A Series of Unfortunate Events (2017–…): Season 2, Episode 7 - Episode #2.7 - full transcript
My name is Lemony Snicket
and I am on the lam,
a phrase which here means
"conveying this information to you while
being relentlessly pursued by the law."
Being on the lam is a disheartening
and an uncomfortable way to live,
not unlike being squeezed
into a tight, dark box...
tossed at high speed
from a moving vehicle...
and abandoned on a dusty patch of road,
tormented by doubt
and unsure of where you are going,
which, if you are on the lam,
is often the only way to travel.
Baudelaires, too,
found themselves on the lam.
Tormented by doubt
and unsure of where they were going.
Especially when their fire truck
ran out of gas deep in the Hinterlands,
a term which here means
"a desolate place unlikely
to bring their troubles to an end."
Oh.
But your own troubles
could be over this instant
if you are sensible enough
to halt this dire programming
by pressing any nearby button
marked "stop."
I beg you,
look away from this sorry tale now.
This may be your last chance.
"Last Chance General Store."
An ominous name.
It probably means
it's the only building around for miles.
I guess a last chance
is better than no chance.
Let's see what we can find.
"Out of gas"?
Out of order.
Should we go inside?
If anyone read the paper,
they'll know we're on the lam.
If we keep wandering,
we'll die of thirst and/or exposure.
And/or Count Olaf.
This store has
a telegraph machine.
Is that you, Lou?
- No.
- Be right with you.
I'm stacking day-old pastries.
We were hoping to send a telegram.
See the porcelain kittens there?
It's not that aisle.
Turn right at the brooms,
left at the fishing poles.
You look familiar.
Have I seen you kids before?
- We're child actors.
- No, that's not it.
Oh, well. It'll come to me.
That shopkeeper recognized us.
We need to hurry.
Who should we telegraph?
I was thinking Mr. Poe's office.
Mr. Poe thinks we're murderers.
His wife's the one writing those
stories about us.
Lou, is that you? Oh, sorry.
I'll be right with you, mister.
Mr. Poe might not be much help,
but his secretary might be.
You tap out the words
while I dictate.
Sunny, you listen
to make sure the message goes through.
Remember to say "stop"
after every sentence.
What do we say?
To Mulctuary Money Management. Stop.
Attention, Mr. Poe. Stop.
Stop.
Hello, hello, hello.
Sir! Sir, we need help!
Hold on. My hands are full of pastries.
Hiya, Lou.
Milt, put down those scones
and look at the headline.
"Murderous orphans
spotted in the Hinterlands."
Murderers? Oh, dear.
I know those kids.
They're in my store right now.
What do they look like?
They look like innocent children,
but they're vicious killers.
- You scared us, mister.
- Thank you.
Excuse us. We're trying to catch
some murderer kids.
So am I.
And when I was 14,
I was crowned False Spring Queen.
We had this ceremony
with my Snow Scout troupe
at the top of a mountain.
They did a dance around a pole.
It's where I discovered
my love of pole dancing.
Klaus, look.
- We don't know what it stands for.
- We can't go back in.
What choice do we have?
Then, on the way down the mountain,
we stayed in a cave
full of hibernating bears,
which, incidentally, is when I discovered
my great love of fur.
Ah, volunteers?
Hop on in.
Are you okay, mister?
They blindsided me with beads.
They also stole some snacks and a visor.
Where'd they go?
There's only one place
that road leads to.
Heimlich Hospital.
That's where the sugar bowl is.
The librarian told me.
Exactly, my pet.
Those brats are obviously after
the sugar bowl, too.
What does that mean?
We can grab them
and the sugar bowl in one fell swoop.
How, darling? You're on the lam.
Au contrary. I'm dead.
How delicious.
You're dead.
And the Baudelaires are wanted
for your murder.
Thanks to those idiots
at the Daily Punctilio,
I'm a free man.
I thought we were officially dating.
Yeah, I don't really like labels.
Follow that van!
Um...
Oh!
Hiya.
- Are you VFD?
- We certainly are.
Can you tell us
what VFD stands for?
We certainly can.
Gosh, I love that song.
So VFD stands for
Volunteers Fighting Disease?
Yes. We're on our way to fight disease
at Heimlich Hospital down the road.
You're welcome to join us,
brothers and sisters.
I called you "brother" and "sister"
because we believe that
all people are brothers and sisters.
Usually, brothers and sisters
share the same parents.
Not always, brother.
We're looking for a group called VFD,
we just don't think you're the one.
You need the Library of Records.
The Library of Records?
It's a huge room in the hospital
with files from all over the world,
containing answers to any question
you could possibly have.
Or so I've heard.
Never been in the place myself.
- This hospital does seem safe.
- I hope so.
I heard there were murderers
around these parts.
Did you read that in the newspaper?
No. We never read the newspaper.
It's too depressing.
- Our motto is...
- No news is good news.
- We're here! We're here!
- Now we get to help people...
Let's go, let's go.
I've never liked hospitals.
It's half a hospital.
No frowny faces, okay?
Being cheerful is the point
of Volunteers Fighting Disease.
What exactly will we be doing?
Mostly, we wander the halls,
singing songs
and handing out heart-shaped balloons
to each person on our list.
- Like the song says.
- How does that help fight diseases?
Hey, everyone.
Our new sister wants to know
how singing songs fights diseases.
Well, because...
Because when you're laughing, you're...
When you're laughing,
you're taking in oxygen or whatever,
and that oxygen goes, um...
