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Post by Dante on Nov 25, 2005 8:28:14 GMT -5
“There was an enormous cavern, but a treacherous team of realtors took it for themselves.” -Kit Snicket
Dear Reader,
It was once written that when there is no way of knowing, you can only imagine, and I can only imagine how awful it would be to read this miserable chronicle. It details the details of the tragic defeat suffered by the volunteers of Lake Lachrymose at the hands of a group of wicked realtors, and if you have already heard some details of this story in some other equally saddening books, then you will already know that it is a story to be avoided.
If you don’t wish to find yourself crying hard enough to fill up an entire lake with your tears, then you shouldn’t hesitate to turn away from this allegedly true story immediately, for it includes a dinner party, a dubious fire department, an enormous cavern, a suspicious mailman, a pair of fires, a pair of traitors, and several grammatical mistakes.
I have endured much suffering while researching this terrible tale, but there is no reason why you should suffer as well, so instead I recommend that you read something less insufferable, such as a menu, or a joke.
Regards,
Dante Rubens
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Nov 25, 2005 8:31:59 GMT -5
That's a great Dear Reader letter, and this story sounds really interesting.
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Post by RockSunner on Nov 25, 2005 15:24:04 GMT -5
This looks wonderful, Dante. Please continue.
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Post by PJ on Nov 25, 2005 22:20:12 GMT -5
Bookmarked. Awesome, although I must admit the tear of lakes was a bit overdone. I eagerly await the rest of this...your stories are always great. First Asoue fic you've done, no?
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Post by Dante on Nov 26, 2005 3:41:53 GMT -5
Chapter One
The realtor occupation has been much criticised as of late, and I cannot immediately say whether this is or is not reasonable. While I am sure that there are some noble realtors in the world, helping people to get the right price for their real estate and to get their real estate for the right price, there are many less noble realtors in the world, who make it their aim in life to cause as much harm as possible. It is these treacherous realtors who take centre stage – a word which here means “the most important role, due to their wicked ways” – in this particular story, and who caused so much trouble for a number of brave individuals who only wanted a better, more peaceful world.
Our story begins with a dinner party. However, to be perfectly accurate, this story has its roots long ago, when three siblings lost an important naval battle against a powerful café, but that is itself a separate story, and one which will no doubt be researched by some other volunteer. One person can only do so much research, and even then that research may be incomplete, and the only way you can fill in the gaps is by using your imagination. This would be a dreadful crime if you hadn’t bothered to do any research to begin with, but I have done all the research I can with what evidence I have – a few soggy books, some burnt scraps of paper, and several possibly unreliable witnesses – and so while I cannot guarantee that this story is completely accurate, the main events surely happened somewhat as I have described. One thing which I am quite confident of, though, is that this story did indeed begin with a dinner party hosted by Josephine and Dr. Isaac Anwhistle, at their home above Lake Lachrymose.
The dinner party itself wasn’t a very large one; it was just between the Anwhistles and some friends of theirs, who lived on the submarine Queequeg that had patrolled Lake Lachrymose for years. These people were Captain Widdershins, and his stepdaughter, Fiona. The two volunteer families were very close, and had celebrated V.F.D.’s victories together, and mourned its losses together, such as the loss of Fiona’s mother in an alleged manatee accident some years before, and the loss of Isaac’s brother in a fire before that. Also in attendance was the second in the Queequeg’s crew of two (Fiona being too young to be included), Gorgon, an old friend of Widdershins’s from school, who had only recently joined the crew after the previous second in the crew of two had left on an important project of his own. This was not meant to be a special occasion – merely a friendly get-together before the Queequeg began its long and lonely patrol once again. However, the events which occurred on this day made it into a very special occasion indeed.
“Aye! It’s marvellous! Show us that trick again, Ike!” Captain Widdershins cried to Dr. Isaac Anwhistle, whose friends knew him as “Ike.”
“I think that’s enough for this evening,” Ike replied, chuckling. “I shouldn’t waste the crackers like that too often, I think.”
“And besides, stepfather, you’ve seen Dr. Isaac perform that whistling trick every time we’ve visited,” Fiona added to her stepfather in a stern voice, but with smiling eyes behind her triangular glasses. “You should be familiar with it by now.”
“Aye! But it’s a treat! Aye!” Captain Widdershins cried, his curly moustaches quivering. “And I don’t get a treat very often! Aye! And speaking of treats, when will the next course be ready?”
“The next course will be ready soon,” Josephine Anwhistle said, poking her head from around the kitchen door. “We’re just serving it up right now.”
“Aye! I should hope so! I’m starving!” Captain Widdershins cried. “And besides, a woman’s place is in the kitchen! Aye!”
