Chapter 2:

I will begin this chapter by stating that our dearly departed Lemony Snicket was far more resourceful than I. He had sources within sources that themselves somehow had relevant leads so that he was rarely without even the slimmest of trails that let him follow the story of the Baudelaire orphans. It is sad to say, but I do not have these sources and am regrettably without an unfortunate event from which the siblings have escaped from only to find themselves in a far more unfortunate circumstance.

With this in mind, I would like for you to imagine a very tragic scenario from which the intelligent and wholly unfortunate Baudelaire orphans have just narrowly escaped from. Imagine it very clearly in your mind's eye. Oh how stacked the odds were against the children! The wretched Count Olaf nearly had them, and their fortune, in his grasp, I'm certain, and it was only by their technical skill, their wits, and their teeth that they escaped at all, only to find themselves once again in the backseat of the vehicle owned by Mr. Poe of Mortuary Money Management.

This, dear reader, is where you can let me start telling the story again. There is no need for you to use any more creative thought on this dismal tale of woe, and if any a thought you should have, I should hope that it is one that will take you far from this story and onwards to higher planes and wonders. Please let those thoughts carry you far from the dreary cityscape and the noisy traffic, the small, cramped vehicle, the coughing man in the front seat who somehow manages to make a boring story of the apparent pen mishap that occurred at his workplace and ended with the death of a fellow employee, and especially far away from the three Baudelaire orphans, as their tale will only grow more unfortunate as time goes on.

Klaus Baudelaire, the second oldest and only boy, sat between his two sisters in quiet, contemplative thought. Violet, the oldest, was staring out the window at the large, busy buildings that seemed so far from their original home which had perished in a mysterious fire, along with their parents and the last remaining hopes the orphans had for a life not filled with circumstances best described as unfortunate. Sunny, the youngest and only an infant, was asleep and dreaming of biting things. What she lacked in communication prowess and depth of thought while sleeping, she more than made up for with her four incredibly sharp teeth and aptitude at using them to the best of her abilities.

Mr. Poe, the banker from Mortuary Money Management, sat up front and told dreary, boring, banking story after banking story in between bouts of coughing. This was not the first time that he had driven the Baudelaires from one unfortunate event to another, and dear reader, it can be assured that it was, unfortunately, not his last. Despite all of the misfortune that the Baudelaires seemed to bring with them to each of their guardians, Mr. Poe never seemed to be affected negatively. I add the stipend negatively only because he seemed to be affected positively from working with the orphans and he was certain he was due for a promotion soon because of his hard work and dedication to their case.

While it would not seem fair to blame the misfortune the Baudelaires underwent time after time again on the banker, I have no qualms about blaming Mr. Poe for a great many things. A qualm is a fear or an uneasiness, usually when you believe that there may have been a misgiving on your part. In this case, there are no misgivings to be had, for Mr. Poe was unintentionally the source for a great many misfortunes brought to the Baudelaire orphans, starting with putting the children in the care of the dreadful Count Olaf and leading up to his current actions, which included ferrying the children slowly through the city traffic to their new guardian and telling yet another banking story.

Klaus was not listening to Mr. Poe's banking story. He was somewhere else entirely, deep within his own very intelligent mind. While Klaus was only 12 years of age, he was incredibly well read and full of knowledge on subjects ranging from anthropology to zoology and everything in between. He thirsted for knowledge and answers, both of which were things he was not going to get on this car ride with Mr. Poe. Klaus, with his baby sister leaning against his arm, jaw working on an invisible object, and his older sister thoughtlessly playing with the ribbon she used to tie up her hair when she was thinking inventive thoughts, was trying to think of any time that his parents or their friends had so much whispered a word of the city they were driving through. With its dirty alleyways and air, the city had not left a good first impression when they had first entered it. While first impressions can be misleading, the long commute, confusing twists and turns of a city whose roadways make little sense to someone who has not been there before, and impossible traffic had done nothing to improve that impression.

Klaus could not think of a single time his parents or any of the guardians that the orphans had since they had earned the title had mentioned this city. While the thought of being in another situation where he did not know who their guardian could possibly be frightened Klaus, the idea that Count Olaf could not possibly find them in such a busy, disgusting, and out of the way side of the city had taken root in his mind, giving him hope.

While he knew he was most likely wrong (and he most definitely was), the simple seedling made Klaus smile. The expression looked almost foreign on the 12 year old's face, and Mr. Poe in the front seat was almost so surprised seeing it in the rearview mirror that he very nearly turned down a wrong way street. To the tune of many horns, he found the correct way and chuckled to himself at finally telling a story that the boy found entertaining. He continued his banking stories post haste, gladly willing to talk through his coughing fits that were only made worse by the city air if it meant brightening the dreary lives of the Baudelaire orphans.