A cheerful attitude is
the most effective tool against sickness.
I thought antibiotics were.
Come on, everybody!
- We have to find that Library of Records.
- Before Olaf finds us.
Baudelaires, Baudelaires.
Wherever you go,
I'm always one step behind you.
Not to be melodramatic, but if those brats
get the sugar bowl before I do,
I'm going to gouge my own eyes out
and yours and yours and yours,
and all eight of yours.
Oi.
It'll be a breeze, my sweet.
The Baudelaires and the sugar bowl
are hiding in the same hospital.
Hmm...
I think it's time for a game
of "doctors and nurses."
That game makes me uncomfortable.
Hmm...
Man with beard, check.
Other volunteers, check.
Here's today's patient list,
which, as you know,
is a complete list of patients
at Heimlich.
- Thanks, sister.
- My name is Babs.
How will we find
the Library of Records?
Oh.
- How are we gonna get inside?
- I'll talk our way in.
Sunny's right.
Everyone's read the Daily Punctilio.
We're bound to be recognized.
Is someone there?
My eyesight isn't what it used to be,
but you appear to be children.
Maybe not everyone. We're volunteers.
Ooh, well,
you have come to the right place.
My name is Hal and I have been working
here at the Library of Records
for more years than I'd care to count.
Someone should count for me
before my eyesight completely goes.
Did Babs send you?
- We're happy to be of assistance.
- Excellent.
Then come right in
and I'll explain everything.
Leave the talking to me.
We can both talk.
We're a team of big-deal, snazzy doctors.
You're a nurse. Plus, no one'll believe
you went to medical school.
I could have gone to medical school.
I love cadavers.
You got your master's in theater
and you picked the wrong costume.
They'll believe
you went to medical school?
Medical school?
Dr. Medical School.
Hello, I'm Dr. Mattathias Medical School,
and these are my nurses, interns
or whatever.
- Hello.
- Dr. Medical School, you say?
I don't have you on my list.
Goodness. Oh, dear.
Oh, goodness me.
What's wrong with this one?
I have lists for visitors and staff
on my very important clipboard.
If you're not on the list,
you can't come in.
- Sounds like a paperwork mistake.
- Oh...
A paperwork mistake?
Yeah. Okay. Yes.
That does make sense. Okay.
Of course it is.
Here's my medical ID pass badge.
Yes. Yes, that seems credible.
Well, with the hospital
only half-finished,
we have to be vigilant
about keeping out intruders
like raccoons or murderers.
I completely understand. I'm a doctor.
Well, I guess it's okay to say,
"Welcome to Heimlich Hospital."
I'm Babs, head of human resources
and hospital administration.
I'm also head of party planning, so...
Nice to meet you, Babs.
I'm Dr. Thing That I Said Before.
See you around the operating theater.
You can't go yet.
You'll need to sign and initial this form
in triplicate...
- and the next 15 in quadruplicate.
- Quadru...
How about I don't sign them
and you let me wander around anyway?
Well, then I'd need
to call the authorities on you, mister.
Of course.
Paperwork makes the world go round.
I thought money did that.
Oh!
You.
Paperwork is the cornerstone of
what we do here at Heimlich Hospital.
- Not diagnosing?
- Or alleviating pain?
You couldn't do those things
without first typing the details
on specialized forms,
which must be on clipboards
until it's time to file them
in special folders.
Here is where the paperwork comes
to live forever
and thus is the hospital's beating heart.
I wouldn't show this to just anyone,
but you look like people
I feel I can trust.
- Well, it's very impressive.
- Thank you.
I organized everything myself.
Now, not only does Heimlich Hospital
store their information here,
but people send me files
from all over the world.
Why send it to a hospital?
There's no safer place to store
information than at Heimlich Hospital.
Why, you can find information
on everything
from picture frames to pills,
puddings to pyramids,
and that's just the "P" aisle.
Think of everything we could learn
from these files.
No, no, no.
We file information, not read it.
I don't wanna see you touching a file
unless you're putting it away.
The information we hold here
is of the utmost importance.
That's why I keep these cabinets
locked with my special keys.
"Library of Records."
I bet those brats are hiding there,
with their dumb noses in books.
They're drawn to libraries
like a cat to catnip
or a hobo to a dying possum.
- Then the sugar bowl might be there too.
- We...
It's very, very, very important to me.
Yes, dear. I know.
You've mentioned it several times.
Beatrice stole it from me.
I won't rest until it's stolen back.
And if I don't get my hands
on the sugar bowl...
I don't know what I'll do.
- She's beautiful.
- And terrifying.
This chute is where files go out,
but you won't use it much.
Once paperwork comes into the library,
it rarely goes out.
It hasn't been used in years.
It's probably full of spiders.
Now, most of your work will involve
that chute over there,
where the files come in.
You may glance at the file,
but remember to read
as little information as possible.
For instance...
I can tell you this file
has something to do with
weather last week at Damocles Dock,
on the shore of a lake somewhere.
So, I would unlock the cabinet for
"D," "Damocles," or "W," "weather,"
or "L," "last week."
Wouldn't it be difficult for people
to find the information?
They wouldn't know whether to look
in "D," "W" or "L."
They'd have to look in all three.
The Library of Records has very strict
rules against checking out files.
I'd like to check out a child.
I mean "file."
And you are?
Dr. Mattathias Medical School,
at your service.
- Do you have credentials?
- Here's my medical ID pass badge.
I'm doing important research on botulism
and I would like to consult some folders.
What sub-department are you with?
