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Post by Foxy on Dec 24, 2018 9:43:20 GMT -5
Dear Dairy,
Hooky went with Count Olaf to raid the submarine. “Traitor,” I said, which meant, “I can’t believe Hooky is bad after all.” I was really hoping for a happy ending to our complicated relationship.
Violet and Klaus tried to convince Fiona to come with us to Briny Beach. “Greenhut!” I cried, which meant, “But I don’t want to go to Briny Beach!”
Fiona said she is staying with her brother. I get that. He is the only family she seems to have, even if he is a pirate-traitor. “Rendezvous,” I said, which meant, “If you two can escape from Count Olaf someday, let’s meet at a secret location.”
I tried to think of a parting gift I could give Fiona. What did she like again? Oh, yes, mushrooms. I knew where some of those were. I wandered back to the kitchen. “Mmph!” I said as I dragged the diving helmet back through the kitchen door. Violet told me not to touch it. “Mycolo,” I said, which meant, “Good luck with these party animals, Fiona.”
Then Count Olaf came back with Hooky, Esmé, and Carmelita. Count Olaf took the mushroom party helmet I had given to Fiona. Then the sea monster showed up just in time, and it made Count Olaf go away again. He seems awfully afraid of that thing, which makes me admire it all the more.
Hooky waved goodbye to us. Maybe he has a good plan up his hooks after all. Fiona said she would let us escape, and Violet said she and Klaus would do important jobs. “Serve cake,” I said, which meant, “We can finally celebrate Violet’s birthday.”
And guess what! Fiona kissed Klaus! Eww! Klaus was pretty upset Fiona didn’t come with us, and Violet told him maybe Hooky was right about people not being wicked or noble. “Correctiona,” I said, which meant, “Actually, I think Fiona and Hooky might be noble after all.” Fiona doesn’t seem to be the type of person to join a wicked group of people. I think something secret is going on.
Violet and Klaus got ready to leave on the Queequeg. “Amnesi,” I said, which meant, “In case you’ve forgotten, our submarine has a gigantic hole in it.”
Violet told me I have to repair the porthole. “Cook,” I replied. “Cook and teeth,” which meant, “Repairing things isn’t really my strong suit.”
Klaus pointed out the sea monster getting closer to us. “Aye,” I agreed, which meant, “Maybe if I repair the porthole, I will be able to see my future friend through it.”
I was feeling stressed out and really had a hankering to chew on something. Then I remembered Phil had left all his packs of gum behind. “Gangway!” I cried as I ran past Klaus, which meant, “Move it or lose it, Klaus!”
I came back out with a couple boxes. “Gum!” I said, which meant, “This is a healthy alternative to thrill-seeking!” Then Violet said I could use the gum to stick the porthole back together. What a great idea!
I started filling my mouth with as much gum as I could while Violet and Klaus talked. “Aye!” I cried, enjoying talking with my mouth full.
I spread the chewed gum around the window, thinking of the sign on the Lucky Smells Lumbermill made of gum. I thought of all the occupations I have had over the months, from lumbermill worker, to school secretary, to handyman’s assistant, to surgeon, to carnie, and now to professional submarine chef. I wonder what occupation I will have next. Maybe politician? I don’t know where I stand on very many issues. “Help!” I cried, which meant, “Violet! Klaus! Which side of mushrooms’ rights is our family on?”
Violet and Klaus came to put the porthole back in the wall while I attempted to count to three, which I recently learned is not minga.
Then I saw it – the beautiful, dark beast. But Violet said, “Shh,” so I was not allowed to call out and befriend the monster. I hope I encounter him again someday.
After the beast was gone, I served everyone cake. Even though it was soft, I still enjoyed eating the dessert. I guess my tastes are changing.
Finally we arrived at the beach. “Valve?” I asked, which meant, “Who will activate the valve if the captain and Phil are not here?”
But Violet said we didn’t need to activate the valve. We climbed up the ladder and wound up back on the foggy beach. “Gack!” I said, which obviously meant, “Look at that square-headed robot coming straight for us! I hope to make friends with it!”
That Mr. Poe fooled me again! Will I never meet a friendly robot?
Mr. Poe wanted to take us to the police station, but Violet said no and started reciting poetry. “Code,” I said, which meant, “Quigley wrote you a love letter.”
Violet said we were supposed to get in a taxi and not go with Mr. Poe. “Sayonara,” I said, which meant, “Goodbye hopefully forever.”
