Post by Snoopy Brown on Mar 7, 2017 5:23:16 GMT -5
This is a fanfiction of All the Wrong Questions-Who Could That Be At This Hour? Chapter 1. S. Theodora Markson's POV.
Chapter 1
The Hemlock Tearoom and Stationery Shop was the sort of place where the floors always feel dirty, even when they were cleaned just a few minutes ago. However, they were not clean today. Very disappointing, although not as disappointing as the food they served there. The food at the Hemlock are awful, especially the eggs. They are the worst eggs in history, and would be ranked number 1 in a contest for the worst and foul eggs in history. However, the tea is drinkable, even if the food is not edible and the stationeries are useless. The only thing useful about the place is probably the location. Just across from the street is the train station, so train passengers can pop in and grab a bite. I am not a train passenger, however, nor am I a hungry pedestrian who wants to grab a bite from a lousy tearoom. I am S. Theodora Markson, and before you ask what the S stands for, it will be useful to know that it is not important. The important thing is that Lemony Snicket was right in front of me.
As I walked through the tea tables to the envelope rack, I made sure to brush past his table. Only a little, so his parents won’t notice, but Snicket will know it indicates something. I grabbed the first envelope I saw, tossing a coin to the woman behind the counter. I quickly scribbled a note.
CLIMB OUT THE WINDOW IN THE BATHROOM AND MEET ME IN THE ALLEY BEHIND THIS SHOP. I WILL BE WAITING IN THE GREEN ROADSTER. YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES. –S
I sealed the envelope, tossing it into Snicket’s lap casually as I walked past. I also grabbed his teacup, now that it was laced with laudanum. None of his parents noticed.
As I walked out of the tearoom, I felt a gust of wind blowing onto my face. I knew this isn’t right. I knew Kit shouldn’t be left behind, but I also knew I can’t solve a case without an apprentice. I cannot fail again. I was already ranked 52 in that list of chaperones.
I climbed into my roadster, ignoring the fact that it would crumble apart at the slightest touch. There, I timed Snicket. 5 minutes and 30 seconds.
“I’m S. Theodora Markson. You’re late,” I frowned slightly at Snicket.
“I’m Lemony Snicket. And I have no idea what you are talking about,” he replied, and handed me his letter of introduction. I knew what it was going to say. I already knew that Snicket was an excellent reader, a good cook, a mediocre musician, and an awful quarreller, meaning that I should be able to win every argument.
“I know who you are,” I said, tossing his envelope into the backseat. I stared at the windshield, before further replying. “There’s been a change of plans. We are in a great hurry. The situation is much more serious and complicated than I thought. I am in no position to explain to you under the present circumstances.”
“Under the present circumstances,” he repeated. “So you mean…right now?”
“Of course that’s what I meant.” I looked at him.
“If we’re in such a great hurry, why don’t you say ‘right now’?” Snicket asked. I resisted the urge to slap him. Instead I reached across and pushed open the door.
“Get out,” I said sharply.
“What?” he looked confused.
“I will not be spoken to this way. Your predecessor, the young man who worked under me before you, he never said anything as rude as what you just said. Never. Get out.”
“I’m sorry,”
“Get out.” I repeated, frustrated.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to work under me, Snicket? Do you want me to be your chaperone? Because if you don’t, then get out,” I replied harshly. Snicket didn’t meet my eyes when he said ‘yes’.
“Then know this: I am not your friend. I am not your teacher. I am not a parent or a guardian or anyone who will take care of you. I am your chaperone, and you are my apprentice, a word which her means ‘person who works under me and does absolutely everything I tell him to do.’”
“I know what it means,” he looked back at me. I glared at him, so he sighed. “Fine. I’m contrite,” he said. “A word which here means—“
“You already said you were sorry,” I said. “There is no need to repeat yourself. It’s not only repetitive, it’s redundant, and people have heard it before. I have ears, Snicket. It’s neither proper nor sensible to repeat yourself. I am S. Theodora Markson. You may call me Theodora or Markson. You are my apprentice. You work under me, and do everything I tell you to do. I will call you Snicket. My two tools are example and nagging. I will show you what it is that I do, and then I will tell you to do things yourself. Do you understand?”
“What does the S stand for?”
“Stop asking the wrong questions.” I started the engine, wondering why everyone asks me that question. I suppose it doesn’t really mean anything. It’s more of a mysterious code. “You probably think you know everything, Snicket,” I continued. “You probably think that graduating and managing to sneak out of a bathroom is probably above achieving level. It is not, do you hear me? You know nothing.”
I reached towards the dashboard of my roadster. Snicket glanced at the teacup for the first time, still steaming and puffing up smoke. It was his Hemlock teacup.
“You probably didn’t even notice I took your tea, Snicket,” I chided. I took the teacup and dumped the contents outside the window. We watched as an eerie cloud rose into the air, a sweet yet peculiar smell wafting into our noses.
“Laudanum,” I said in disgust. “It’s an opiate. It’s a medicament. It’s a sleeping draught.” I turned and looked Snicket dead in the eye. “Three sips, and you would have been incoherent, a word which here means mumbling crazy talk and nearly unconscious. You don’t want that, do you? Your parents were planning to hurry you to somewhere else, a place I am sure that is deeply unpleasant, far more unpleasant than the Hemlock Tearoom and Stationary Shop.
The cloud disappeared, and I watched as Snicket watched the tea. I waited for him to take it all in. Finally, he turned to me, and said “Those weren’t my parents.”