Fiona and Ike frowned when Captain Widdershins made this statement. “A woman’s place is in the kitchen” is a very sexist saying which means that women aren’t much good at anything except cooking. This is a ridiculous expression, of course, as every well-read person knows that a person’s gender has nothing to do with how good they are at cooking or any other activity. Many prominent television chefs are male, for example, and I’m sure you know of plenty of female individuals who have talents not remotely related to cooking, such as understanding the scientific theory of the water cycle, or alligator-wrestling. But Fiona did not want to argue with her stepfather, and Ike did not want to argue with his guest, so they didn’t argue, but merely tried to disagree without provoking an argument.
“If you say so, Captain,” Ike said. “Although I personally am also very talented at kitchen activities. I’ve even made a cake to serve as a dessert tonight.”
“And Gorgon says that I’m an excellent mycologist,” Fiona added.
“Aye! Of course there are exceptions!” Widdershins cried. “Why, Snakey’s an awful cook, so she shouldn’t be let anywhere near a kitchen! Aye!”
“I heard that,” Gorgon said resentfully, walking into the room holding several platefuls of food. “And I wish you’d call me by my proper name. It’s more polite.”
“Aye! But I’ve called you that since we were children!” Widdershins said, in his loud voice, as Gorgon and Josephine served the food. “I called you Snakey, because of your name and your stringy hair! Aye! And you had a nickname for me, too!”
“No I didn’t,” Gorgon said, frowning.
“Let’s eat, before the food gets cold,” Josephine said, not wanting to make the meal uncomfortable due to an argument between their guests. “Ike, your cake should be ready in a few minutes,” she said, to her husband, who nodded.
“Dr. and Mrs. Anwhistle,” Fiona inquired politely, shortly after beginning her meal, “what have you been up to since you retired?” She was trying to make small talk, a phrase which here means “brief conversation usually occurring during a meal or other social engagement.”
“We’ve mainly been studying the area of Lake Lachrymose,” Ike said, after swallowing a mouthful of food, as it is generally considered impolite to speak while chewing. “We’re writing a book together about the lake, called ‘A Complete Guide to Lake Lachrymose.’”
“It’s very exciting,” Josephine said. “Lots of books have been written about Lake Lachrymose, its history, surroundings, and environment, but we’re aiming to combine all that research into a single complete guidebook. We’ve loved this lake since we were children, and this book will be the culmination of our life’s work.”
“Aye! I bet that’s not what Fiona meant at all!” said the captain slyly, while chewing a mouthful of food. “I think she was talking about your volunteer work! Aye!”
“Stepfather, I’m sure they probably can’t tell us that!” Fiona said.
“And it’s not very polite to speak while chewing, either,” Gorgon added.
“No, no, it’s quite alright,” said Josephine with a nervous laugh, although whether she was dismissing the intrusive question or the captain’s poor table manners was unclear. “As a matter of fact, we have been doing some important work for V.F.D., even though we’ve retired from active service.”
“As well as researching Lake Lachrymose,” Ike said, lowering his voice as though there was nobody around who shouldn’t have been listening, “we’ve been researching villainy around the lake and the Damocles Dock region.”
“It turns out that there was a lot of treachery here in the past,” Josephine said, lowering her voice as well. “At the moment, the town is fairly quiet, but there are many volunteer interests here, and we’ve intercepted many communications indicating that our foes are planning to strike here.”
“How fascinating – and awful,” Gorgon said. “What precisely are the villains planning?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Ike said. “We’ve discovered lists of targets hidden inside a tourist brochure, and decoded a number of ominous messages passed to us by a loyal waiter, and uncovered much more information on miscellaneous villainy besides, but we’re not quite sure what is being planned. Until we figure that out, though, we’re keeping the research in a safe place before sending it to be catalogued by –”
At that instant, an alarm quietly began to sound in the kitchen. “Oh, that must be my cake,” Ike said, getting up from his chair. “Do excuse me.”
As he walked into the kitchen, there were three loud knocks on the door, as well. “I’ll answer the door,” Josephine called to her husband, and she got up from her chair too, smiling apologetically at her guests before heading for the hallway, leaving the crew of the Queequeg alone at the table.
Josephine hadn’t been sure what to expect when she opened the door, but if the captain had asked her to guess, thereby delaying her from answering the door and irritating the awaiting people, she probably would not have guessed that some realtors wanted to speak to her. But indeed, the three people at the door were indeed holding clipboards and wearing shiny red suits and shiny wide smiles, and they were realtors.