Klaus wondered why Quigley said ‘violet’ in the poem. “More code,” I said, which meant, “More love letter.” Yuck.
Mr. Poe kept calling after us, but we went to the taxi instead. The taxi driver said she is Kit Snicket, so now we are in the taxi. I hope she is taking us to a beach without fog. I am ready for a vacation.
To My Kind Editor, Concierge. Love, Sunny Baudelaire
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Chapter 13 of The Grim Grotto.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 24, 2018 13:34:55 GMT -5
I appreciate that you take a kinder line towards Fiona and Fernald; for a long time in the fandom, Fiona was viewed, in my opinion unfairly, as a kind of evil temptress who'd ripped out Klaus's heart with her bare hands. "Cook and teeth," in context, is one of my favourite of Sunny's lines, and it is undiminished in your version. There's quite a bit of reflection in this chapter on how far she's come, as a character. I look forward to where the final volumes take her.
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Post by Foxy on Dec 25, 2018 8:28:02 GMT -5
I think for a long time I didn't like Fiona for those reasons, but upon my most recent re-readings I am more sympathetic to the choices she made.
Dear Reader,
Brunch?
Love,
Sunny Baudelaire
To Mommy –
No one could extinguish my appetite,
or our stove the day I decided I wanted warm milk.
Dear Dairy,
We got into a cab with Kit Snicket, and she is a crazy driver. I am not sure who let her have a driver’s license, but that person made an error.
Anyway, Kit said we barely have time to eat brunch. “Brunch?” I asked, which meant, “It rhymes with crunch; is brunch crunchy food?” I would be a fan of this.
Kit said some people are not very noble. “Olaf,” I said, which meant, “And some people don’t shower often enough.” Kit gave us a very interesting look in the rearview mirror, like she was keeping a secret.
Kit said there might be enemies in the taxi behind us, and then she drove through a shrub. We spun around, and I started to feel very hot. “Condition?” I asked, which meant, “Does this taxi have air conditioning?” I do not like feeling hot.
Then Kit told us she was pregnant. I remember when Mommy was pregnant, and I could hear Daddy play music on a phonograph, and Mommy would dance. I liked the music and the swaying. Life was simpler before I was born.
As we got out of the cab, Violet and Klaus kept asking questions to each other. “Trust?” I said quietly, which meant, “Can we trust a person who drives about as well as Count Olaf?" I still remember when he hit Mr. Poe's car with Uncle Monty's jeep. I guess hitting another car is worse than hitting a shrub.
Then we talked about an opera, which I remembered was called La Forza del Destino.
You know, Dairy, maybe I can speak lion after all.
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Chapter 1 of The Penultimate Peril.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 25, 2018 13:11:52 GMT -5
Sunny's impressions of the characters are always a joy. "Life was simpler before I was born"; ain't that the truth. Nice mirroring of that memory from the book in Sunny's natal perspective.
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Post by Foxy on Dec 26, 2018 20:08:33 GMT -5
Dear Dairy,
As we sat down to eat our brunch, I had a feeling someone was watching us. I looked back at the hotel and noticed an open window up on the sixth floor. I thought I saw a tiny person, tinier than me, looking down at us, but then someone pulled a curtain over the window.
Violet, Klaus, and I remembered a time when we stayed at the Hotel Preludio. Then Kit Snicket told us the V.F.D. headquarters were the penultimate safe place. “Penulhoo?” I asked, which meant, “Wouldn’t the justices in the high court make sure there are more safe places?” I know Justice Strauss would want there to be more safe places.
We started talking about J.S., who Violet guessed was Uncle Jacques. “Brother?” I asked, which meant, “If Uncle Jacques was your brother, does that mean you are Aunt Kit?”
Kit said she has another brother. I wonder who that guy is.
Then Kit said she and Violet’s boyfriend sent a volunteer dispatch to Captain Widdershins. “Queequeg,” I said, which meant, “Are we allowed to just leave a submarine washed up on a beach?” I hope we don’t get a parking ticket. I thought about the abandoned submarine for a while, and how various beach animals may attempt to climb aboard and pilot the craft. “Why not safe?” I asked, which meant, “Why is it not safe to allow sea lions to operate a submarine?”