Did I say "botulism"?
I meant annoying little pimples.
That sounds like a bona fide request.
- A "bony" what?
- "Fide."
I'd be more than happy
to show you our files.
You would?
File an application for folder clearance
to the hospital administration
and wait seven to ten business days
for approval.
- Oh, really?
- Yes, really. Now, goodbye.
He's obviously hiding them.
He could barely look me in the eyes.
Maybe he has poor eyesight.
Their filthy hands
are all over my sugar bowl.
- What are we going to do?
- Plan number B.
"Dr. Medical School." I've never heard
of anything so preposterous.
Neither have we.
Did you see his badge?
It looked hand-laminated.
Listen, children.
The Library of Records
must be protected at all costs.
We cannot allow anyone unsavory
near our precious files.
Do you understand? Of course you do.
You're just like me.
I never liked wandering down the halls
singing about diseases.
That's why I wound up here,
happy with my files, my paperwork.
And you're just the same, aren't you?
No wonder I trust you completely.
I'm going to file you under "M..."
for "my friends."
There's nothing like the sound
of a file coming down that chute.
- It looks like a film.
- Yes, a lot of our files are films.
We have projectors along the south wall
for anyone who wants to view them,
but no one does
because no one's allowed.
Could you excuse me?
There're very specific instructions about
where to file anything labeled "Snicket."
Wait here.
Snicket, as in Jacques Snicket.
- The man who was trying to help us.
- Who Count Olaf murdered.
- Hal.
- Yes?
We need to look at a file.
Our job is to file files,
not examine them.
- This particular file is very important.
- It's a matter of life and death.
Life and death? That does sound important.
But rules are important too.
I'm sorry, children.
Attention.
This is Babs,
head of human resources,
hospital administration
and the party planning committee.
Due to budget cuts,
the cafeteria will be closing
in nine minutes,
the gift shop in three minutes
and the Library of Records
right this very second.
Looks like you can't see that file
after all.
Ahh!
Oh! You scared us.
I was practicing.
Everyone, it's showtime.
Take your positions at the X-ray Alcove
in Colon Corridor.
That will force her
into the Leprosy Elevator Bank.
Places, people, places!
It's great you haven't given up
on theater.
- Even though you can't audition...
- Seeing that you're dead.
I said places!
Tonight's production of Let's Scare Babs
to Death is about to begin.
What am I supposed to do
with this?
How odd and oddly frightening.
Hmm.
Oh, my.
Good night, guys.
Hello? Who's there?
Hello, Babs. Come and play with us.
Excuse me.
I just need to go the other way.
I forgot my paperwork.
Get a hold of yourself.
You're head of human resources
and hospital administration,
for goodness' sake.
And also party planning.
Thunder, go.
Lightning, go.
More thunder.
Oh, that's my cue.
Oh! Dr. Medical School, it's you.
Please, Babs.
Dr. Medical School was my mother.
Call me Mattathias.
Yes, Mattathias.
Are you quite all right, Babs?
Sorry,
I'm afraid I gave myself a bit of a scare.
Yes, well, hospitals can be scary places,
can't they?
We've got to find a way
to see the Snicket file.
We'll try Hal again in the morning.
At least this place has beds
we can sleep in tonight.
This is Babs,
head of human resources,
hospital administration
and the party planning committee.
I'd just like to announce my unexpected,
super early retirement.
My replacement will begin immediately.
I'll take these, thank you.
You'll never get away with this.
The paperwork alone
is beyond your abilities.
Thank you, Babs.
You certainly appreciate
all my hard work over these years.
Greetings, Heimlich Hospital.
This is Dr. Mattathias Medical School
with an emergency news bulletin.
Some murderers have been spotted
in the hospital,
so we will be conducting a thorough check
of each and every bed
until they've been caught.
After all, no one wants to be murdered
to death in their sleep.
Good night and sweet dreams.
He's taking over the hospital.
We'll find somewhere in the hospital
they won't look.
Can they still hear me?
Is there a button...
Oh, here's the button.
The unfinished wing.
If there are no walls,
there can't be any security cameras.
- Find those orphans.
- Find the sugar bowl.
- We'd better split up.
- Uh-huh.
Come on, orphans, where are you?
This way's clear.
This hospital gives me the creeps.
I don't care if it's dark
and scary. You are not coming back here
until you've searched each and every ward
from acne to zinc deficiency.
And stop waving into the camera.
Baudelaires.
Baudelaires.
Baudelaires.
Oh, Baudelaires.
Baudelaires.
I hate boring television.
I see movement.
Turn left.
Your other left. Your other, other left.
- You didn't find anything?
- No, and I looked really hard.
No vending machine
in this hospital has parsley soda.
They did have this hot brown stuff.
It burns my insides,
but I've had three cupsful.
It makes me feel alive.
You should be looking for the orphans.
I'm not one of your hench-people.
You don't pay me, so you can't yell at me.
Actually, I don't pay them either.
I would like to find the sugar bowl
and get out of here.
The smell of hospitals depresses me.
We're not leaving
until we find the Baudelaires.
- Careful.
- Good thing we're at a hospital.
Watch your step, Sunny.
Will this be the worst place
we've ever slept?
At this point, it's hard to say.
I did all the heavy lifting in Crow Town,
I caught Babs,
I'm the one who looks great in a hat,
so I'm going to retrieve
that sugar bowl
while you stand around
staring at hallways.
If you think you can do any better,
then be my guest.
Fine. I'll just slip into something
more frightening
and I'll have that sugar bowl.