“Good morning!” a female realtor said brightly, taking Josephine’s hand and shaking it thoroughly. “We’re realtors, and we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Have you ever considered selling your house?” a male realtor butted in.
“Oh, my,” said Josephine, slightly disoriented by the realtors’ charisma – a word which here means “ability to seem pleasant and convincing to many different people,” and which is too often used for villainous reasons rather than noble ones. “I’m afraid that it’s actually late evening right now. And I certainly don’t want to sell my home.”
“Are you sure it’s a home to you, and not just a house?” the male realtor said, smiling very widely. “It takes a special kind of house to do that, and we have many properties on offer which I’m sure will make you feel very special too.”
“No – no, thank you,” Josephine insisted, pulling her hand from the grip of the female realtor. “My house is not for sale right now.”
“Oh,” said the realtors, and they looked disappointed. “Well, if you ever do feel the need for a change,” the third realtor, who looked like both a man and a woman at the same time, “you can just come and see us. Here’s our business card.” And he, or possibly she, handed a small, shiny piece of card to Josephine, which said on it “Roving Realtors – Make Your House A Lachrymose House,” before the three realtors turned away and began walking toward a shiny red automobile parked nearby, and as Josephine shut the door on them, she heard the sound of the car driving away.
“Well, that was odd,” Josephine said, walking back into the dining room where her guests sat. “I’m sure you won’t be able to guess who was at the door unless you have quite a few tries.”
“We heard, actually,” Gorgon said. “They were realtors.”
“Realtors?” called Ike from the kitchen, and he walked back in holding a large glass plate with a large cake – which wasn’t made of glass – sitting atop it. “What did they want?”
“They wanted you to sell your home,” Fiona said, as Ike and Josephine sat down, and Ike began to cut everyone a slice of the cake. “Mrs. Anwhistle refused, though.”
“Yes, I’m sure she did,” Ike said. “I can’t imagine what realtors would be doing here. We’d never sell this house.”
“I heard them! Aye!” Widdershins cried. “They were quite forceful, but so was Josephine! Aye!”
“They didn’t frighten you, did they, Josephine?” Ike asked, looking at his wife with concern. “I’ve heard that some travelling salesman can be very intimidating,” he continued, using a word which meant “forceful and frightening.”
“Nothing could scare me while you’re here, Ike,” Josephine said, and her husband smiled.
“They weren’t so bad!” Widdershins said. “I heard them from here, and they were very charismatic! I like that in a person! Aye!”
“Well, I’m sure we won’t be seeing them again any time soon,” Ike said, and it was very sad indeed that he was wrong. He was not particularly wrong – the dinner party, for example, continued on normally without realtor influence, with Josephine and Ike entertaining their guests with tales from their youth, and Fiona talking about various mushrooms and fungi, and Captain Widdershins saying “Aye!” a lot, and Gorgon being taciturn, until the party broke up and Widdershins, Fiona and Gorgon snuck back down a secret passageway in the hillside to a cave far below the Anwhistle home where they had left the Queequeg, and Ike and Josephine spent the rest of the evening playing word games and talking about grammar. But while the realtors might not have shown up very soon, they would reappear quite soon, and would play a terrible and tragic part in the Anwhistle’s lives, and indeed the last thing Isaac Anwhistle would see would be a realtor, and that sight was also something that he would see quite soon.
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Post by PJ on Nov 26, 2005 5:02:28 GMT -5
Excellent...your style is more identical to Lemony's than any other story I've ever read. Also, Gorgon's appearance is rather...ominous.
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Post by champ103 on Nov 26, 2005 6:05:56 GMT -5
Good-that was a really enjoyable read.
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Post by Ennui on Nov 26, 2005 6:11:05 GMT -5
Tremendous. This is a historic moment-Dante sachays into ASOUE fanfics. The time has come...
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Nov 26, 2005 7:52:53 GMT -5
Wonderful. Gorgon is certainly an interesting character, and you're very good at writing in Snicket's style.
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Post by RockSunner on Nov 26, 2005 9:03:53 GMT -5
This is very Lemony and good. I also like the appearance of the new character, Gorgon, who must be "that awful woman who turned out to be a spy."
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Post by PJ on Nov 26, 2005 19:33:32 GMT -5
Ah, strangely enough, I thought that Gorgon was a man, until RockSunner made me re-read it by what he had said. It's still good.
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Post by deanna. on Nov 26, 2005 21:03:21 GMT -5
Fantastic. I love it. Gorgon is cool.
