A Tale of Wretched Occurrences: The Beginning

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂-𝓕𝓲𝓿𝓮

“Seeing in black and white” is a way of saying that a person looks at the world in a manner that is oversimplified and often incorrect. Like many newspapers, the Daily Punctilio is printed in black and white, and its look at the world is oversimplified and often incorrect.

For example, the death of noted herpetologist Dr. Montgomery Montgomery was not due to snake allergies. The destruction of Josephine Anwhistle’s home was not the work of a group of real estate agents. Lemony Snicket is not dead. There was not a terrible accident at Lucky Smells Lumbermill during yours and your siblings' time there.

There were two.

Some people do have the duty to report such events in a manner that is detailed and often correct. But for those who prefer to look at the world in black and white, it is best to put down such reports and pick up a newspaper instead. For when it comes to occurrences as wretched as these, it’s better not to read them.

Unfortunately, you don’t have that luxury, because you’re living out the events right now.

㊋㊋㊋㊋

“Thank you. I can see,” Klaus says plainly.

“Well, of course you can see,” a woman who you assume is Dr. Orwell declares. “I’m an excellent optometrist, no matter what the medical board says.”

Count Olaf turns to you and Violet.

“Well, hello, little girls. What are your names?” he asks in a falsely high-pitched voice.

“You know our names. That wig and poorly done lipstick don’t fool us.”

Count Olaf gasps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Dr. Orwell’s receptionist. My name is Shirley.”

“Shirley Count Olaf?”

“Actually, my last name is St. Ives. It says so on my nametag. See?” Count Olaf points to the small nametag pinned to the pink blouse he most likely stole from Dr. Orwell to complete his disguise.

“Ke zoo belb,” Sunny babbles, which means, “Nametag schmametag.”

“What have you done to Klaus?” you ask.

“You were right. These children are horribly impolite,” Dr. Orwell says disapprovingly.

“They really should be more careful, Dr. Orwell. If they were to do something impolite to me, like, for example, call me by the wrong name, I would have to do something impolite to them, like, for example, tear their hair out with my bare hands.” Count Olaf lifts up a red tin and opens it in one motion. “Cookie?”

A horn honks next to you, and you all turn to see Charles on a bike pulling Sir, who’s sitting in a wheeled cart eating an omelette.

“What’s all this? I don’t pay you in gum to stand around gabbing!”

“Oh, hello children,” Charles pants. “I hope you’re having a nice visit with the optometrist.”

“Charles, you have to listen,” Violet says hurriedly. “This woman is a notorious villain. And she’s not a woman.”

“Nonsense!” Sir exclaims. “Dr. Orwell has provided free eye exams to my employees for years. And there’s nothing villainous about free healthcare.” Sir motions to her with his fork. “Clearly, she’s a woman. Look at her pantsuit!”

“I’m surprised at you, Baudelaires,” Charles adds. “Women can be doctors, just as men can be receptionists.”

“I’m talking about the receptionist,” Violet argues.