Then Kit said someone is posing as Uncle Jacques. Violet suggested it was Count Olaf, but Kit seemed rather eager to defend Count Olaf. Hmmm. Kit also said everyone is looking for the same thing. “Sugar bowl,” I said, wondering how the story would have been different if I had not lost the sugar bowl in Hurricane Herman. Maybe the sea lions wouldn’t be attempting to steal the submarine. “Expound,” I said, which meant, “If the police try to put the sea lions in the pound, I will help them escape.” I could go to the pound, pretending to be interested in adopting the sea lions, and when the pound workers open the cage doors, I could create a diversion to allow the sea lions to get away. But with a group of sea lions that large, some of them might be recaptured. “Expound again,” I decided. I am going to need all the sea lions I can possibly get if I want to commandeer the Queequeg. “Sugar bowl,” I said again. If only I hadn’t stolen that bowl from Uncle Monty in the first place, the sea lions would not be in this mess.
Kit said she was not coming with us to the hotel. “Us alone?” I asked, which meant, “Do we finally get to be off on our own without any adults telling us what to do?” Independence at last!
Then Kit started crying, so I hugged her knees. No one can resist a baby hug. Then Kit left, and I picked up the clothing left for us. “Change?” I asked, which meant, “Do I finally get to get out of my ill-fitting submarine uniform?”
Violet and Klaus said they hoped things became more clear. “Also hope so,” I said, and I hoped for many things. I hoped the leftover brunch wouldn’t go to waste, and I hoped my concierge uniform would fit, and I hoped to escape back to Briny Beach and find a colony of sea lions ready to take my orders to sail away with the Queequeg.
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Chapter 2 of The Penultimate Peril.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 27, 2018 4:30:33 GMT -5
I've always been a little bit bothered by the way the Queequeg was just abandoned on Briny Beach; though as we learn from The End, it seems its original crew did return. And the original TPP never really revisits this idea of somebody posing as Jacques, though admittedly Kit's evidence was a little bit ropey anyway. To be honest, everyone might well have been better off had the Baudelaires just run away with a gang of sea lions...
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Post by Foxy on Dec 27, 2018 10:26:26 GMT -5
Dear Dairy,
This hotel is hopping, and I love it. As I walked confidently along the green wooden floors, I heard a man playing the piano with much emotion, and I saw a sinister looking fountain. Violet and Klaus started talking about our tasks. “Frank first,” I said, which meant, “I should be honest with you – I wasn’t really listening to what Kit told us to do.” Should I be calling her “Aunt Kit?” I don’t know. “Or both,” I said, which meant, “And then there’s Kit’s other brother – is he my uncle, too?” I need to see a family tree.
Then we met one of the hotel managers, who had to leave to take care of some luggage. It belonged to someone who wouldn’t arrive until Thursday arrived. “Thursinterest,” I said after the manager left, which meant, “I am interested in this ‘Thursday’ person.”
Then another manager came and welcomed us. Violet said he must be earnest. “Or frank,” I said, using a synonym for the word earnest. The man was talking, and I was thinking about looking for a restaurant somewhere in the hotel.
Then there was a pause, and I realized the man had asked a question, but I wasn’t paying attention, so I had no idea what his question was. “Hmm,” I said, which is often a safe answer when you weren’t actually listening to someone. This seemed to work, and then the other manager left.
It was starting to become apparent that I wasn’t going to get a group of sea lions together to crew the Queequeg. “Nidiculous,” I said, which meant, “I think I might head up to room 590 to search for a pet bird or seven.” Then all I would need is a sleigh, and they could fly me all over the world. Although, if I posed as Santa Claus, we would probably all end up in jail. “Expound,” I said as one of the managers showed up again, which meant, “Then someone who have to break us all out of jail.” All of my plans lately involve animals going to jail. Maybe I need to rethink my life.
The manager told us all about the Dewey Decimal System and the hotel, and Klaus asked where we could find a cat on a log to help us navigate the hotel. In my experience, cats are the least helpful animals there are. The manager said there is no cat on a log, and then I think he started talking in a code Viper had taught me back when we lived with Uncle Monty, but Klaus answered before I could. Then the manager had to take a phone call from a banker, whom I can only assume is Mr. Poe.
Violet said I have to go to room 371. “Unsafe,” I said, which meant, “But the last time I went to a school, I stapled my fingers together several times.” I still have the scars from my secretarial work.
