan, taken while they were at Prufrock Prep.
"Why are you so happy?" asked Isadora, who was moping under a pile of satin fabric.
"No reason!" chirped Violet. "Windago!" said Sunny sagly, which meant, 'You shouldn't be happy! We're snowbound with a killer. Again!'
"What's going on with you, anyway?" inquired Isadora. Violet answered, IN SONG!
I FEEL PRETTY {from 'West Side Story'}
Violet: I feel pretty! Oh, so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gay!
Isadora: {speaking} Too much information, right there!
Violet: {singing} And I pity, any girl who isn't me today!
{she wraps a length of silk around herself and spins to stare at Sunny}
I feel charming!
Oh, so charming!
It's alarming how charming I feel!
And so pretty, that I hardly can believe I'm real!
{she dashes to a fashion mirror against the wall and points at it}
See the pretty girl in that mirror there?
Who can that attractive girl be?
{with increasing excitment}
Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile, such a pretty me!
Sunny: {speaking} Ziggo! {'Someone's too in love with herself!'}
Violet: {singing and striding around like a man on parade} I feel stunning and entracing!
{does a ballerina leap}
Feel like running and dancing for joy! For I'm loved by a pretty, wonderful boy!
{she throws off the satin and starts dancing around with a Japenese fan}
Sunny and Isadora: {in chorus} Have you met my good friend Violet?
The craziest girl on the block!
You'll know her the minute you see her!
She's the one who is in an advanced state of shock!
{Violet now drops the fan and dances energiectally around the room}
She thinks she's in love, she thinks she's in Spain!
She isn't in love, she's merely insane!
{Violet wraps a giant lace collar around her shoulders}
Keep away from her!
Send for Chubs!
This is not the Violet we know!
Modest and pure, polite and refined.
Well-bred and mature and out of her mind!
{Violet pops out from a dress rack wrapped in a pink kimono with a diamond-encrusted tiara on her head}
Violet: I feel pretty!
Oh, so pretty!
That the city should give me its key!
A commitee should be organized to honor me!
I feel dizzy!
I feel sunny!
Sunny: {speaking} Hey!
Violet: {singing} I feel fizzy and funny and fine!
And so pretty, Miss Snicket should just resign!
See the pretty girl in that mirror there?
Sunny and Isadora: What mirror, where?
Violet: Who can that attractive girl be?
Isadora: Which?
Sunny: What?
Isadora: Where?
Sunny: Whom?
Violet: Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile, such a pretty me!
Isadora: Such a pretty me!
Sunny: Pretty Me!
Violet, Isadora and Sunny: {harmony} I feel stunning! And entracing! Feel like running and dancing for joy! For I'm loved by a pretty, wonderful boy!
{they do a salsa around the room}
THE CURTAIN FALLS BUT THE CHAPTER'S ONLY JUST STARTED
"Pack your bags, Carmelita. We're leaving!" huffed Esme, shoving her enormous wardrobe into her seven Italian leather suitcases.
"Why?" asked Carmelita groggily, just waking up from her first hangover.
"Because your fake father, Olaf, is a cheating ass who chose a baby over me. Twice, if the gossip I've heard is true!"
"But we can't leave!" Carmelita protested, "The snow's lying so thick out there that we'd be buried in it before we left the grounds!"
"That's no way to talk to Dirty Bastard's sixth most important double-crossing whore! Now pack your damn bag!"
Before Carmelita could do anything, however, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in!" called Esme, annoyed.
The door opened and Ernest walked in, red in the face and gasping for breath.
"What's wrong with you, cakesniffer?" asked Carmelita casually. Ernest replied, "You're the only ones who don't know yet. Frank, my brother, has been killed with a harpoon in the toilet on the fourth floor!"
Carmelita grimaced, "Ew!" though Esme was unfazed, "Lovely. Did he tell you where they had hidden the Chamber Pot?"
"Shh! I didn't kill him, someone else did! The phones are all dead and we're cut off from civilization. The Chamber Pot is second priority now!"
Esme slapped him like the crazy bimbo she was, "Don't you dare say that! Now listen to me and listen well, Ernest Plot Twist! You are going to find the Chamber Pot before anyone else does. You will not give it to Olaf or any of his lackys. You will give it to me! And if you don't cooporate, I will kill you."
"Of-of course, Miss Squalor. Anything you say."