That's easier said than done.
You haven't seen my outfit.
Move it, losers.
I liked it so much better
before Yoko showed up.
Just about everything in this world
is easier said than done,
with the exception of
"assisting Sisyphus's
cyst-susceptible sister,"
which is easier done than said.
Finding a safe place
is easier said than done.
That's exactly
what the Baudelaires managed to do.
Still, they knew by now
that safety is only temporary.
We can't stay here all night.
Olaf is looking for us.
We can't keep wandering
hoping things will get better.
We're part of a mystery.
We'll never be free till we figure it out.
Did you find anything
in Duncan and Isadora's notes?
Just codes and poems.
The damage from the harpoon gun
made them hard to decipher.
We need to see that file.
How can we get it?
We can't. Hal trusts us.
And I studied the locks.
They'd be difficult to pick
without equipment.
We could steal his keys.
Our parents would be disappointed.
They'd know we were doing
what's necessary.
Or they'd think we were criminals.
Like the newspaper says.
It's a moral dilemma.
Attention.
This is Dr. Mattathias Medical School.
Bed searches will continue
until the murderers have been found.
Also, if anyone in the hospital
has any valuables of any kind...
Please bring them to
the human resources office immediately.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.
What nonsense.
Murderers don't sleep at night.
They're wracked with guilt.
Hal! Please be careful.
Don't worry about me, child.
I have the balance of a blind cat.
I can see that.
I made you children some chicken soup
from an old family recipe.
- Just the thing for a night like this.
- That's very kind of you.
Let me take that.
How did you know we were here?
You're just like me.
I used to love to sleep under the stars
when I was a boy.
We put up tents in our backyard.
Mother and Father would help us
make s'mores over an open fire.
Where are your parents now?
They're dead.
I'm sorry, children.
I know how dark and lonely
the world must feel.
But you can always
find a kind person
who's willing to shine a light on you
when you need it.
Eventually, you'll learn
to shine a light on others in need.
This is not a show about me.
But if it were, instead of telling you
how the Baudelaires
were about to have an incident
in the library
that gives me the heebie-jeebies
when I think of it at night,
I might pause and tell you
about something I did
many years ago that still troubles me.
It was necessary, but not nice
and even now, I get a pang of guilt.
This doesn't feel right.
Even now, I ask myself,
"Was it really necessary?"
Was it absolutely necessary
to steal that sugar bowl
from Esmé Squalor?
What choice do we have?
The Baudelaires were experiencing
similar pangs that evening
as they were about to double-cross a man
who almost certainly didn't deserve it.
What? Who? Yes, I may have
slipped off there for a sec.
I suggest we all get some sleep.
Paperwork awaits us in the morning.
Wait, where are my keys?
Here. I'll put them in your pocket.
So happy I found
trustworthy and loyal assistants.
Never in my life did I think
I would trust anyone
as much as I trust you three.
Good night, children.
I shall file you under "P,"
for "people I trust most in this world."
- Good night, Hal.
- Good night, Hal.
- I feel terrible about this.
- One day, we'll apologize and explain.
Yeah.
But until then?
We better hurry.
Olaf could be watching right now.
Hal had specific instructions about where
to file something labeled "Snicket."
We'll start with "S."
"Secretary to sediment."
"Shed to sheepshank."
"Shellac to sherbet."
"Sludge to smoke."
"Snack to snifter."
That's the one.
No Snicket.
It's worth a try.
"Hackneyed to Haystack."
"Index to Irony."
"Jabberwocky to Jazzercize."
That's the one.
Nothing.
I'm tired of not understanding
what's going on.
- Missing files.
- Mysterious guardians.
That tunnel that led to our house.
Do you think that could be it?
We may not know what it stands for,
but it's important.
How's your brother?
Dead or on the lam.
Either way, he doesn't mind.
- Jacques.
- I never thought we'd see him again.
- Are we rolling?
- We're rolling.
This is the debriefing of Jacques Snicket.
Mr. Snicket, I need you to lay out,
in excruciating detail,
what you know about Olaf,
this rash of fires,
and anything we need to know
about the orphans.
I should start at the beginning.
But before I do,
I have an important update.
There may have been
a survivor of the fire.
Did he say...
- Did you say...
- That's right.
One of our parents could still be alive.
I'm wild about movies.
Now, who wants popcorn?
Go!
Dang these stiletto heels!
- We've gotta get out of here.
- Not without that film.
Then we have to get it.
I'm filing you under "S"
for "smashed flat!"
You and Sunny head for the door.
I'll get the film and catch up.
Peek-a-boo, I see you.
These shoes!
The door's blocked. There's no way out.
But you don't have to hide from me,
children.
Maybe we can help each other.
You see, I'm looking for something.
Small, round...
Full of secrets.
Jacques Snicket thought
he could hide it from me.
But now he's dead.
We can make it to the mail chute.
And I want it!
I was thinking the same.
- Did you get it?
- I got it.
Look out!
- Violet?
- I'm okay.
Esmé wants this. We can't let her have it.
- I'll find you.
- I knew you had it!
You're all alone, Violet.
How does it feel?
The hardest part of life on the lam
is to keep moving,
often in a direction
that seems wrong, dangerous
or an agonizing combination of both.
Sometimes, as in this moment
in the life of Violet,
there simply isn't
any other choice to make,
even if you end up regretting your actions
for the rest of your life,
however short that may be.
Give it to me!
I will let you go. I promise!
You're a terrible actress.
Come to Mother.
