The Carnivorous Carnival

by Lemony Snicket

  "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the most exciting afternoon of your entire lives!'

  Count Olaf announced, and cracked his whip into the pit. The whip was just long enough to strike the restless lions, who roared obediently and gnashed their teeth in hunger. "These carnivorous lions are ready to eat a freak," he said. "But which freak will it be?"

  The crowd parted, and the hook-handed man emerged, leading the Baudelaires' coworkers in a line toward the edge of the pit where the Baudelaires stood. Hugo, Colette, and Kevin had evidently been told to dress in their freakish clothes rather than in the gifts Esmé had given them, and they gave the Baudelaires a small smile and stared nervously at the snarling lions. Once the children's coworkers had taken their places, Count Olaf's other comrades emerged from the crowd. Esmé Squalor was wearing a pinstripe suit and carrying a parasol, which is a small umbrella used for keeping the sun out of one's eyes, and she smiled at the crowd and sat down on a small chair brought by Olaf's bald associate, who was also holding a long, flat piece of wood that he placed at the edge of the pit so it hung over the lions like a diving board over a swimming pool. Finally, the two white-faced women stepped forward, holding a small wooden box with a hole in the top.

  "I'm so glad this is my last day in these clothes," Hugo murmured to the Baudelaires, gesturing to his ill-fitting coat. "Just think — soon I'll be a member of Count Olaf's troupe, and I'll never have to look like a freak again."

  "Unless you're thrown to the lions," Klaus couldn't help replying.

  "Are you kidding?" Hugo whispered back. "If I'm the one chosen, I'm going to throw Madame Lulu into the pit, just like Esmé said."

  "Look closely at all these freaks," Count Olaf said, as several people in the audience tittered. "Observe Hugo's funny back. Think about how silly it is that Colette can bend herself into all sorts of strange positions. Giggle at the absurdity of Kevin's ambidextrous arms and legs. Snicker at Beverly and Elliot, the two-headed freak. And laugh so hard that you can scarcely breathe at Chabo the Wolf Baby."

  The crowd erupted into laughter, pointing and laughing at the people they thought were funniest.

  "Look at Chabo's ridiculous teeth!" cried a woman who had dyed her hair several colors at once. "She looks positively idiotic!"

  "I think Kevin is funnier!" replied her husband, who had dyed his hair to match. "I hope he's thrown into the pit. It'll be fun to see him try to defend himself with both hands and feet."

  "I hope it's the hook-handed freak!" said a woman standing in back of the Baudelaires. "That will make it even more violent!"

  "I'm not a freak," the hook-handed man snarled impatiently. "I'm an employee of Count Olaf's."

  "Oh, sorry," the woman replied. "In that case, I hope it's that man with pimples all over his chin."

  "I'm a member of the audience!" the man cried. "I'm not a freak. I just have a few skin problems."

  "Then what about that woman in that silly suit?" she asked. "Or that guy with only one eyebrow?"

  "I'm Count Olaf's girlfriend," Esmé said, "and my suit is in, not silly."

  "I don't care who's a freak and who isn't," said someone else in the crowd. "I just want to see the lions eat somebody."

  "You will," Count Olaf promised. "We're going to have the choosing ceremony right now. The names of all the freaks have been written down on small scraps of paper and placed in the box that these two lovely ladies are holding."

  The two white-faced women held up the wooden box and curtsied to the audience, while Esmé frowned at them. "I don't think they're particularly lovely," she said, but few people heard her over the cheering of the crowd.

  "I'm going to reach inside the box," Count Olaf said, "draw out one piece of paper, and read the name of the freak out loud. Then that freak will walk down that wooden plank and jump into the pit, and we'll all watch as the lions eat him."

  "Or her," Esmé said. She looked over at Madame Lulu, and then at the Baudelaires and their coworkers. Putting down her parasol for a moment, she raised both of her long-nailed hands and made a small, pushing motion to remind them of her scheme.

  "Or her," Count Olaf said, looking curiously at Esmé's gesture. "Now, are there any questions before we begin?"

  "Why do you get to choose the name?" asked the pimpled man.

  "Because this whole thing was my idea," Count Olaf said.

  "I have a question," asked the woman with dyed hair. "Is this legal?"

  "Oh, stop spoiling the fun," her husband said. "You wanted to come and watch people get eaten by lions, and so I brought you. If you're going to ask a bunch of complicated questions you can go wait in the car."

  "Please continue, Your Countship," said the reporter from The Daily Punctilio.

  "I will," Count Olaf said, and whipped the lions one more time before reaching into the wooden box. Giving the children and their coworkers a cruel smile, he moved his hand around inside the box for quite some time before at last drawing out a small piece of paper that had been folded many times. The crowd leaned forward to watch, and the Baudelaires strained to see over the heads of the adults around them. But Count Olaf did not unfold the piece of paper immediately. Instead he held it up as high as he could and gave the audience a large smile.

  "I'm going to open the piece of paper very slowly," he announced, "to increase the suspense."

