A Tale of Wretched Occurrences: The Beginning

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓝𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷

Count Olaf stands with his hands lifted in the air dramatically as if he’s expecting something to happen. Mr. Poe coughs. The clock ticks.

“What?” Violet says, confused.

Klaus pushes his glasses up his nose. The henchperson of indeterminate gender looks up at the ceiling. Count Olaf glances out the window. He adjusts his position, partially hiding his right arm from view. When he presses it, radio static crackles.

“A quarantine!” he shouts again.

Still, nothing happens. You stifle a yawn. Mr. Poe glances at his watch.

“How long is this going to take?” he asks.

Count Olaf presses the button on what you assume is a walkie-talkie hidden in his sleeve a few more times, but besides more static, nothing happens.

“Uh, it’s the police. It’s in their hands now,” Olaf stammers.

The doorbell rings.

“Oh, that must be them!” Count Olaf says.

“I must say, these are some impressive response times for a house in the country,” Mr. Poe marvels.

He opens the door, and a stream of henchpeople come in. They’re all wearing more of Olaf’s ridiculous costumes.

“Mobile Crime Lab,” the hook-handed man says, wearing a detective outfit and fake hands.

“At your service,” the bald man adds, wearing a police uniform.

“We always get our man,” one of the white-faced women says.

“Or snake,” the other one says.

They’re wearing what you guess are cleaning lady outfits and are carrying a roll of measuring tape between them.

“These are Count Olaf’s accomplices!” Klaus shouts.

“And they’re all wearing costumes,” Violet says.

“No, children, these are adults.” Mr. Poe informs you condescendingly. “Adults don’t wear costumes unless they’re at a charity ball. Or they happen to be employed as actors.”

“They are employed as actors,” you argue.

The hook-handed man ignores you as he gives orders to the rest of the troupe, before leaving for the kitchen.

“Don’t you recognize them?” you ask.

“That’s the hook-handed man!” Klaus shouts.

“And those two women were in Count Olaf’s play,” Violet insists.

“Oh, children, it’s rude to question people in authority,” Mr. Poe says, disappointed. “Besides, the women in that play had ghastly theatrical makeup on their faces, and this man is opening a can of peaches with hands, not hooks.”

The hook-handed man walks back in with a can opener in one of Monty’s peaches.

“That’s Uncle Monty’s food. Stop eating his food!” Klaus yells hysterically.

“I was only gonna have a few peaches,” the hook-handed man says defensively.

Mr. Poe steps between you and your siblings and the hook-handed man.

“The children lost their uncle today. I’m sure you can understand.” He turns to you. “Violet, Klaus, Millie, Sunny, why don’t you wait upstairs? The adults will take care of it from here.”

“But Mr. Poe-” you start.

“The adults will take care of it from here,” he repeats firmly.

“Come on. The adults won’t take care of anything. But we will,” Violet says furiously as she storms upstairs. You and Klaus follow.