Hello, hello, hello.
Isn't it wonderful when we work together?
and I am on the lam,
a phrase which here means
"conveying this information to you while
being relentlessly pursued by the law."
Being on the lam is a disheartening
and an uncomfortable way to live,
not unlike being squeezed
into a tight, dark box...
tossed at high speed
from a moving vehicle...
and abandoned on a dusty patch of road,
tormented by doubt
and unsure of where you are going,
which, if you are on the lam,
is often the only way to travel.
Baudelaires, too,
found themselves on the lam.
Tormented by doubt
and unsure of where they were going.
Especially when their fire truck
ran out of gas deep in the Hinterlands,
a term which here means
"a desolate place unlikely
to bring their troubles to an end."
Oh.
But your own troubles
could be over this instant
if you are sensible enough
to halt this dire programming
by pressing any nearby button
marked "stop."
I beg you,
look away from this sorry tale now.
This may be your last chance.
"Last Chance General Store."
An ominous name.
It probably means
it's the only building around for miles.
I guess a last chance
is better than no chance.
Let's see what we can find.
"Out of gas"?
Out of order.
Should we go inside?
If anyone read the paper,
they'll know we're on the lam.
If we keep wandering,
we'll die of thirst and/or exposure.
And/or Count Olaf.
This store has
a telegraph machine.
Is that you, Lou?
- No.
- Be right with you.
I'm stacking day-old pastries.
We were hoping to send a telegram.
See the porcelain kittens there?
It's not that aisle.
Turn right at the brooms,
left at the fishing poles.
You look familiar.
Have I seen you kids before?
- We're child actors.
- No, that's not it.
Oh, well. It'll come to me.
That shopkeeper recognized us.
We need to hurry.
Who should we telegraph?
I was thinking Mr. Poe's office.
Mr. Poe thinks we're murderers.
His wife's the one writing those
stories about us.
Lou, is that you? Oh, sorry.
I'll be right with you, mister.
Mr. Poe might not be much help,
but his secretary might be.
You tap out the words
while I dictate.
Sunny, you listen
to make sure the message goes through.
Remember to say "stop"
after every sentence.
What do we say?
To Mulctuary Money Management. Stop.
Attention, Mr. Poe. Stop.
Stop.
Hello, hello, hello.
Sir! Sir, we need help!
Hold on. My hands are full of pastries.
Hiya, Lou.
Milt, put down those scones
and look at the headline.
"Murderous orphans
spotted in the Hinterlands."
Murderers? Oh, dear.
I know those kids.
They're in my store right now.
What do they look like?
They look like innocent children,
but they're vicious killers.
- You scared us, mister.
- Thank you.
Excuse us. We're trying to catch
some murderer kids.
So am I.
And when I was 14,
I was crowned False Spring Queen.
We had this ceremony
with my Snow Scout troupe
at the top of a mountain.
They did a dance around a pole.
It's where I discovered
my love of pole dancing.
Klaus, look.
- We don't know what it stands for.
- We can't go back in.
What choice do we have?
Then, on the way down the mountain,
we stayed in a cave
full of hibernating bears,
which, incidentally, is when I discovered
my great love of fur.
Ah, volunteers?
Hop on in.
Are you okay, mister?
They blindsided me with beads.
They also stole some snacks and a visor.
Where'd they go?
There's only one place
that road leads to.
Heimlich Hospital.
That's where the sugar bowl is.
The librarian told me.
Exactly, my pet.
Those brats are obviously after
the sugar bowl, too.
What does that mean?
We can grab them
and the sugar bowl in one fell swoop.
How, darling? You're on the lam.
Au contrary. I'm dead.
How delicious.
You're dead.
And the Baudelaires are wanted
for your murder.
Thanks to those idiots
at the Daily Punctilio,
I'm a free man.
I thought we were officially dating.
Yeah, I don't really like labels.
Follow that van!
Um...
Oh!
Hiya.
- Are you VFD?
- We certainly are.
Can you tell us
what VFD stands for?
We certainly can.
Gosh, I love that song.
So VFD stands for
Volunteers Fighting Disease?
Yes. We're on our way to fight disease
at Heimlich Hospital down the road.
You're welcome to join us,
brothers and sisters.
I called you "brother" and "sister"
because we believe that
all people are brothers and sisters.
Usually, brothers and sisters
share the same parents.
Not always, brother.
We're looking for a group called VFD,
we just don't think you're the one.
You need the Library of Records.
The Library of Records?
It's a huge room in the hospital
with files from all over the world,
containing answers to any question
you could possibly have.
Or so I've heard.
Never been in the place myself.
- This hospital does seem safe.
- I hope so.
I heard there were murderers
around these parts.
Did you read that in the newspaper?
No. We never read the newspaper.
It's too depressing.
- Our motto is...
- No news is good news.
- We're here! We're here!
- Now we get to help people...
Let's go, let's go.
I've never liked hospitals.
It's half a hospital.
No frowny faces, okay?
Being cheerful is the point
of Volunteers Fighting Disease.
What exactly will we be doing?
Mostly, we wander the halls,
singing songs
and handing out heart-shaped balloons
to each person on our list.
- Like the song says.
- How does that help fight diseases?
Hey, everyone.
Our new sister wants to know
how singing songs fights diseases.
Well, because...
Because when you're laughing, you're...
When you're laughing,
you're taking in oxygen or whatever,
and that oxygen goes, um...
A cheerful attitude is
the most effective tool against sickness.
I thought antibiotics were.