  "How clever!" the reporter said, snapping her gum in excitement. "I can see the headline now: 'COUNT OLAF INCREASES SUSPENSE.'"

  "I learned how to amaze crowds by working extensively as a famous actor," Count Olaf said, smiling at the reporter and still holding up the piece of paper. "Be sure to write that down."

  "I will," the reporter said breathlessly, and held her microphone closer to Olaf's mouth.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Count Olaf cried. "I am now unfolding the first fold in the piece of paper!"

  "Oh boy!" cried several members of the audience. "Hooray for the first fold!"

  "There are only five folds left," Olaf said. "Only five more folds, and we'll know which freak will be thrown to the lions."

  "This is so exciting!" cried the man with dyed hair. "I might faint!"

  "Just don't faint into the pit," his wife said.

  "I am now unfolding the second fold in the piece of paper!" Count Olaf announced. "Now there are only four folds left!"

  The lions roared impatiently, as if they were tired of all this nonsense with the piece of paper but the audience cheered for the increased suspense and paid no attention to the beasts in the pit, gazing only at Count Olaf, who smiled and blew kisses to the carnival visitors. The Baudelaires, however, were no longer looking over the heads of the crowd to watch Olaf do his shtick, a phrase which here means "increase suspense by slowly unfolding a piece of paper printed with the name of someone who was supposed to jump into a pit of lions." They were taking advantage of the fact that no one was watching them, and stepped as close as they could to one another so they could talk without being overheard.

  "Do you think we could sneak around the pit to the roller-coaster carts?" Klaus murmured to his sister.

  "I think it's too crowded," Violet replied. "Do you think we could get the lions not to eat anyone?"

  "I think they're too hungry," Klaus said, squinting down at the growling beasts. "I read a book about large feline animals that said if they're hungry enough, they'll eat practically anything."

  "Is there anything else you've read about lions that can help us?" Violet asked.

  "I don't think so," Klaus replied. "Is there anything else you can invent from that fan belt that can help us?"

  "I don't think so," Violet replied, her voice faint with fear.

  "Déjà vu!" Sunny called up to her siblings. She meant something along the lines of, "We must be able to think of something that can help us. We've escaped from bloodthirsty crowds before."

  "Sunny's right," Klaus said. "When we lived at Heimlich Hospital, we learned about stalling a crowd, when we postponed Olaf's scheme to operate on you."r />
  "And when we lived at the Village of Fowl Devotees," Violet said, "we learned about mob psychology, when we watched all the villagers get so upset that they couldn't think clearly. But what can we do with this crowd? What can we do now?"

  "Both!" Sunny murmured, and then growled quickly in case anybody was listening.

  "I unfolded the paper again!" Count Olaf crowed, and I probably do not have to tell you that he explained that there were only three folds left, or that the crowd cheered him once more, as if he had done something very brave or very noble. I probably do not have to tell you that he announced the remaining three folds as if they were very exciting events, and that the crowd cheered him each time, eagerly awaiting the violence and sloppy eating that would follow, and I probably don't even have to tell you what was written on the piece of paper, because if you have read this far in this wretched book then you are well acquainted with the Baudelaire orphans and you know what kind of freakish luck they have. A person with normal luck would arrive at a carnival in comfortable circumstances, such as in a double-decker bus or on the back of an elephant, and would probably have a pleasant time enjoying all of the things a carnival has to offer, and would feel happy and content at the end of their stay. But the Baudelaires had arrived at Caligari Carnival in the trunk of an automobile, and had been forced to put themselves in uncomfortable disguises, take part in a humiliating show, and place themselves in dangerous circumstances, and, as their freakish luck would have it, had not even found the information they were hoping to discover. So it probably will not be a surprise to you to learn that Hugo's name was not printed on the piece of paper in Count Olaf's hand, or Colette's name, or the name of Kevin, who was clasping his equally skilled hands together in nervousness as Olaf finally unfolded the paper completely. It will not surprise you that when Count Olaf announced what the paper said, the eyes of the entire crowd fell on the disguised children. But although you might not be surprised at Count Olaf's announcement, you might be surprised at the announcement that one of the siblings made immediately afterward.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Count Olaf announced, "Beverly and Elliot, the two-headed freak, will be thrown to the lions today."

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Violet Baudelaire announced, "we are thrilled to be chosen."

