A Series of Unfortunate Events (2017–…): Season 3, Episode 7 - Episode #3.7 - full transcript

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Where to, young lady?

The Hotel Denouement, please.

The Hotel Denouement
burned down in a fire years ago.

It's just a pile of ash.
Why the heck do you want to go there?

I'm looking for someone.

Well, I hope you find 'em, Miss...?

Baudelaire.

You may have noticed in your life

that it is easier
to get used to happiness than despair.

The 13th time
you drink a root beer float,



you may enjoy it less than the first time
because you have become used to the taste

of vanilla ice cream
and root beer mixed together. However...

the 13th time you discover
somebody is following you,

your despair is much greater
than the first time

because you've been on the run
for many years and you're exhausted.

My name is Lemony Snicket.

I have been on the run for many years,
and I am exhausted.

I was once a member
of a secret organization,

along with my friends, my siblings,
and the woman I loved.

Now all of those people
and the organization are gone,

and I spend my days
drinking root beer floats alone

as I trace the sad, soggy case
of the Baudelaire orphans.

But now the case has dried up.

I cannot find where the Baudelaires went



when they sailed away
from that burning hotel so many years ago,

nor do I know what's become of them since.

All that I do know
is that in this story...

there are no happy endings,
and in that respect...

I fear that the Baudelaire orphans
and I are in the same boat.

I've triumphed!

I've burned down the Hotel Denouement,

destroyed V.F.D. once and for all,

and the Baudelaire orphans
are finally in my clutches!

At last, their fortune is mine!

So you keep telling us.

The first thing I'll buy is a new car.

Something with a big engine

so I can drive faster than the speed limit
and ram into other cars unsuspected.

Orphans,

- head to the nearest car dealership!
- We can't head anywhere.

The wind has died,
and we're exhausted from rowing.

Laziness is no excuse.

You orphans are the worst henchpeople
I ever acquired.

-We're not your henchpeople!
-What is there to eat around here?

How dare you call me that!

I think you're forgetting
who the captain is.

If you don't do exactly as I say,

I will break open this diving helmet,
and then, oh, you'll be sorry.

So will you. If you release the Medusoid
Mycelium, we'll all be poisoned.

We're in the same boat.

You think you're so clever.

Ever since you were orphaned,
all you've done is complained.

Well, while you were being
whiny and useless,

I have come up with a plan.

We don't have to just be stuck here
in the middle of the ocean

on the Carmelita II, because I...

am going to change its name to the Olaf!

I read those tidal charts on the Queequeg.

I bet I can chart a course
back to the city.

I can create a compass. All I need is
a piece of magnetized metal and a pivot.

What do we do about Count Olaf?

We may not have a navigational compass,
Sunny, but we still have a moral compass.

We can't just push a person overboard.

Not even Count Olaf?
As long as he's around, nobody's safe.

It's a terrible thing to do.

Even to a terrible person.

What choice do we have?

Hmm. Well...

Well, well, well.

It looks like the tide has turned
and a storm is brewing.

I meant that figuratively.

He meant that literally.

Klaus?

Klaus!

-Sunny!
-We're here.

We're okay. We survived the storm.

I think.

Where are we?

We're on the coastal shelf
of an island surrounded by a seawall.

-The storm must have washed us over it.
-A lot of things washed over it.

I guess we didn't need
to throw him overboard.

Do you think he's...

I've never seen him look so calm.

Get me a coffee, orphans!
I've had a very rough night.

We're on a coastal shelf.
There is no coffee.

Don't be ridiculous! There's
an espresso maker right over there,

next to the girl in the robe.

Castaways!

Don't be afraid. I'm Violet Baudelaire,

and these are my siblings,
Klaus and Sunny.

-What's your name?
-Friday.

That's a very nice name.
Are you a castaway too?

I live on the island.

Ha! I've discovered an island!

I'm going to name it Olaf-Land.

You haven't discovered it.
There are already people living here.

I bet they'll worship me as their king!

Bow before me, Friday!

No, thank you.
Our colony isn't a monarchy.

Hmm. Not yet.

Will you take us to your colony?

-Do I have to take your friend?
-He's not our friend.

These are my subjects.

Take me to your leader.

I could take you to our facilitator,
but he's not gonna like you.

It's Storm Scavenging Day.

After a storm, we collect everything
that washes up and bring it to Ishmael.

Ishmael?

He helps us decide what to keep
and what to throw away.

And what did you find
after the storm, Alonso?

I found this birdcage.

It's pretty big, so I'm guessing
it was used for big birds like eagles.

Since we don't have any birds
on the island,

I'm not sure we have need for a birdcage.

If I were you,
I would throw that useless thing away,

but I won't force you.

Who else found something to share?

You call this a colony?
It's just a bunch of yutzes!

You mean yurts. And they're tents.

I don't know,
they seem pretty relaxed to me.

I found an accordion.

I found this small black statue
of a sea monster!