Come on, everybody!
- We have to find that Library of Records.
- Before Olaf finds us.
Baudelaires, Baudelaires.
Wherever you go,
I'm always one step behind you.
Not to be melodramatic, but if those brats
get the sugar bowl before I do,
I'm going to gouge my own eyes out
and yours and yours and yours,
and all eight of yours.
Oi.
It'll be a breeze, my sweet.
The Baudelaires and the sugar bowl
are hiding in the same hospital.
Hmm...
I think it's time for a game
of "doctors and nurses."
That game makes me uncomfortable.
Hmm...
Man with beard, check.
Other volunteers, check.
Here's today's patient list,
which, as you know,
is a complete list of patients
at Heimlich.
- Thanks, sister.
- My name is Babs.
How will we find
the Library of Records?
Oh.
- How are we gonna get inside?
- I'll talk our way in.
Sunny's right.
Everyone's read the Daily Punctilio.
We're bound to be recognized.
Is someone there?
My eyesight isn't what it used to be,
but you appear to be children.
Maybe not everyone. We're volunteers.
Ooh, well,
you have come to the right place.
My name is Hal and I have been working
here at the Library of Records
for more years than I'd care to count.
Someone should count for me
before my eyesight completely goes.
Did Babs send you?
- We're happy to be of assistance.
- Excellent.
Then come right in
and I'll explain everything.
Leave the talking to me.
We can both talk.
We're a team of big-deal, snazzy doctors.
You're a nurse. Plus, no one'll believe
you went to medical school.
I could have gone to medical school.
I love cadavers.
You got your master's in theater
and you picked the wrong costume.
They'll believe
you went to medical school?
Medical school?
Dr. Medical School.
Hello, I'm Dr. Mattathias Medical School,
and these are my nurses, interns
or whatever.
- Hello.
- Dr. Medical School, you say?
I don't have you on my list.
Goodness. Oh, dear.
Oh, goodness me.
What's wrong with this one?
I have lists for visitors and staff
on my very important clipboard.
If you're not on the list,
you can't come in.
- Sounds like a paperwork mistake.
- Oh...
A paperwork mistake?
Yeah. Okay. Yes.
That does make sense. Okay.
Of course it is.
Here's my medical ID pass badge.
Yes. Yes, that seems credible.
Well, with the hospital
only half-finished,
we have to be vigilant
about keeping out intruders
like raccoons or murderers.
I completely understand. I'm a doctor.
Well, I guess it's okay to say,
"Welcome to Heimlich Hospital."
I'm Babs, head of human resources
and hospital administration.
I'm also head of party planning, so...
Nice to meet you, Babs.
I'm Dr. Thing That I Said Before.
See you around the operating theater.
You can't go yet.
You'll need to sign and initial this form
in triplicate...
- and the next 15 in quadruplicate.
- Quadru...
How about I don't sign them
and you let me wander around anyway?
Well, then I'd need
to call the authorities on you, mister.
Of course.
Paperwork makes the world go round.
I thought money did that.
Oh!
You.
Paperwork is the cornerstone of
what we do here at Heimlich Hospital.
- Not diagnosing?
- Or alleviating pain?
You couldn't do those things
without first typing the details
on specialized forms,
which must be on clipboards
until it's time to file them
in special folders.
Here is where the paperwork comes
to live forever
and thus is the hospital's beating heart.
I wouldn't show this to just anyone,
but you look like people
I feel I can trust.
- Well, it's very impressive.
- Thank you.
I organized everything myself.
Now, not only does Heimlich Hospital
store their information here,
but people send me files
from all over the world.
Why send it to a hospital?
There's no safer place to store
information than at Heimlich Hospital.
Why, you can find information
on everything
from picture frames to pills,
puddings to pyramids,
and that's just the "P" aisle.
Think of everything we could learn
from these files.
No, no, no.
We file information, not read it.
I don't wanna see you touching a file
unless you're putting it away.
The information we hold here
is of the utmost importance.
That's why I keep these cabinets
locked with my special keys.
"Library of Records."
I bet those brats are hiding there,
with their dumb noses in books.
They're drawn to libraries
like a cat to catnip
or a hobo to a dying possum.
- Then the sugar bowl might be there too.
- We...
It's very, very, very important to me.
Yes, dear. I know.
You've mentioned it several times.
Beatrice stole it from me.
I won't rest until it's stolen back.
And if I don't get my hands
on the sugar bowl...
I don't know what I'll do.
- She's beautiful.
- And terrifying.
This chute is where files go out,
but you won't use it much.
Once paperwork comes into the library,
it rarely goes out.
It hasn't been used in years.
It's probably full of spiders.
Now, most of your work will involve
that chute over there,
where the files come in.
You may glance at the file,
but remember to read
as little information as possible.
For instance...
I can tell you this file
has something to do with
weather last week at Damocles Dock,
on the shore of a lake somewhere.
So, I would unlock the cabinet for
"D," "Damocles," or "W," "weather,"
or "L," "last week."
Wouldn't it be difficult for people
to find the information?
They wouldn't know whether to look
in "D," "W" or "L."
They'd have to look in all three.
The Library of Records has very strict
rules against checking out files.
I'd like to check out a child.
I mean "file."
And you are?
Dr. Mattathias Medical School,
at your service.
- Do you have credentials?
- Here's my medical ID pass badge.
I'm doing important research on botulism
and I would like to consult some folders.
What sub-department are you with?
Did I say "botulism"?
I meant annoying little pimples.