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Chapter 3 of The Penultimate Peril.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 27, 2018 12:11:40 GMT -5
This chapter's very convenient in how it allows for Sunny to have an alternative perspective; using "Frank" and "Ernest" as adjectives instead of names; you make good use of it. And there's appropriate foreshadowing for where Sunny's next chapter will take her.
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Post by Foxy on Dec 28, 2018 11:12:34 GMT -5
Dear Dairy,
I really enjoy riding in elevators.
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Not a Chapter of The Penultimate Peril.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 29, 2018 3:21:19 GMT -5
Oh, turns out I would have had time to read this new chapter yesterday, after all!
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Post by Foxy on Dec 29, 2018 10:46:45 GMT -5
I couldn't help myself. Dear Dairy, I was the first of my siblings to get out of the elevator to do my concierge duties, so if you ever find yourself reading a book about us as we stayed at the Hotel Denouement, you should definitely read the chapter about what I did first. I heard a horrible sound coming from room 371 which reminded me even more of my secretarial days at Prufrock Prep. Dairy, we have come full circle. I knocked on the door, and a booming voice asked me who was interrupting him. “Concierge,” I said, which meant, “I am a hotel professional.” The man made fun of me, and it turned out to be my former employer, Vice Principal Nero. His hair was much longer now, which made me realize how very long it had been since I was a school secretary. Nero asked me what I wanted. “You rang,” I said, which meant, “I don’t want anything. What do you want?” Mr. Remora and Mrs. Bass were also in the room, and they were hungry. I thought this might be a good excuse to head up to Room 637, but Mrs. Bass wanted Indian food in Room 954. I almost said, “Andiamo,” which is lion for, “Let’s go,” but then I remembered these were teacher and not lions, so I just gestured which way they should go. Then I found out Mrs. Bass has loot! It looks like she borrowed it from Mr. Poe. Good for her! I had never thought to borrow anything from Mr. Poe before, although I was always fond of his pet goldfish, which I got to see every time Violet, Klaus, and I stayed at his house in between guardians. As we rode the elevator up, I felt rather sleepy. “Nine,” I said, which meant, “I wonder if it is my naptime yet.” We all got out of the elevator and went to the restaurant. Dairy Dairy Dairy! Guess who works at the restaurant! It’s Hal! I had always hoped to run into him again and apologize for stealing his keys and biting him. Hal took everyone’s ridiculous orders. The teachers talked, and Nero sent me away for napkins just as the conversation was getting interesting. I decided to duck into the kitchen to try to apologize to Hal, and then I found another old friend, Eggy! He looked like he had seen better days. I asked him what meal he was an ingredient for, but he did not answer. Hal was talking to one of the managers. I decided to eavesdrop. It seemed Hal was talking to the manager in code, but it was a code I could not crack. Then the cloud of steam I was hiding behind evaporated, and the two men asked if I was who they thought I was. “Concierge,” I answered, which meant, “I am posing as a hotel professional, but I am only two-and-a-half feet tall. If you are on the noble side of V.F.D., you should be able to figure out who I am.” They must have understood me, because Hal gave a metal-spider-door-lock to the manager, who gave it to me. He asked if I knew what it was. “Yes,” I responded, which meant, “That’s a metal-spider-door-lock.” The manager told me to take the lock to the laundry room in the basement. As I rode down the elevator, I heard a loud clock ring three times. An ugly washerwoman came out of the laundry room, and I put the lock on the door. [This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Chapter 6 of The Penultimate Peril.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 29, 2018 14:16:11 GMT -5
Nice metatextual tie to the format of the original TPP; I also like the extra detail about what it was like at Mr. Poe's house, as we never learn really anything about it. It's a well-written chapter throughout.
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Post by Foxy on Dec 30, 2018 13:11:58 GMT -5
Dear Dairy,
I love working as a concierge! Curiously, Violet and Klaus were stuck in the lobby for the rest of the afternoon, but I had more occasions to venture into the small elevator.
At first, I stayed on the first floor and visited Room 172, where I met a man in a robe and crown claiming to be the King of Arizona. He requested a disgusting flavored soda, which I happened to find in the bellhop’s mini fridge in their lounge. When I questioned him on his made up job, he taught me about something called “mob psychology,” which sounded vaguely familiar. Anyway, he said he became King of Arizona by getting all his friends to show up at a rally, intersperse themselves in a crowd, and proclaim him king.
Later, I was summoned up to Room 415. The person was too afraid to open the door and let me in, but she did slip a note under the door requesting me to bring her some cucumbers. The paper seemed to have some claw-marks cutting off the edges of the sheet.