Thankfully, he did not have to talk much more of banking matters. They had arrived at their destination, a large apartment complex that was more imposing than impressive. It loomed above them, the unforgiving gray sky looming even further above that, and the graffiti scrawl squatting along its walls like some creature ready to pounce. Klaus picked up his younger sister and she woke up, making a noise that her siblings understood as "we're here?"

"Yes, Sunny, wherever here is," said Violet, stepping out onto the curb and holding the door open as her siblings climbed out after her. Mr. Poe stepped out and greeted the dingy air with a hearty cough before ushering the children towards the building. The street was so dark between the crowded buildings and the sky so overcast that the one working streetlight a block and a half down decided to glow very enthusiastically long before was usually customary for it to do so. The three children and the banker walked up the steps and opened the front door to the apartment complex.

The lobby, thankfully, was not as dingy as they initially expected it to be, and while the air had a hint of cheap cinnamon apple candles, cigarette smoke, and boxed laundry detergent, it was not nearly as smelly as it was outside. The lighting was actually rather pleasant, though the same couldn't be said for the sour faced man inside of the office. Mr. Poe knocked on the door and removed his hat before stepping in.

"Excuse me, I am from Mortuary Money Management and I need to speak with one Mr. Wade Wilson. Could you tell me where I may find him?"

The sour faced man looked Mr. Poe up and down before cracking a not so sour smile. "Of course, the man's a bit of a shut-in, but I'll take you up there myself, just give me a moment." He got up from his seat, putting a rather difficult looking sudoku puzzle down on the desk that was mostly solved in ink and was most definitely the cause for the initial sour demeanor. The man turned out to be a nice enough soul who had a little information on the Mr. Wade Wilson that the orphans and Mr. Poe were there to see.

He paid his bills on time, rarely left the apartment except to buy groceries, and always had his head covered. He also played music and other media rather loudly on occasion, but always turned it down respectfully when people complained. The man, who turned out to be the assistant manager of the apartments, seemed to like Mr. Wade Wilson because, on the occasions that he had spoken with his tenant, he seemed to be the type who could be counted on to speak his mind. With all of this in mind, one Mr. Wade Wilson sounded like a nice enough person.

From what we know of Mr. Wade Wilson, it can be assured that being described as a "nice person" was not something that he was accustomed to for very obvious reasons. There was no benefit to Mr. Wade Wilson if the neighbors became nosy or believed him to be any better or worse than he actually was, and he intended to keep it that way. The plan had worked flawlessly until the assistant manager knocked on the door to his apartment while he was changing out of his assassin's suit with a banker and three orphans in tow.

While the antics of Mr. Wade Wilson would have been rather entertaining, the three Baudelaires only heard someone yell, "Just a moment," the sound of someone taking a running leap over what could have been a piece of furniture (in this case, the couch), the subsequent crashing sound of someone crash-landing after failing said running leap, explicatives thankfully distorted by the apartment door, and a sound that could only be attributed to opening a cabinet full of tupperware containers and all of them falling over.

Finally, the locks on the opposite side of the door clicked. They then clicked again, for it seemed that the assassin had forgotten to lock his doors to begin with and he had just locked himself in instead of opening to the sorry sight outside of his doorway. Perhaps if the door had stayed locked and shut, some misfortune may have been avoided. By some miracle, maybe Mr. Poe would have taken the Baudelaires back with him and found a more suitable guardian if the door had not opened. But, instead, the door did open, and on the other side, I am sad to say, was the new guardian of the Baudelaire orphans.

The first one to speak was Sunny. In her babbling, she said what could most likely be translated to "Why is he wearing a bag on his head?" Everyone else was too surprised by each other to actually say anything at all. Something about the man wearing a bathrobe over his clothes, large rubber gloves, bunny slippers, and a paper bag over his head, with only one eyehole, caused the group outside of the door to be rendered speechless. Something about the dismal air surrounding the three orphans, the man with the hat who looked like his eyes would bug out of his head if he didn't cough soon, and the assistant manager of his apartments outside of the office he usually occupied gave Mr. Wade Wilson a loss for words that was very rare.

So far, the Baudelaire orphans had met many strange characters and experienced many odd circumstances in their series of unfortunate events. In meeting these people and entering these situations, they had become accustomed to paying careful attention to the first impression they had of them. Some, like their first impression of the city, were very accurate. Others, like their first impression of the apartment complex and the assistant manager, were a pleasant surprise in how different they were from the initial sight.

The observation babbled by Sunny Baudelaire after the awkward silence that followed after the door had been opened ended up being the most accurate first impression that any of the Baudelaire orphans would ever experience in their collective life times. The translation is as follows.

"This guy has to be a loon."