That sounds like a bona fide request.
- A "bony" what?
- "Fide."
I'd be more than happy
to show you our files.
You would?
File an application for folder clearance
to the hospital administration
and wait seven to ten business days
for approval.
- Oh, really?
- Yes, really. Now, goodbye.
He's obviously hiding them.
He could barely look me in the eyes.
Maybe he has poor eyesight.
Their filthy hands
are all over my sugar bowl.
- What are we going to do?
- Plan number B.
"Dr. Medical School." I've never heard
of anything so preposterous.
Neither have we.
Did you see his badge?
It looked hand-laminated.
Listen, children.
The Library of Records
must be protected at all costs.
We cannot allow anyone unsavory
near our precious files.
Do you understand? Of course you do.
You're just like me.
I never liked wandering down the halls
singing about diseases.
That's why I wound up here,
happy with my files, my paperwork.
And you're just the same, aren't you?
No wonder I trust you completely.
I'm going to file you under "M..."
for "my friends."
There's nothing like the sound
of a file coming down that chute.
- It looks like a film.
- Yes, a lot of our files are films.
We have projectors along the south wall
for anyone who wants to view them,
but no one does
because no one's allowed.
Could you excuse me?
There're very specific instructions about
where to file anything labeled "Snicket."
Wait here.
Snicket, as in Jacques Snicket.
- The man who was trying to help us.
- Who Count Olaf murdered.
- Hal.
- Yes?
We need to look at a file.
Our job is to file files,
not examine them.
- This particular file is very important.
- It's a matter of life and death.
Life and death? That does sound important.
But rules are important too.
I'm sorry, children.
Attention.
This is Babs,
head of human resources,
hospital administration
and the party planning committee.
Due to budget cuts,
the cafeteria will be closing
in nine minutes,
the gift shop in three minutes
and the Library of Records
right this very second.
Looks like you can't see that file
after all.
Ahh!
Oh! You scared us.
I was practicing.
Everyone, it's showtime.
Take your positions at the X-ray Alcove
in Colon Corridor.
That will force her
into the Leprosy Elevator Bank.
Places, people, places!
It's great you haven't given up
on theater.
- Even though you can't audition...
- Seeing that you're dead.
I said places!
Tonight's production of Let's Scare Babs
to Death is about to begin.
What am I supposed to do
with this?
How odd and oddly frightening.
Hmm.
Oh, my.
Good night, guys.
Hello? Who's there?
Hello, Babs. Come and play with us.
Excuse me.
I just need to go the other way.
I forgot my paperwork.
Get a hold of yourself.
You're head of human resources
and hospital administration,
for goodness' sake.
And also party planning.
Thunder, go.
Lightning, go.
More thunder.
Oh, that's my cue.
Oh! Dr. Medical School, it's you.
Please, Babs.
Dr. Medical School was my mother.
Call me Mattathias.
Yes, Mattathias.
Are you quite all right, Babs?
Sorry,
I'm afraid I gave myself a bit of a scare.
Yes, well, hospitals can be scary places,
can't they?
We've got to find a way
to see the Snicket file.
We'll try Hal again in the morning.
At least this place has beds
we can sleep in tonight.
This is Babs,
head of human resources,
hospital administration
and the party planning committee.
I'd just like to announce my unexpected,
super early retirement.
My replacement will begin immediately.
I'll take these, thank you.
You'll never get away with this.
The paperwork alone
is beyond your abilities.
Thank you, Babs.
You certainly appreciate
all my hard work over these years.
Greetings, Heimlich Hospital.
This is Dr. Mattathias Medical School
with an emergency news bulletin.
Some murderers have been spotted
in the hospital,
so we will be conducting a thorough check
of each and every bed
until they've been caught.
After all, no one wants to be murdered
to death in their sleep.
Good night and sweet dreams.
He's taking over the hospital.
We'll find somewhere in the hospital
they won't look.
Can they still hear me?
Is there a button...
Oh, here's the button.
The unfinished wing.
If there are no walls,
there can't be any security cameras.
- Find those orphans.
- Find the sugar bowl.
- We'd better split up.
- Uh-huh.
Come on, orphans, where are you?
This way's clear.
This hospital gives me the creeps.
I don't care if it's dark
and scary. You are not coming back here
until you've searched each and every ward
from acne to zinc deficiency.
And stop waving into the camera.
Baudelaires.
Baudelaires.
Baudelaires.
Oh, Baudelaires.
Baudelaires.
I hate boring television.
I see movement.
Turn left.
Your other left. Your other, other left.
- You didn't find anything?
- No, and I looked really hard.
No vending machine
in this hospital has parsley soda.
They did have this hot brown stuff.
It burns my insides,
but I've had three cupsful.
It makes me feel alive.
You should be looking for the orphans.
I'm not one of your hench-people.
You don't pay me, so you can't yell at me.
Actually, I don't pay them either.
I would like to find the sugar bowl
and get out of here.
The smell of hospitals depresses me.
We're not leaving
until we find the Baudelaires.
- Careful.
- Good thing we're at a hospital.
Watch your step, Sunny.
Will this be the worst place
we've ever slept?
At this point, it's hard to say.
I did all the heavy lifting in Crow Town,
I caught Babs,
I'm the one who looks great in a hat,
so I'm going to retrieve
that sugar bowl
while you stand around
staring at hallways.
If you think you can do any better,
then be my guest.
Fine. I'll just slip into something
more frightening
and I'll have that sugar bowl.
That's easier said than done.
You haven't seen my outfit.
