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  The Hostile Hospital

( A Serial of Unfortunate Events - eight )

Lemony Snicket

Chapter I

At that place are two reasons why a writer would end a sentence with the word "end" written entirely in capital letters Terminate. The first is if the writer were writing a telegram, which is a coded bulletin sent through an electric wire STOP. In a telegram, the word "end" in all capital letters is the lawmaking for the end of a sentence STOP. But there is another reason why a writer would cease a judgement with "finish" written entirely in upper-case letter letters, and that is to warn readers that the volume they are reading is and then utterly wretched that if they take begun reading it, the best thing to do would be to finish STOP. This particular book, for instance, describes an especially unhappy fourth dimension in the dreadful lives of Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire, and if y'all have any sense at all you will close this book immediately, drag it up a tall mountain, and throw it off the very summit End. There is no earthly reason why you lot should read even one more than word about the misfortune, treachery, and woe that are in store for the iii Baudelaire children, any more than y'all should see the street and throw yourself nether the wheels of a motorbus Finish. This "stop"-ended sentence is your very concluding chance to pretend the "Finish" warning is a finish sign, and to stop the overflowing of despair that awaits y'all in this book, the heart-stopping horror that begins in the very next sentence, by obeying the "STOP" and stopping STOP.

The Baudelaire orphans stopped. It was early in the morning, and the three children had been walking for hours across the apartment and unfamiliar mural. They were thirsty, lost, and exhausted, which are three practiced reasons to end a long walk, but they were too frightened, desperate, and non far from people who wanted to hurt them, which are three good reasons to continue. The siblings had abandoned all chat hours ago, saving every last scrap of their energy to put i foot in forepart of the other, but now they knew they had to cease, if merely for a moment, and talk about what to do next.

The children were standing in front of the Terminal Take chances General Store--the only building they had encountered since they began their long and frantic night walk. The outside of the store was covered with faded posters advertising what was sold, and by the eerie light of the half-moon, the Baudelaires could encounter that fresh limes, plastic knives, canned meat, white envelopes, mango-flavored candy, red vino, leather wallets, fashion magazines, goldfish bowls, sleeping numberless, roasted figs, paper-thin boxes, controversial vitamins, and many other things were available inside the store. Nowhere on the edifice, withal, was in that location a poster advertising help, which is really what the Baudelaires needed.

"I recall we should go inside," said Violet, taking a ribbon out of her pocket to necktie up her pilus. Violet, the eldest Baudelaire, was probably the finest fourteen-yr-old inventor in the earth, and she ever tied her hair up in a ribbon when she had to solve a problem, and right at present she was trying to invent a solution for the biggest problem she and her siblings had ever faced. "Maybe there's somebody in there who can assistance us in some mode."

"Just perhaps there's somebody in in that location who has seen our pictures in the newspaper," said Klaus, the middle Baudelaire, who had recently spent his thirteenth birthday in a filthy jail prison cell. Klaus had a real knack for remembering about every word of about all of the thousands of books he had read, and he frowned as he remembered something untrue he had recently read about himself in the newspaper. "If they read The Daily Punctilio," he continued, "perhaps they believe all those terrible things near us. Then they won't help us at all."

"Agery!" Sunny said. Sunny was a baby, and as with most babies, unlike parts of her were growing at different rates. She had only four teeth, for example, merely each of them was every bit sharp equally that of an adult king of beasts, and although she had recently learned to walk, Sunny was still getting the hang of speaking in a fashion that all adults could sympathize. Her siblings, nevertheless, knew at once that she meant "Well, we can't go on on walking forever," and the two older Baudelaires nodded in agreement.

"Sunny's right," Violet said. "It's called the Terminal Chance General Shop. That sounds like it's the only building for miles and miles. It might be our merely opportunity to become some assistance."

"And look," Klaus said, pointing to a affiche taped in a high corner of the building. "We tin send a telegram within. Maybe we tin go some assistance that way."

