Lemony Snicket - The Carnivorous Carnival

"Thank you, Count Olaf, for choosing my other head and I as the first victims in the lion show," Klaus said grandly in his high-pitched voice.

"Urn, you're welcome," Count Olaf replied, looking a bit surprised. "Now, jump into the pit so we can watch the lions devour you."

"And do it quickly!" cried the man with pimples on his chin. "I'd like my carnival visit to be worthwhile!"

"Instead of watching a freak jump into the pit," Violet said, thinking quickly, "wouldn't you rather watch someone push a freak into the pit? That would be much more violent."

"Grr!" Sunny growled, in disguised agreement.

"That's a good point," one of the white-faced women said thoughtfully.

"Oh yes!" cried the woman with dyed hair. "I want to see the two-headed freak thrown to the lions!"

"I agree," Esmé said, glaring at the two older Baudelaires and then at Madame Lulu. "I'd like to see someone thrown into the pit."

The crowd cheered and applauded, and Sunny watched as her two siblings took a step toward the plank that hung over the pit where the lions were waiting hungrily. There are tiresome people who say that if you ever find yourself in a difficult situation, you should stop and figure out the right thing to do, but the three siblings already knew that the right thing to do was to dash over to the roller-coaster carts, hook up the fan belt, and escape into the hinterlands with Madame Lulu and her archival library, after calmly explaining to the gathered crowd that bloodshed was not a proper form of entertainment and that Count Olaf and his troupe ought to be arrested that very instant. But there are times in this harum-scarum world when figuring out the right thing to do is quite simple, but doing the right thing is simply impossible, and then you must do something else. The three Baudelaires standing in their disguises in the midst of a crowd eager for violence and sloppy eating, knew that they could not do the right thing, but they thought they could try to get the crowd as frantic as possible, so that they might slip away in the confusion. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny weren't sure if using the techniques of stalling and mob psychology was the right thing to do, but the Baudelaire orphans could not think of anything else, and whether or not it was the right thing to do, their plan did seem to be working.

"This is absolutely thrilling!" exclaimed the reporter excitedly. "I can see the headline now: 'FREAKS PUSHED INTO LION PIT!' Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!"

Sunny made the loudest growl she could, and pointed one of her tiny fingers at Count Olaf.

"What Chabo is trying to convey in her half-wolf language," Klaus said, "is that Count Olaf ought to be the one to push us into the pit. After all, the lion show was his idea."

"That's true!" the pimpled man said. "Let's see Olaf throw Beverly and Elliot into the pit!"

Count Olaf scowled at the Baudelaires, and then gave the crowd a smile that showed quite a few of his filthy teeth. "I am deeply honored to be asked," he said, bowing slightly, "but I'm afraid it would not be appropriate at this time."

"Why not?" demanded the woman with dyed hair.

Count Olaf paused for a moment, and then made a short, high-pitched sound as disguised as Sunny's growl. "I'm allergic to cats," he explained. "You see? I'm sneezing already, and I'm not even on the plank."

"Your allergies didn't bother you when you were whipping the lions," Violet said.

"That's true," the hook-handed man said. "I didn't even know you had allergies, Olaf."

Count Olaf glared at his henchman. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, but the crowd didn't want to hear another one of the villain's speeches.

"Push the freak in, Olaf!" someone shouted, and everyone cheered. Count Olaf frowned, but grabbed Klaus's hand and led the two eldest Baudelaires onto the plank. But as the crowd roared around them and the lions roared beneath them, the Baudelaires could see that Count Olaf was no more eager to get any closer to the hungry lions than they were.

"Throwing people into pits isn't really my job," Count Olaf said nervously to the crowd. "I'm more of an actor."

"I have an idea," Esmé said suddenly, in a false sweet voice, "Madame Lulu, why don't you walk down that plank and throw your freak to its death?"

"This is not really my job either, please," Madame Lulu protested, looking at the children nervously. "I am fortune-teller, not freak-thrower."

"Don't be so modest, Madame Lulu," Count Olaf said with a nasty smile. "Even though the lion show was my idea, you're the most important person here at the carnival. Take my place on the plank, so we can see someone get pushed to their death."

"What a nice offer!" the reporter cried. "You're a very generous person, Count Olaf!"

"Let's see Madame Lulu throw Beverly and Elliot into the pit!" cried the pimpled man, and everyone cheered again. As mob psychology began to take hold, the crowd seemed to be as flexible as it was excited, and they gave the fortune-teller an enormous round of applause as she nervously took Count Olaf's place on the plank. The piece of wood teetered for a moment from the weight of so many people standing on it, and the older Baudelaires had to struggle to keep their balance. The crowd gasped in excitement, and then groaned as the two disguised children managed not to fall.

"This is so exciting!" squealed the reporter. "Maybe Lulu will fall in, too!"

"Yes," Esmé snarled. "Maybe she will."

"I don't care who falls in!" announced the pimpled man. Frustrated by the delay in violence and sloppy eating, he tossed his cold beverage into the pit and splashed several lions, who roared in annoyance. "To me, a woman in a turban is just as freaky as a two-headed person. I'm not prejudiced!"

"Me neither!" agreed someone who was wearing a hat with the words CALIGARI CARNIVAL printed on it. "I'm just eager for this show to finally get started! I hope Madame Lulu is brave enough to push that freak in!"

"It doesn't matter if she's brave enough," the bald man replied with a chuckle. "Everyone will do what they're expected to do. What other choice do they have?"

Violet and Klaus had reached the end of the plank, and they tried as hard as they could to think of an answer to the bald man's question.

Below them was a roaring mass of hungry lions, who had gathered so closely together below the wooden board that they just seemed to be a mass of waving claws and open mouths, and around them was a roaring crowd of people who were watching them with eager smiles on their faces. The Baudelaires had succeeded in getting the crowd more and more frantic, but they still hadn't found an opportunity to slip away in the confusion, and now it seemed like that opportunity would never knock. With difficulty, Violet turned her head to face her brother, and Klaus squinted back at her, and Sunny could see that her siblings' eyes were filled with tears.

"Our luck may have run out," she said.

"Stop whispering to your heads!" Count Olaf ordered in a terrible voice. "Madame Lulu, push them in this instant"

"We're increasing the suspense!" Klaus cried back desperately.

"The suspense has been increased enough," replied the man with the pimpled chin impatiently. "I'm getting tired of all this stalling!"

"Me, too!" cried the woman with dyed hair.

"Me, too!" cried someone else standing nearby. "Olaf, hit Lulu with the whip! That'll get her to stop stalling!"

"Just one moment, please," Madame Lulu said, and took another step toward Violet and Klaus. The plank teetered again, and the lions roared, hoping that their lunch was about to arrive. Madame Lulu looked at the elder Baudelaires frantically and the children saw her shoulders shrug slightly underneath her shimmering robe.

"Enough of this!" the hook-handed man said, and stepped forward impatiently. "I'll throw them in myself. I guess I'm the only person here brave enough to do it!"