I managed a thin smile, and then started to drive through the empty alley.
Chapter 1
The Hemlock Tearoom and Stationery Shop was the sort of place where the floors always feel dirty, even when they were cleaned just a few minutes ago. However, they were not clean today. Very disappointing, although not as disappointing as the food they served there. The food at the Hemlock are awful, especially the eggs. They are the worst eggs in history, and would be ranked number 1 in a contest for the worst and foul eggs in history. However, the tea is drinkable, even if the food is not edible and the stationeries are useless. The only thing useful about the place is probably the location. Just across from the street is the train station, so train passengers can pop in and grab a bite. I am not a train passenger, however, nor am I a hungry pedestrian who wants to grab a bite from a lousy tearoom. I am S. Theodora Markson, and before you ask what the S stands for, it will be useful to know that it is not important. The important thing is that Lemony Snicket was right in front of me.
As I walked through the tea tables to the envelope rack, I made sure to brush past his table. Only a little, so his parents won’t notice, but Snicket will know it indicates something. I grabbed the first envelope I saw, tossing a coin to the woman behind the counter. I quickly scribbled a note.
CLIMB OUT THE WINDOW IN THE BATHROOM AND MEET ME IN THE ALLEY BEHIND THIS SHOP. I WILL BE WAITING IN THE GREEN ROADSTER. YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES. –S
I sealed the envelope, tossing it into Snicket’s lap casually as I walked past. I also grabbed his teacup, now that it was laced with laudanum. None of his parents noticed.
As I walked out of the tearoom, I felt a gust of wind blowing onto my face. I knew this isn’t right. I knew Kit shouldn’t be left behind, but I also knew I can’t solve a case without an apprentice. I cannot fail again. I was already ranked 52 in that list of chaperones.
I climbed into my roadster, ignoring the fact that it would crumble apart at the slightest touch. There, I timed Snicket. 5 minutes and 30 seconds.
“I’m S. Theodora Markson. You’re late,” I frowned slightly at Snicket.
“I’m Lemony Snicket. And I have no idea what you are talking about,” he replied, and handed me his letter of introduction. I knew what it was going to say. I already knew that Snicket was an excellent reader, a good cook, a mediocre musician, and an awful quarreller, meaning that I should be able to win every argument.
“I know who you are,” I said, tossing his envelope into the backseat. I stared at the windshield, before further replying. “There’s been a change of plans. We are in a great hurry. The situation is much more serious and complicated than I thought. I am in no position to explain to you under the present circumstances.”
“Under the present circumstances,” he repeated. “So you mean…right now?”
“Of course that’s what I meant.” I looked at him.
“If we’re in such a great hurry, why don’t you say ‘right now’?” Snicket asked. I resisted the urge to slap him. Instead I reached across and pushed open the door.
“Get out,” I said sharply.
“What?” he looked confused.
“I will not be spoken to this way. Your predecessor, the young man who worked under me before you, he never said anything as rude as what you just said. Never. Get out.”
“I’m sorry,”
“Get out.” I repeated, frustrated.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to work under me, Snicket? Do you want me to be your chaperone? Because if you don’t, then get out,” I replied harshly. Snicket didn’t meet my eyes when he said ‘yes’.
“Then know this: I am not your friend. I am not your teacher. I am not a parent or a guardian or anyone who will take care of you. I am your chaperone, and you are my apprentice, a word which her means ‘person who works under me and does absolutely everything I tell him to do.’”
“I know what it means,” he looked back at me. I glared at him, so he sighed. “Fine. I’m contrite,” he said. “A word which here means—“
“You already said you were sorry,” I said. “There is no need to repeat yourself. It’s not only repetitive, it’s redundant, and people have heard it before. I have ears, Snicket. It’s neither proper nor sensible to repeat yourself. I am S. Theodora Markson. You may call me Theodora or Markson. You are my apprentice. You work under me, and do everything I tell you to do. I will call you Snicket. My two tools are example and nagging. I will show you what it is that I do, and then I will tell you to do things yourself. Do you understand?”
“What does the S stand for?”
“Stop asking the wrong questions.” I started the engine, wondering why everyone asks me that question. I suppose it doesn’t really mean anything. It’s more of a mysterious code. “You probably think you know everything, Snicket,” I continued. “You probably think that graduating and managing to sneak out of a bathroom is probably above achieving level. It is not, do you hear me? You know nothing.”
I reached towards the dashboard of my roadster. Snicket glanced at the teacup for the first time, still steaming and puffing up smoke. It was his Hemlock teacup.
“You probably didn’t even notice I took your tea, Snicket,” I chided. I took the teacup and dumped the contents outside the window. We watched as an eerie cloud rose into the air, a sweet yet peculiar smell wafting into our noses.
“Laudanum,” I said in disgust. “It’s an opiate. It’s a medicament. It’s a sleeping draught.” I turned and looked Snicket dead in the eye. “Three sips, and you would have been incoherent, a word which here means mumbling crazy talk and nearly unconscious. You don’t want that, do you? Your parents were planning to hurry you to somewhere else, a place I am sure that is deeply unpleasant, far more unpleasant than the Hemlock Tearoom and Stationary Shop.
The cloud disappeared, and I watched as Snicket watched the tea. I waited for him to take it all in. Finally, he turned to me, and said “Those weren’t my parents.”
I managed a thin smile, and then started to drive through the empty alley.