"Who would we transport a telegram to?" Violet asked, and once again the Baudelaires had to stop and call up. If you are like virtually people, you accept an array of friends and family you lot tin call upon in times of trouble. For instance, if you lot woke up in the middle of the nighttime and saw a masked adult female trying to crawl through your bedroom window, you might phone call your mother or male parent to aid yous push her back out. If you lot found yourself hopelessly lost in the middle of a strange city, you might enquire the law to give you a ride home. And if you were an writer locked in an Italian restaurant that was slowly filling up with h2o, y'all might call upon your acquaintances in the locksmith, pasta, and sponge businesses to come and rescue y'all. But the Baudelaire children'south trouble had begun with the news that their parents had been killed in a terrible fire, so they could not call upon their female parent or begetter. The siblings could not telephone call upon the police for assistance, because the law were amid the people who had been chasing them all night long. And they could not call upon their acquaintances, considering so many of the children's acquaintances were unable to assist them. After the expiry of the Baudelaire parents, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny had institute themselves under the care of a variety of guardians. Some of them had been cruel. Some of them had been murdered. And i of them had been Count Olaf, a greedy and treacherous villain who was the existent reason they were all by themselves in the middle of the night, continuing in front of the Last Chance General Shop, wondering who in the globe they could call upon for assist.

"Poe," Sunny said finally. She was talking nigh Mr. Poe, a broker with a nasty cough, who was in charge of taking intendance of the children following their parents' death. Mr. Poe had never been particularly helpful, but he was not savage, murdered, or Count Olaf, and those seemed to exist reasons enough to contact him.

"I guess we could endeavour Mr. Poe," Klaus agreed. "The worst he could practice would be to say no."

"Or coughing," Violet said with a small grinning. Her siblings smiled back, and the three children pushed open up the rusty door and walked inside.

"Lou, is that y'all?" called out a vocalization, but the children could not see who it belonged to. The inside of the Last Chance Full general Shop was as crowded as its outside, with every inch of space crammed full of things for sale. At that place were shelves of canned asparagus and racks of fountain pens, next to barrels of onions and crates total of peacock feathers. There were cooking utensils nailed to the walls and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the floor was made out of thousands of unlike kinds of tiles, each one stamped with a price tag. "Are you delivering the forenoon paper?" the voice asked.

"No," Violet replied, every bit the Baudelaires tried to make their way toward the person who was talking. With difficulty they stepped over a carton of true cat food and rounded a corner, only to find rows and rows of fishnets blocking their way.

"I'm not surprised, Lou," the voice continued, equally the siblings doubled back by a stack of mirrors and a pile of socks and headed down an aisle filled with pots of ivy and books of matches. "I usually don't wait The Daily Punctilio until after the Volunteers Fighting Disease go far."

The children stopped looking for the source of the vox for a moment, and looked at one another, thinking of their friends Duncan and Isadora Quagmire. Duncan and Isadora were ii triplets who, similar the Baudelaires, had lost their parents, along with their brother, Quigley, in a terrible fire. The Quagmires had fallen into Olaf'due south hands a couple of times and had only recently escaped, but the Baudelaires did not know if they due west

ould encounter their friends e'er again or learn a clandestine that the triplets had discovered and written downwards in their notebooks. The hugger-mugger concerned the initials V.F.D., merely the only other clues that the Baudelaires had were a few pages from Duncan's and Isadora's notebooks, and the three siblings had scarcely found the time to wait them over. Could Volunteers Fighting Disease finally be the respond the children were searching for?

"No, we're non Lou," Violet called out. "We're three children, and we need to send a telegram."

"A telegram?" chosen the phonation, and as the children rounded some other corner they almost ran correct into the human being who was talking to them. He was very short, shorter than both Violet and Klaus, and looked like he hadn't slept or shaved in quite a long time. He was wearing 2 dissimilar shoes, each with a price tag, and several shirts and hats at once. He was and then covered in trade that he about looked like role of the store, except for his friendly smile and muddy fingernails.

"You're certainly non Lou," he said. "Lou is one chubby human, and you are iii skinny children. What are you doing effectually hither so early on? It's dangerous around here, y'all know. I've heard that this morning'southward Daily Punctilio has a story about three murderers who are lurking effectually this very neighborhood, but I haven't read it notwithstanding."

"Newspaper stories aren't always accurate," Klaus said nervously.