  Chapter Eleven

  There is another writer I know, who, like myself, is thought by a great deal of people to be dead. His name is William Shakespeare, and he has written four kinds of plays: comedies, romances, histories, and tragedies. Comedies, of course, are stories in which people tell jokes and trip over things, and romances are stories in which people fall in love and probably get married. Histories are retellings of things that actually happened, like my history of the Baudelaire orphans, and tragedies are stories that usually begin fairly happily and then steadily go downhill, until all of the characters are dead, wounded, or otherwise inconvenienced. It is usually not much fun to watch a tragedy, whether you are in the audience or one of the characters, and out of all Shakespeare's tragedies possibly the least fun example is King Lear, which tells the story of a king who goes mad while his daughters plot to murder one another and other people who are getting on their nerves. Toward the end of the play, one of William Shakespeare's characters remarks that "Humanity must perforce prey upon itself, like monsters of the deep," a sentence which here means "How sad it is that people end up hurting one another as if they were ferocious sea monsters," and when the character utters those unhappy words, the people in Shakespeare's audience often weep, or sigh, or remind themselves to see a comedy next time. I am sorry to report that the story of the Baudelaire orphans has reached a point where it is appropriate to borrow Mr. Shakespeare's rather depressing sentence to describe how the Baudelaire orphans felt as they addressed the crowd gathered at the edge of the lion pit and tried to continue the story they found themselves in without turning it into a tragedy, when it seemed that everyone was eager to hurt one another. Count Olaf and his henchmen were eager to see Violet and Klaus jump to their carnivorous deaths, so that Caligari Carnival would become more popular, and Madame Lulu would continue telling Olaf's fortune. Esmé Squalor was eager to see Madame Lulu thrown into the pit, so that she could get all of Olaf's attention, and the Baudelaires' coworkers were eager to help, so they could join Olaf's troupe. The reporter from The Daily Punctilio and the other members of the audience were eager to see violence and sloppy eating, so their visit to the carnival would be worthwhile, and the lions were eager for a meal, after being whipped and denied food for so long. It seemed that every member of humanity gathered at the roller coaster that afternoon was eager for something awful to occur, and the children felt awful as Violet and Klaus stepped toward the plank and pretended they were just as eager.

  "Thank you, Count Olaf, for choosing my other head and I as the first victims in the lion show," Klaus said grandly in his high-pitched voice.

  "Urn, you're welcome," Count Olaf replied, looking a bit surprised. "Now, jump into the pit so we can watch the lions devour you."

  "And do it quickly!" cried the man with pimples on his chin. "I'd like my carnival visit to be worthwhile!"

  "Instead of watching a freak jump into the pit," Violet said, thinking quickly, "wouldn't you rather watch someone push a freak into the pit? That would be much more violent."

  "Grr!" Sunny growled, in disguised agreement.

  "That's a good point," one of the white-faced women said thoughtfully.

  "Oh yes!" cried the woman with dyed hair. "I want to see the two-headed freak thrown to the lions!"

  "I agree," Esmé said, glaring at the two older Baudelaires and then at Madame Lulu. "I'd like to see someone thrown into the pit."

  The crowd cheered and applauded, and Sunny watched as her two siblings took a step toward the plank that hung over the pit where the lions were waiting hungrily. There are tiresome people who say that if you ever find yourself in a difficult situation, you should stop and figure out the right thing to do, but the three siblings already knew that the right thing to do was to dash over to the roller-coaster carts, hook up the fan belt, and escape into the hinterlands with Madame Lulu and her archival library, after calmly explaining to the gathered crowd that bloodshed was not a proper form of entertainment and that Count Olaf and his troupe ought to be arrested that very instant. But there are times in this harum-scarum world when figuring out the right thing to do is quite simple, but doing the right thing is simply impossible, and then you must do something else. The three Baudelaires standing in their disguises in the midst of a crowd eager for violence and sloppy eating, knew that they could not do the right thing, but they thought they could try to get the crowd as frantic as possible, so that they might slip away in the confusion. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny weren't sure if using the techniques of stalling and mob psychology was the right thing to do, but the Baudelaire orphans could not think of anything else, and whether or not it was the right thing to do, their plan did seem to be working.

  "This is absolutely thrilling!" exclaimed the reporter excitedly. "I can see the headline now: 'FREAKS PUSHED INTO LION PIT!' Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!"

  Sunny made the loudest growl she could, and pointed one of her tiny fingers at Count Olaf.

  "What Chabo is trying to convey in her half-wolf language," Klaus said, "is that Count Olaf ought to be the one to push us into the pit. After all, the lion show was his idea."

  "That's true!" the pimpled man said. "Let's see Olaf throw Beverly and Elliot into the pit!"

  Count Olaf scowled at the Baudelaires, and then gave the crowd a smile that showed quite a few of his filthy teeth. "I am deeply honored to be asked," he said, bowing slightly, "but I'm afraid it would not be appropriate at this time."

  "Why not?" demanded the woman with dyed hair.

  Count Olaf paused for a moment, and then made a short, high-pitched sound as disguised as Sunny's growl. "I'm allergic to cats," he explained. "You see? I'm sneezing already, and I'm not even on the
plank."

  "Your allergies didn't bother you when you were whipping the lions," Violet said.

  "That's true," the hook-handed man said. "I didn't even know you had allergies, Olaf."

  Count Olaf glared at his henchman. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, but the crowd didn't want to hear another one of the villain's speeches.

  "Push the freak in, Olaf!" someone shouted, and everyone cheered. Count Olaf frowned, but grabbed Klaus's hand and led the two eldest Baudelaires onto the plank. But as the crowd roared around them and the lions roared beneath them, the Baudelaires could see that Count Olaf was no more eager to get any closer to the hungry lions than they were.