Move it, losers.
I liked it so much better
before Yoko showed up.
Just about everything in this world
is easier said than done,
with the exception of
"assisting Sisyphus's
cyst-susceptible sister,"
which is easier done than said.
Finding a safe place
is easier said than done.
That's exactly
what the Baudelaires managed to do.
Still, they knew by now
that safety is only temporary.
We can't stay here all night.
Olaf is looking for us.
We can't keep wandering
hoping things will get better.
We're part of a mystery.
We'll never be free till we figure it out.
Did you find anything
in Duncan and Isadora's notes?
Just codes and poems.
The damage from the harpoon gun
made them hard to decipher.
We need to see that file.
How can we get it?
We can't. Hal trusts us.
And I studied the locks.
They'd be difficult to pick
without equipment.
We could steal his keys.
Our parents would be disappointed.
They'd know we were doing
what's necessary.
Or they'd think we were criminals.
Like the newspaper says.
It's a moral dilemma.
Attention.
This is Dr. Mattathias Medical School.
Bed searches will continue
until the murderers have been found.
Also, if anyone in the hospital
has any valuables of any kind...
Please bring them to
the human resources office immediately.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.
What nonsense.
Murderers don't sleep at night.
They're wracked with guilt.
Hal! Please be careful.
Don't worry about me, child.
I have the balance of a blind cat.
I can see that.
I made you children some chicken soup
from an old family recipe.
- Just the thing for a night like this.
- That's very kind of you.
Let me take that.
How did you know we were here?
You're just like me.
I used to love to sleep under the stars
when I was a boy.
We put up tents in our backyard.
Mother and Father would help us
make s'mores over an open fire.
Where are your parents now?
They're dead.
I'm sorry, children.
I know how dark and lonely
the world must feel.
But you can always
find a kind person
who's willing to shine a light on you
when you need it.
Eventually, you'll learn
to shine a light on others in need.
This is not a show about me.
But if it were, instead of telling you
how the Baudelaires
were about to have an incident
in the library
that gives me the heebie-jeebies
when I think of it at night,
I might pause and tell you
about something I did
many years ago that still troubles me.
It was necessary, but not nice
and even now, I get a pang of guilt.
This doesn't feel right.
Even now, I ask myself,
"Was it really necessary?"
Was it absolutely necessary
to steal that sugar bowl
from Esmé Squalor?
What choice do we have?
The Baudelaires were experiencing
similar pangs that evening
as they were about to double-cross a man
who almost certainly didn't deserve it.
What? Who? Yes, I may have
slipped off there for a sec.
I suggest we all get some sleep.
Paperwork awaits us in the morning.
Wait, where are my keys?
Here. I'll put them in your pocket.
So happy I found
trustworthy and loyal assistants.
Never in my life did I think
I would trust anyone
as much as I trust you three.
Good night, children.
I shall file you under "P,"
for "people I trust most in this world."
- Good night, Hal.
- Good night, Hal.
- I feel terrible about this.
- One day, we'll apologize and explain.
Yeah.
But until then?
We better hurry.
Olaf could be watching right now.
Hal had specific instructions about where
to file something labeled "Snicket."
We'll start with "S."
"Secretary to sediment."
"Shed to sheepshank."
"Shellac to sherbet."
"Sludge to smoke."
"Snack to snifter."
That's the one.
No Snicket.
It's worth a try.
"Hackneyed to Haystack."
"Index to Irony."
"Jabberwocky to Jazzercize."
That's the one.
Nothing.
I'm tired of not understanding
what's going on.
- Missing files.
- Mysterious guardians.
That tunnel that led to our house.
Do you think that could be it?
We may not know what it stands for,
but it's important.
How's your brother?
Dead or on the lam.
Either way, he doesn't mind.
- Jacques.
- I never thought we'd see him again.
- Are we rolling?
- We're rolling.
This is the debriefing of Jacques Snicket.
Mr. Snicket, I need you to lay out,
in excruciating detail,
what you know about Olaf,
this rash of fires,
and anything we need to know
about the orphans.
I should start at the beginning.
But before I do,
I have an important update.
There may have been
a survivor of the fire.
Did he say...
- Did you say...
- That's right.
One of our parents could still be alive.
I'm wild about movies.
Now, who wants popcorn?
Go!
Dang these stiletto heels!
- We've gotta get out of here.
- Not without that film.
Then we have to get it.
I'm filing you under "S"
for "smashed flat!"
You and Sunny head for the door.
I'll get the film and catch up.
Peek-a-boo, I see you.
These shoes!
The door's blocked. There's no way out.
But you don't have to hide from me,
children.
Maybe we can help each other.
You see, I'm looking for something.
Small, round...
Full of secrets.
Jacques Snicket thought
he could hide it from me.
But now he's dead.
We can make it to the mail chute.
And I want it!
I was thinking the same.
- Did you get it?
- I got it.
Look out!
- Violet?
- I'm okay.
Esmé wants this. We can't let her have it.
- I'll find you.
- I knew you had it!
You're all alone, Violet.
How does it feel?
The hardest part of life on the lam
is to keep moving,
often in a direction
that seems wrong, dangerous
or an agonizing combination of both.
Sometimes, as in this moment
in the life of Violet,
there simply isn't
any other choice to make,
even if you end up regretting your actions
for the rest of your life,
however short that may be.
Give it to me!
I will let you go. I promise!
You're a terrible actress.
Come to Mother.
Hello, hello, hello.
Isn't it wonderful when we work together?