Then I acted as a tour guide when I took a group of children to a museum in Room 567. I tried to talk with some of the exhibits and ask them if they know where Viper is, but the exhibits were silent. The scuttlebutt around the hotel is Viper has left his private medical practice to become an emergency medical technician.
Soon I was asked to bring a large bag of coffee beans up to Room 663, which turned out to be a café owned by a man named Thursday. He invited me to have a small cup of Earl Grey, and he is probably the nicest person I have ever met in my life. Thursday wore a pair of triangle-shaped glasses, and his voice sounded very familiar. He told me all about his three children and his wife, whom he had been married to, and then not married to, and then married to again, only to leave her behind on an island. It sounded complicated, and he seemed rather sad telling it.
Thursday was about to show me pictures of his three children when I was beckoned to bring a large bag of peanuts to Room 811, but I am not sure why. I wasn’t permitted to enter the room, and I heard a very loud trumpet noise from in there.
This is it, Dairy. This is where I want to live and work for the rest of my life.
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Also Not a Chapter of The Penultimate Peril.]
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Post by Dante on Dec 30, 2018 15:23:49 GMT -5
An enjoyable contrast to the previous Not A Chapter, rich with added detail; some of it a little cryptic, but I think I understand what you're getting at. It's nice to hear a little bit more about the King of Arizona, and to have your reading of the Thursday plotline ironed out. And Sunny's enthusiasm shines in the fact that she's so engaged with all of her errands. Alas, it will end too soon.
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Post by Foxy on Dec 31, 2018 10:37:40 GMT -5
Sunny probably would have been an amazing concierge.
Dear Dairy,
Violet, Klaus, and I talked about the people from our past who we had seen. We were left with all sorts of questions. “Why Nero? Why Remora? Why Bass? Why Hal?” I asked, which meant, “Why hasn’t anyone told Vice Principal Nero he is a dreadful violin player? Why does Mr. Remora go along with everything Vice Principal Nero says? Why is Mrs. Bass borrowing large amounts of money from Mr. Poe’s bank? Why is Hal here at all?” And why did I hear a crying baby on the sixth floor? And why did Thursday's cafe smell like Mommy's perfume?
Violet and Klaus kept asking questions. “Frankernest,” I said, which meant, “I have to be honest, I am not quite sure what the large bag of peanuts was for.”
I thought about that task for a while. “Elephant,” I suddenly realized, which meant, “That bag of peanuts must have been for an elephant.”
Violet and Klaus did not understand.
“Poem,” I said. “Father.” Violet and Klaus still did not understand.
“Elephant,” I insisted, but Violet and Klaus had no idea what I was trying to say.
Who wrote that poem Daddy always liked to recite? “John Godfrey Saxe,” I remembered, and then Violet and Klaus smiled.
I thought about Daddy picking me up and bouncing me in his lap while he told me the poem about the elephant. “Each was partly in the right,” I recited my favorite part, “And all were in the wrong,” Violet, Klaus, and I said together.
Violet said something about Frank. “Or Ernest,” I said, suddenly realizing the names of the hotel managers were Frank and Ernest. Why would you give your children synonymic names?
“Tired,” I yawned, which meant, “I am exhausted from all this realization I am doing.”
Once Klaus turned off the frog lamp, I decided it was time to tell ghost stories. “It’s dark,” I said, which meant, “Once upon a midnight dreary-” but Klaus got up and turned the light back on.
Klaus said the sugar bowl was being delivered. The three of us had a chat about crows delivering the sugar bowl to the laundry room. So now the crows aren’t just littering with paper – they are littering with tea set pieces! “The world is quiet here,” I finally said, which meant, “At least there are no noisy crows inside this hotel.”
Then the manager who I saw talking to Hal climbed down a rope from the domed ceiling.
“Trap,” I said, which meant, “This is the man who told me to trap the dirty laundry in the laundry room.”
Then the man started saying the poem Daddy used to say to me! “John Godfrey Saxe,” I said with a smile.
Then we tried to guess which hotel manager he was. Klaus guessed Frank, but the man said no. “Ernest?” I asked, but the manager said no again. Now we are following him out of the hotel.
What is this guy’s name? Honest? Candid? Sincere?
[This section of The Sunny Baudelaire Diaries correlates with Chapter 7 of The Penultimate Peril.]
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