The shopkeeper frowned. "Nonsense," he said. "The Daily Punctilio wouldn't print things that aren't true. If the newspaper says somebody is a murderer, then they are a murderer and that's the end of information technology. Now, you say you wanted to send a telegram?"

"Yeah," Violet said. "To Mr. Poe at Mulctuary Money Management, in the city."

"It will toll quite a fleck of coin to send a telegram all the mode to the city," the shopkeeper said, and the Baudelaires looked at i another in dismay.

"We don't have any money with us," Klaus admitted. "Nosotros're iii orphans, and the only coin we accept is being looked after by Mr. Poe. Please, sir."

"Sos!" Sunny said.

"My sister means 'Information technology'due south an emergency situation,'" Violet explained, "and it is."

The shopkeeper looked at them for a moment, and and then shrugged. "If information technology'southward really an emergency situation," he said, "so I won't charge you. I never charge annihilation for things if they're actually of import. Volunteers Fighting Affliction, for case. Whenever they stop past, I give them gasoline for free because they exercise such wonderful work."

"What exactly practice they do?" Violet asked.

"They fight affliction, of course," the shopkeeper replied. "V.F.D. terminate by here early each morning on their way to the infirmary. Every twenty-four hours they devote themselves to cheering upward patients, and I don't have the heart to charge them for anything."

"You're a very kind man," Klaus replied.

"Well, information technology's very kind of you lot to say then," the shopkeeper replied. "Now, the device for sending telegrams is over there, next to all those porcelain kittens. I'll help you."

"We can do information technology ourselves," Violet said. "I built one of those devices myself when I was seven, so I know how to connect the electronic excursion."

"And I've read two books about Morse code," Klaus said. "So I can translate our message into electronic signals."

"Aid!" Sunny said.

"What a talented group of children," the shopkeeper said with a smiling. "Well, I'll leave you iii alone. I promise that this Mr. Poe person can assist you with your emergency situation."

"Thank yous very much, sir," Violet said. "I hope so, too."

The shopkeeper gave the children a little wave and disappeared behind a display of potato peelers, and the Baudelaires looked at i another in excitement.

"Volunteers Fighting Illness?" Klaus whispered to Violet. "Practice you think we've finally found the real significant of V.F.D.?"

"Jacques!" Sunny said.

Jacques did say something nigh working as a volunteer," Klaus agreed. "If only we had a few moments to expect over the pages from the Quagmire notebooks. They're nevertheless in my pocket."

"Outset things first," Violet said. "Let's send the telegram to Mr. Poe. If Lou delivers this forenoon'southward Daily Punctilio, the shopkeeper is going to stop thinking we're a grouping of talented children and start thinking we're murderers."

"You're right," Klaus said. "After Mr. Poe gets united states out of this mess, we'll have fourth dimension to think about these other things."

"Trosslik," Sunny said. She meant something forth the lines of, "You hateful if Mr. Poe gets united states of america out of this mess," and her siblings nodded grimly and went over to take a expect at the telegram device. It was an organisation of dials, wires, and strange metal implements that I would take been too scared to even touch, merely the Baudelaires approached it with confidence.

"I'm pretty sure nosotros tin operate this," Violet said. "It looks fairly simple. Run into, Klaus, you utilise these two metallic strips to tap out the message in Morse code, and I will connect the circuit over here. Sunny, you stand hither and put on these earphones to make sure yous can hear the signal being transmitted. Permit's step to it."

The children stepped to it, a phrase which hither means "took their positions around the telegram device." Violet turned a dial, Sunny put on her earphones, and Klaus wiped the lenses of his spectacles so he could be sure to see what he was doing. The siblings nodded at 1 another, and Klaus began to speak out loud every bit he tapped out the message in lawmaking.

"To: Mr. Poe at Mulctuary Money Management," Klaus said. "From: Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire. Please practise not believe the story well-nigh us printed in The Daily Punctilio STOP. Count Olaf is non actually expressionless, and nosotros did not really murder him Finish."

"Arrete?" Sunny asked.

"'STOP' is the lawmaking for the end of a sentence," Klaus explained. "Now, what should I say next?"