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Post by Dante on Nov 27, 2005 3:50:48 GMT -5
Chapter Two
The next day was a busy day for the Anwhistles. In the morning, they went diving, waiting until an hour after breakfast before they did so that the ferocious Lachrymose Leeches wouldn’t smell any food on them. Underwater, they visited the caves and studied the undersea plants of the lake, taking notes on waterproof paper with a waterproof pen. Afterwards, they added their new notes to the large bundle of papers that was A Complete Guide to Lake Lachrymose, before going to eat lunch at a restaurant called the Anxious Clown. The Anxious Clown was a dreadful restaurant, with its name spelt out in broken neon lights above the door, balloons in the windows, and atrociously bright paint on the walls. The food was just as dreadful as the restaurant’s decoration, but the Anwhistles had not visited the Anxious Clown solely to eat its dreadful food.
“We’d like two Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers, please,” Ike said.
“And water to drink,” Josephine added.
The waiter, who was wearing a goofy clown costume with a name tag pinned to his chest that read QUISLING, frowned as he wrote down the order on his notepad. “Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers,” he said. “Do you need cheering up, then?”
“I’m afraid,” Josephine said, and then continued in a low, meaningful voice, “that we are very sad indeed right now.”
“Oh?” Quisling replied, and then he too spoke in a low and meaningful voice. “I didn’t realise this was a sad occasion.”
Ike dropped his voice so low that it was almost a whisper, and so meaningful that nobody could mistake the fact that he was saying something meaningful. “The world is quiet here,” he said. When Quisling heard him, he nodded meaningfully, although he did not nod low, and he turned around and went into the kitchens at the back of the restaurant. The Anwhistles waited in tense silence for him to return, not wanting to discuss their business amidst all the happy, gloomy, and irritating families sitting around the other tables in the Anxious Clown. Finally, Quisling returned, bearing a tray on which sat two steaming Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers.
“Here are your Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers!” he sang out loudly, and lifted them onto the table. Only somebody standing very close would have been able to tell that there were some envelopes hidden beneath the large plates that he served, and that when Ike reached up from the table to shake Quisling’s hand, he also passed a sheet of paper that had been screwed up very small, and that when Quisling drew back his hand, he dropped the ball of paper into one of the large pockets on his clownish suit. Quisling hurriedly withdrew, and the Anwhistles ate their Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers hurriedly, not just because they were eager to leave the restaurant and see the information they had just received, but also because the food was disgusting, and they wanted to eat it as quickly as possible.
After they had paid and left, the Anwhistles walked along Lake Lachrymose’s coast for a while, away from the town and market, before reaching the nearby Condiment Bay, which was empty at the time due to the dreary weather. The Anwhistles sighed in relief as they finally got some privacy and safety to open their important deliveries.
“I hope that Quisling has passed us some useful research,” Ike said, as he opened one of the envelopes with an apostrophe-shaped paperknife. “I think I’m getting too old to spy on libraries for three nights just to find out the patrols of the security staff, when we could just have asked the head librarian.”
“But so many people have turned away from us now,” sighed Josephine. “It’s getting difficult to trust anybody, even somebody we’ve known for yours – even somebody who looks after a library as large as the Alexandria Institute. Hopefully, now that V.F.D. knows the patrols of the security staff, they’ll be able to sneak in and spy on Pongo, and tell if he really is a volunteer, or if he’s become a villain.”
“After all, who would suspect a librarian?” murmured Ike, holding up one of the received letters to read. He frowned as he read it, and Josephine frowned at his frowning.
“What is it?” she asked, and peered over his shoulder to read the piece of paper.
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VOLUNTEER FACTUAL DISPATCH
To: Quisling Quagmire From: J.S. Date: [None Given]
Forward to Dr Isaac and Josephine Anwhistle immediately STOP.
We have received information that the Lavender Lighthouse is in danger STOP. The attack from our enemies is supposed to come this very night STOP. Please stay at the lighthouse tonight and ensure that no harm comes to it or the lighthouse-keeper STOP. If Lavender Lighthouse is unable to send it’s coded signals, then our foes will get the upper hand in the situation in the sea STOP.
CC: Submarine Queequeg (J.W.; G.Q.).
---
“Well, I suppose we won’t be compiling that list of seabirds roosting on Storr Stack this evening,” Josephine said, referring to a large pillar of rock with an eye-shaped hollow in one side at the far side of Lake Lachrymose.
“We can take time for our hobbies on another day,” Ike said. “But saving lives is always more important, just as basic punctuation is more important than hurrying through a letter without taking the time. Speaking of which, there appears to be a misplaced apostrophe in this Volunteer Factual Dispatch.”
“And there should be a period after your title, if it’s not written out in full,” Josephine sniffed. “Clearly J.S., whoever he or she is, isn’t as interested in grammar as we are. Maybe this second letter is less painful to read.”