"And if you find it quickly enough, I might let you see my bedroom." she winked suggestivly and Ernest instantly perked up.
In the midst of the gross seduction, Carmelita managed to scramble out of the room.
She had to improvise, and FAST!
"What flavor do you like?" Mr. Poe inquired of Martha. They were gathered around the little group of vending machines in the back of the Lobby.
"Oh, anything will do!" she giggled, she had never been alone with a man before, so this was like being in heaven.
"Well then, I'll get you my personal favorite. Chocolate with nuts! I love nuts!"
Martha's face dropped suddenly, "Oh. So you go that way. And I was thinking of asking you to dinner when this was all over."
Mr. Poe blanched, this woman had misunderstood him!
"No, no, Martha! I-I'm straght a-as your remarkably slender legs!"
Martha's legs were as thick as gorilla thighs but Mr. Poe's flirt enchanted her immediatly.
"Are you married, Mr. Poe?"
"Please, call me Arthur. And yes, I am, but rather, no, I'm not. My current wife is in an all-out divorce battle. She wants my sons, I want my sons, she threatened to steal my sons. The usual such-and-such. I'm just put out that my sons spent Christmas without me. No one to share Poe Custard with. No one to hug."
Mr. Poe burst into tears. "Oh, don't cry, Arthur!" implored Martha, "Please, please, don't cry!"
"H-hold me, please!"
The two embraced, a sad embrace. But full of warmth and other things that are fuzzy and etc. etc.
"How can this be?" exclaimed Sir, "A man murdered? And right here in the hotel! Why, it's the absolute freakiest thing to happen since Shakes got high at my 22nd birthday party!"
Charles hopped up and down and flapped his wrists about as he said, "But it's true, blue! That hideous maid found him shoved in the toilet on the fourth floor!"
"Charles, ring up room service! Tell them I wish for a glass of brandy with a side of foie gras and crackers!"
"But I can't ring up room service! The phones are all dead because of the snow!"
"Then go down to the Kitchen and tell them to their faces!"
"Okay!" squeeled Charles as he waddled out of the room.
"Little twerp!" muttered Sir once he had gone.
Duncan and Chubs sat across from each other in the main room of the Presidential suite. They had not heard the girl's musical interlude and were unaware of Violet's bubbly 'prettiness'.
There was a knock on the door.
"Who is it, now?" wondered Duncan, opening the doors revealing the person he wanted to see least in the whole world: Carmelita Spats.
"You?" he burst out, shocked. He had known his former girlfriend was staying at the Hotel but he hadn't expected her to come marching up to him with tears in her eyes and the smell of strawberry passion conditioner emitting from her hair.
"Can you save me?" she asked feebly, collapsing into his arms.
Chubs was watching this from the couch, "What in the name of firey blazes was that about?"
"I don't know," replied Duncan, puzzled, "I think she's dead!"
Chubs went over and examined her, "She's not dead, she's fainted. Something's up. Something devious."
"I think that was made clear when we found the manager stuffed in the loo."
Chubs told Duncan to shut up and went to fetch smelling salts for Carmelita.
"Nero! Where's Bass?" asked Remora bursting out of the bathroom to where Nero was sitting and reading. He was on Deathly Hallows by now and was glued to the couch.
"I don't know. Leave me alone!"
"Very well, I'll find it myself!" Remora stormed out of the suite.
Left to his own devices, Nero continued to read until: SPOILER ALERT!
HEDWIG WAS DEAD!
"NO!" Nero cried to the heavens, "DAMN YOU, GENERIC DEATH EATER!"
Charles stepped out of the Elevator. He approached the Kitchens so as to demand Sir's snack. On the way, he passed through the Dining Room and on the ceiling he saw something most unpleasent.
Mr/Mrs. Bass was strung from the ceiling light fixture from a length of rope that had been tied into a noose. He/She was most certainly dead. Charles screamed bloody murder and collapsed on his knees.
He could've sworn he saw a shadow slink off into the Kitchen.
A/N: Hope it pleased you! I'm a giant West Side Story fanatic and I taught seeing as we're experimenting with Violet and Duncan in this story we might as well have her sing a song about him! A reminder that all song lyrics can be found on our profile. Yes, Bass is dead. How tragic, no? But who is doing this? If you're thinking the most obvious answer then you are wrong! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!:O
Update Coming Next Friday!:)