Post by Dante on Oct 11, 2012 9:19:40 GMT -5
So it seems there's a book coming up in which 83 young people's authors have to provide alibis for the time of a murder of a notoriously loathsome editor. All proceeds benefit 826nyc, a literary charity. As such, if you're a good person you may well want to buy this, but what's immediately relevant is that Snicket's alibi is already online.
Amazon.com "Who Done It?" - WARNING: The "Book Description" spoils the ending. Great work morons!
Anyway here's Snicket's alibi. It's everything you might expect.
dailyfig.figment.com/2012/10/06/who-done-it-not-lemony-snicket/
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There is a small, musty postcard shop, just off Horacio Moya Square, in the Correspondence District of a certain city known for its unexpected violence and meatballs. If you enter the shop while Señora Pushkin is at the counter, and ask to see the collection of porcelain postcards in the locked glass case, you will instead be slipped an envelope and ushered out the door. The envelope contains a bus token.
I was lucky that the bus was not too noisy, so I heard the signal to disembark, which was the bus driver’s radioplaying “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by the Ink Spots. I’ve always liked that song.
The weather was cold and clear. The trees had white bark and low-hanging leaves, and here and there were bits of green thread leading the way. Green thread is difficult to spot in trees. As a method of marking a pathway, it’s not quite as lousy as sprinkling breadcrumbs through a forest, but it’s close. The door of the building was brick and mossy.
There were six guests in all, plus ten regular membersof the Society. The party, obviously, was by invitation only.Fried eggs were served, resting on slices of rye toast and sprinkled with tiny bits of morel mushrooms. A few guests did card tricks to kill time. The six of clubs had just been produced from the handkerchief in my pocket when the co- chair of the Society called the meeting to order by hitting a thick, rusty bell.
Obviously, the identities of all those present, and the exact nature of our discussions, must remain undisclosed until Arbor Day. Nevertheless, I offer to the authorities, as verification of my alibi, a copy of the agenda of the meeting, as well as these easily confirmable facts:
1. The Ink Spots have indeed recorded a song entitled “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire.”
2. Morel mushrooms are delicious.
3. You can’t un-ring a bell.
5:00 p.m. Arrival, Eggs
6:00 p.m. Call To Order
6:15 p.m. Introductory Dances and Slide Show
7:30 p.m. Assessment of Present Situation
8:30 p.m. Treasurer’s Report
8:45 p.m. Establishment Of Alibi In Case Anybody Is Murdered Today
9:00 p.m. Looking Towards The Future: The Society’s Plans For Revolt, Revolution, Tea Shop, etc.
9:45 p.m. Adjournment
10:00 p.m. Please Leave
10:30 p.m. Seriously, It’s Late, Get Out
If you’ve ever seen a container with an airtight lid, then you know how my alibi could best be described.
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Amazon.com "Who Done It?" - WARNING: The "Book Description" spoils the ending. Great work morons!
Anyway here's Snicket's alibi. It's everything you might expect.
dailyfig.figment.com/2012/10/06/who-done-it-not-lemony-snicket/
---
There is a small, musty postcard shop, just off Horacio Moya Square, in the Correspondence District of a certain city known for its unexpected violence and meatballs. If you enter the shop while Señora Pushkin is at the counter, and ask to see the collection of porcelain postcards in the locked glass case, you will instead be slipped an envelope and ushered out the door. The envelope contains a bus token.
I was lucky that the bus was not too noisy, so I heard the signal to disembark, which was the bus driver’s radioplaying “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by the Ink Spots. I’ve always liked that song.
The weather was cold and clear. The trees had white bark and low-hanging leaves, and here and there were bits of green thread leading the way. Green thread is difficult to spot in trees. As a method of marking a pathway, it’s not quite as lousy as sprinkling breadcrumbs through a forest, but it’s close. The door of the building was brick and mossy.
There were six guests in all, plus ten regular membersof the Society. The party, obviously, was by invitation only.Fried eggs were served, resting on slices of rye toast and sprinkled with tiny bits of morel mushrooms. A few guests did card tricks to kill time. The six of clubs had just been produced from the handkerchief in my pocket when the co- chair of the Society called the meeting to order by hitting a thick, rusty bell.
Obviously, the identities of all those present, and the exact nature of our discussions, must remain undisclosed until Arbor Day. Nevertheless, I offer to the authorities, as verification of my alibi, a copy of the agenda of the meeting, as well as these easily confirmable facts:
1. The Ink Spots have indeed recorded a song entitled “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire.”
2. Morel mushrooms are delicious.
3. You can’t un-ring a bell.
5:00 p.m. Arrival, Eggs
6:00 p.m. Call To Order
6:15 p.m. Introductory Dances and Slide Show
7:30 p.m. Assessment of Present Situation
8:30 p.m. Treasurer’s Report
8:45 p.m. Establishment Of Alibi In Case Anybody Is Murdered Today
9:00 p.m. Looking Towards The Future: The Society’s Plans For Revolt, Revolution, Tea Shop, etc.
9:45 p.m. Adjournment
10:00 p.m. Please Leave
10:30 p.m. Seriously, It’s Late, Get Out
If you’ve ever seen a container with an airtight lid, then you know how my alibi could best be described.
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