This said, Josephine picked up Ike’s paperknife, slit open her own envelope, and held up the letter within. She gasped, and Ike gasped at her gasp, and then he peered over her shoulder and gasped at the contents of the letter.
---
VOLUNTEER FACTUAL DISPATCH
To: Quisling Quagmire From: J.S. Date: [None Given]
Forward to Dr. Isaac and Josephine Anwhistle immediately STOP.
We have received information that the submarine Queequeg has joined our enemies STOP. The submarine in question has ignored important instructions sent within Volunteer Factual Dispatches, and other sources have indicated that the crew may not be trustworthy STOP. Please sever all communications with the Queequeg and its crew of two or three until our investigation is complete STOP. If the Queequeg is unable or unwilling to perform its duty, then our foes will get the upper hand in the situation in the sea STOP.
---
“How extraordinary!” Ike gasped.
“I agree,” Josephine added, in a low voice. “It’s from the same person, but they haven’t made the same grammatical mistakes!”
“I mean the contents of the letter as well, Josephine,” Ike said, sounding concerned. “Who would suspect Captain Widdershins? He may have several character flaws, but treachery isn’t one of them. He’d never betray us or V.F.D. His heart has always been in the right place.”
“I’m sure that the investigation J.S. mentions will sort this out,” Josephine said. “Speaking of which, it still seems very odd to me that this J.S. is so inconsistent.”
“It must be a different person,” Ike said. “Lots of people have the initials J.S. It’s certainly tiresome, though, that they won’t write out their full name.”
Josephine re-read the two Volunteer Factual Dispatches, slowly. “The first Volunteer Factual Dispatch has been copied to the Queequeg,” she said. “They may know about our mission tonight.”
“If they’re noble, I’m sure they won’t interfere, nor will they if their telegram device is broken,” Ike said. “But if they’ve become treacherous, then they might.”
“We’ve been friends for years,” Josephine said. “We ate dinner with them just last night, and they were as pleasant as ever. Even if they have to interfere with our mission as part of their new villainous duties, I’m sure they won’t harm us.”
Ike did not reply to this statement, and Josephine didn’t reply to his unsaid reply. The pair of them merely sat in silence in Condiment Bay, remembering all the happy memories they shared of dinner parties with Captain Widdershins and Fiona, and their second crewmate, be it Mrs. Widdershins, or Jacques Snicket, or Jacques’s brother, who hadn’t stayed for long, and long before that, when Fiona’s brother had joined them at their dining table. But then they remembered all of the less happy occasions, such as when Fiona’s mother had died. They remembered the days after Fiona’s brother had gone missing, and how long it had been before the Queequeg had given up hope of his return. They remembered the shocking rumours that had reached them, and which they hadn’t mentioned at their dinner parties, about what Fiona’s brother had done, and the sinister connections to the death of Ike’s own brother. They wondered and wondered if Captain Widdershins, Fiona, and Gorgon had gone the same way as Fiona’s brother had supposedly gone, according to the newspaper article Jacques had passed to them in secret, and would soon be burning down buildings as well. They wondered and wondered at all the terrible situations that might come to pass, in their home or in the town or in the sea, and they wondered just how much more treachery and sadness they would have to endure in their lives. But finally, they remembered that just because something is written down, that doesn’t mean it is true – particularly in the case of another newspaper article that Widdershins had insisted on passing around himself which had turned out to be untrue, and how uncomfortable Widdershins and Jacques’s brother had been around each other ever since. Just because J.S. had written that the crew of the Queequeg were villains did not mean that they were, and just because another J.S. had written that Lavender Lighthouse was in danger did not mean that anything terrible would happen there. Just because Pongo, and the Baudelaires, and so many other noble volunteers had been rumoured to have started fighting fire with fire in the past did not mean it was so, and this was a comforting thought to the Anwhistles as they began their journey back to their home, to prepare for their important mission that very night. But as they passed through the town on their way home, Ike and Josephine noticed another strange thing. Rows and rows of houses near Damocles Dock had suddenly undergone a slight change, and for a moment the Anwhistles were not sure what had changed. But then they realised that almost every house now had a tall, shiny FOR SALE sign outside, bearing the name of Roving Realtors, and this was another thing that gave them reason to wonder, and to worry.
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Post by PJ on Nov 27, 2005 4:06:53 GMT -5
Intriguing....who is good, and who isn't? Another fine chapter, although it was less Lemony than the previous ones.
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Post by Ennui on Nov 27, 2005 7:20:42 GMT -5
I liked this chapter best actually. Lemony's a starting point, but it's fun to free yourself from his shackles.
G.Q. must be Gorgon Quagmire...
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