The pimpled man and his mother turned around to see who had spoken, but the Baudelaires did not have to look to know it was Count Olaf who had made the announcement. The villain was standing at the entrance to the fortune-telling tent with a whip in his hand and a particularly nasty gleam in his eye, both of which the siblings recognized. The whip, of course, was the one that Count Olaf used to encourage the lions to become ferocious, which the Baudelaires had seen the previous day, and the gleam was something they had seen more times than they could count. It was the sort of gleam someone might get in their eye when they were telling a joke, but when Olaf looked at people that way it usually meant that one of his schemes was succeeding brilliantly.
“The show starts right now!” he announced again to the people gathering around him. “I’ve just had my fortune told, so I’ve gotten what I wanted.” Count Olaf pointed at the fortune-telling tent with his whip, and then turned around to point at the disguised Baudelaires as he grinned at the crowd. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to go to the lion pit so we can give the rest of you what you want.”
CHAPTER
Ten
“I’m going to the pit right now!” cried a woman in the crowd. “I want to have a good view of the show!”
“So do I,” said a man standing next to her. “There’s no point in having lions eat somebody if you can’t watch it happen.”
“Well, we’d better hurry,” said the man with pimples on his chin. “There’s quite a crowd here.”
The Baudelaire orphans looked around and saw that the pimpled man was speaking the truth.
News of Caligari Carnival’s latest attraction must have spread far beyond the hinterlands, because there were many more visitors than yesterday, and there seemed to be more and more arriving every minute.
“I’ll lead the way to the pit,” announced Count Olaf. “After all, the lion show was my idea, so I should get to walk in front.”
“It was your idea?” asked a woman the children recognized from their stay at Heimlich Hospital. She was wearing a gray suit, and chewing gum as she spoke into a microphone, and the siblings remembered that she was a reporter from The Daily Punctilio. “I’d love to write about it in the newspaper. What is your name?”
“Count Olaf!” Count Olaf said proudly.
“I can see the headline now: ‘COUNT OLAF THINKS UP IDEA FOR LION SHOW,’” said the reporter. “Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!”
“Wait a minute,” someone said. “I thought Count Olaf was murdered by those three children.”
“That was Count Omar,” replied the reporter. “I should know. I’ve been writing about the Baudelaires for The Daily Punctilio. Count Omar was murdered by those three Baudelaire children, who still remain at large.”
“Well, if anyone ever finds them,” someone in the crowd said, “we’ll throw them into the lion pit.”
“An excellent idea,” Count Olaf replied, “but in the meantime, the lions will have a meal of one delicious freak. Follow me, everyone, for an afternoon of violence and sloppy eating!”
“Hooray!” cried several members of the crowd, as Olaf took a bow and began to lead everyone in the direction of the ruined roller coaster where the lions were waiting.
“Come with me, freaks,” Count Olaf ordered, pointing at the Baudelaires. “My assistants are bringing the others. We want all you freaks assembled for the choosing ceremony.”
“I will bring them, my Olaf,” Madame Lulu said in her disguised accent, emerging from the fortune-telling tent. When she saw the Baudelaires, her eyes widened, and she quickly held her hands behind her back. “You lead crowd to pit, please, and give interview to newspaper on way.”
“Oh, yes,” said the reporter. “I can see the headline now: ‘EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH COUNT OLAF, WHO IS NOT COUNT OMAR, WHO IS DEAD.’ Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!”
“It will be exciting for people to read about me,” Count Olaf said. “All right, I’ll walk with the reporter, Lulu. But hurry up with the freaks.”
“Yes, my Olaf,” Madame Lulu said. “Come with me, freaky peoples, please.”
Lulu held out her hands for the Baudelaires to take, as if she were their mother walking them across the street, instead of a fake fortune-teller leading them to a pit of lions. The children could see that one of Madame Lulu’s palms had an odd streak of dirt on it, while the other hand was closed in an odd, tight fist. The children did not want to take those hands and walk toward the lion show, but there were so many people gathered around, eagerly expecting violence, that it seemed they had no other choice. Sunny grabbed ahold of Lulu’s right hand, and Violet grabbed Lulu’s left, and they walked together in an awkward knot in the direction of the ruined roller coaster.
“Olivi—” Klaus started to say, but then looked around the crowd and realized it would be foolish to use her real name. “I mean, Madame Lulu,” he corrected himself, and then leaned across Violet to speak as quietly as he could. “Let’s walk as slowly as we can. Maybe we can find an opportunity to sneak back to the tent and dismantle the lightning device.”
Madame Lulu did not answer, but merely shook her head slightly to indicate that it was not a good time to speak of such matters.
“Fan belt,” Sunny reminded her, as quietly as she could, but Madame Lulu just shook her head.
“You kept your promise, didn’t you?” Klaus murmured, scarcely above a whisper, but Madame Lulu stared ahead as if she had not heard. He nudged his older sister inside their shared shirt. “Violet,” he said, scarcely daring to use her real name. “Ask Madame Lulu to walk more slowly.”
Violet glanced briefly at Klaus, and then turned her head to catch Sunny’s eye. The younger Baudelaires looked back at their sister and watched her shake her head slightly, just as Madame Lulu had, and then look down, where she was holding the fortune-teller’s hand. Between two of Violet’s fingers, Klaus and Sunny could see the tip of a small piece of rubber, which they recognized immediately. It was the part of Madame Lulu’s lightning device that resembled a fan belt—the very thing Violet needed to turn the carts of the roller coaster into an invention that could carry the Baudelaires out of the hinterlands and up into the Mortmain Mountains. But instead of feeling hopeful as they looked at this crucial item in Violet’s hand, all three Baudelaires felt something quite a bit less pleasant.
If you have ever experienced something that feels strangely familiar, as if the exact same thing has happened to you before, then you are experiencing what the French call “déjà vu.” Like most French expressions—“ennui,” which is a fancy term for severe boredom, or “la petite mort,” which describes a feeling that part of you has died—“déjà vu” refers to something that is usually not very pleasant, and it was not pleasant for the Baudelaire orphans to arrive at the lion pit and experience the queasy feeling of déjà vu. When the children had been staying at Heimlich Hospital, they had found themselves in an operating theater, surrounded by a large crowd that was very eager to see something violent occur, such as an operation performed on someone. When the children were living in the town of V.F.D., they had found themselves in a field, surrounded by a large crowd eager to see something violent occur, such as the burning of someone at the stake. And now, as Madame Lulu let go of their hands, the children looked at the enormous and strangely familiar crowd towering over them at the ruined roller coaster. Once again, there were people eager for something violent to happen. Once again, the Baudelaires were afraid for their lives. And once again, it was all because of Count Olaf. The siblings looked past the cheering crowd at the two roller-coaster carts that Violet had adapted. All the invention needed was the fan belt, and the children could continue their search for one of the Baudelaire parents, but as Violet, Klaus, and Sunny looked across the pit at the two small carts joined with ivy and altered to travel across the hinterlands, they felt the queasiness of déjà vu and wondered if there was another unhappy ending in store for them.
“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.”
“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.
A Series of Unfortunate Events Box: The Complete Wreck Page 96