Soon later our inflow in the town of 5.F.D. we were informed that Count Olaf had been captured STOP," Violet dictated. "Although the arrested man had an center tattooed on his ankle and one eyebrow instead of 2, he was not Count Olaf Cease. His proper noun was Jacques Snicket End."

"The adjacent day he was institute murdered, and Count Olaf arrived in town along with his girlfriend, Esmé Squalor End," Klaus continued, tapping away. "As office of his plan to steal the fortune our parents left behind, Count Olaf bearded himself every bit a detective and convinced the town of V.F.D. that we were the murderers Finish."

"Uckner," Sunny suggested, and Klaus translated what she said into English, and then into Morse lawmaking: "Meanwhile we discovered where the Quagmire triplets were being hidden, and helped them escape Terminate. The Quagmires managed to give us a few scraps of their notebooks so we could try to acquire the real significant of V.F.D. STOP."

"We have managed to abscond from the citizens of the town, who want to burn u.s.a. at the stake for a murder that we did not commit STOP," Violet said, and Klaus quickly tapped the sentence out into code before calculation two final sentences of his ain.

"Delight reply at once Stop. We are in grave danger STOP."

Klaus tapped out the final P in "Stop" so looked at his sisters. "We are in grave danger," he said again, although his hand did non move on the device.

"You already sent that sentence," Violet said.

"I know," Klaus said quietly. "I wasn't putting it into the telegram again. I was only proverb information technology. We are in grave danger. It's almost equally if I didn't realize how grave the danger was until I tapped it out into a telegram."

'Ilimi," Sunny said, and took off her earphones so she could lay her head on Klaus'south shoulder.

I'm scared, too," Violet admitted, patting her sis's shoulder. "But I'm sure Mr. Poe will help us. We tin't be expected to solve this problem all past ourselves."

"Just that'due south how nosotros've solved every other problem," Klaus said, "ever since the burn. Mr. Poe has never done annihilation except send us to one disastrous home after another."

"He'll help usa this time," Violet insisted, although she did non sound very sure. "Merely watch the device. He'll ship back a telegram any moment now."

"Just what if he doesn't?" Klaus asked.

"Chonex," Sunny murmured, and wriggled closer to her siblings. She meant something along the lines of "Then we're all alone,"

which is a curious affair to say when you are with your two siblings, in the middle of a store and so stuffed with merchandise y'all can hardly movement. But as they sat closely together, looking at the telegram device, it did not seem curious to the Baudelaires. They were surrounded by nylon rope, floor wax, soup bowls, window curtains, wooden rocking horses, top hats, cobweb-optic cable, pink lipstick, dried apricots, magnifying glasses, black umbrellas, slender paintbrushes, French horns, and each other, only as the Baudelaire orphans sat and waited for a reply to their telegram, they merely felt more and more lonely.

Affiliate Two

Of all the ridiculous expressions people apply-- and people use a great many ridiculous expressions--1 of the about ridiculous is "No news is practiced news." "No news is good news" simply means that if you don't hear from someone, everything is probably fine, and y'all tin can see at once why this expression makes such little sense, considering everything beingness fine is just i of many, many reasons why someone may not contact y'all. Mayhap they are tied upward. Perchance they are surrounded by tearing weasels, or perchance they are wedged tightly between two refrigerators and cannot get themselves out. The expression might well be changed to "No news is bad news," except that people may not exist able to contact you considering they take just been crowned king or are competing in a gymnastics tournament. The point is that there is no mode to know why someone has not contacted yous, until they contact you lot and explain themselves. For this reason, the sensible expression would exist "No news is no news," except that it is so obvious it is inappreciably an expression at all.

Obvious or not, however, it is the proper way to describe what happened to the Baudelaires after they sent the desperate telegram to Mr. Poe. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny sat and stared at the telegram device for hours, waiting for some sign of the banker's respond. As the 60 minutes grew later and subsequently, they took turns dozing against the merchandise of the Last Chance General Store, hoping for any response from the man who was in charge of the orphans' affairs. And as the first few rays of dawn shone through the window, illuminating all of the price tags in the store, the just news the children had received was that the shopkeeper had made some fresh cranberry muffins.

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