I found some castaways!

This is our facilitator, Ishmael.

Oh, call me Ish.

I'm Violet Baudelaire, and these are
my siblings, Klaus and Sunny.

And that man is a threat to everyone here!

You!

I claim this island

and these children
in the name of Count Olaf.

Now get off my throne.

Well, I'd prefer not to.

I've never heard of Count Olaf.

Anyone who is not a bearded old coot
on a desert island

knows Count Olaf is very famous
in many prominent theatrical circles.

Yes, now that you mention it,

I did see that name
in a review that washed up.

Yes, it called him a ham.

-Lies.
-A tedious blowhard.

-Slander.
-A preening, prancing nincompoop

whose worst crime
is not any of a long list

of murders, arsons,
and charges of child endangerment,

but the unbridled arrogance to play a part
for which he was thoroughly unqualified--

Defamation!

-Embarrassingly unconvincing--
-Mean-spirited!

And at least several decades too old.

Now you look here!

You may be the big kahuna
on this rinky-dink island,

but I'm the guy holding the harpoon gun.

-For now.
-For now?

You can shoot me if you'd like.

-I'd like that a lot.
-You can't shoot all these fine people.

Come on! What are a bunch
of hippies in robes gonna do?

-Henchpeople, do something!
-You don't have any henchpeople.

-They all abandoned you.
-That's right!

Uh...

How about a compromise?

You keep the island, I'll take
the children. Okay, that didn't go--

Ow!

Alonso, bring me the birdcage.

I think we've found
a use for it after all.

What kind of monster
stuffs someone into a birdcage?

What are you looking at, pipsqueak?

Take him to the seawall!

We have no room for bad apples here.

Bad apples?

Wait! Baudelaires, you can't let
these people take me away!

Not when I know a secrets about--

So tell me,
how did three children like you

come to be shipwrecked
with a man like that?

-It's a long story.
-Extremely long.

But it's not over yet.

-We have to get back.
-Is there a way off this island?

It depends on how you look at it.

The seawall shelters us from storms,

but I'm afraid sailing over those
sharp rocks, that's nearly impossible.

-So we're stranded.
-Not quite.

You see, once a year, the tide rises
high enough to launch a boat

by sailing it through the lowest point
in that wall.

They call it Decision Day,

and that day happens to be tomorrow.

We have an outrigger--
you see that large canoe?-- standing by,

for anyone who wants to go,
but no one ever does.

There's our flock of sheep.
They were shipwrecked here, too.

- That's a strange color for sheep.
- Common in flamingos,

and like flamingos,
these sheep live on a diet of shrimp

which gives their wool
its unique coral hue.

Same as you see in our robes
and our tents.

Everyone's happy.

It's kind of nice.

You must be exhausted from the storm.
We'll get you some fresh clothes.

You're in luck. Alonso's making--

Ceviche!

It's that South American dish
made from raw seafood

marinated in citrus and spices?

Normally. But we don't have citrus fruits
or spices on the island,

so ours is just plain, raw fish.

My sister wonders
why you don't use fire to cook.

Or eat the sheep. Sorry, she recently
became interested in cooking.

Fire is one of the most dangerous things
in the world.

We wholeheartedly agree.

How did so many people
end up on the island?

I took a cruise
when I was pregnant with Friday.

The ship hit an iceberg,
and I washed up here.

-I got caught in a tempest.
-I got caught in a manatee accident.

Don't you miss your old lives?

I barely remember my old life. It's fuzzy.

Like a dream.

We have a motto on this island:

"Forget your troubles."

Care for a drink?

It's a cordial made of fermented coconut.

I'm not sure we like the taste.
Do we have to drink it?

Well, I won't force you,
but we don't have fresh water here,

so if you don't drink it,
you might die of dehydration.

Well, Ishmael--

Oh, call me Ish.

Are you sure we're safe
from Count Olaf here?

He could escape the cage
and find the harpoon gun, or--

Something worse.

You don't have to worry about that.

We send all the dangerous items
to the other side of the island

so they can't hurt anyone.

As for Count Olaf, well,
we've placed his cage by the seawall,

and tomorrow, when that seawall floods,

Count Olaf will drown.

Isn't that cruel?

That depends on how you look at it.

These robes may be comfortable,

but I'm not comfortable
leaving Olaf to drown.

-We're not the ones doing it.
-We're not stopping it either.

With Count Olaf gone, we'd be safe
to go wherever we wanted.

We've been on the run for a long time,
and I'm exhausted.

Ishmael said forget your troubles.

Maybe it's time to start.

Flavorless ceviche
isn't the most exciting meal,

but you haven't lived till you've had
seafood fresh from the ocean!

Have you considered building
a water filtration system?

A water what-now?

A water filtration system

is a device that separates saltwater
into fresh water and salt.

You could drink
something other than coconut cordial,

and have salt to season your food.

Hey, that's a good idea.

To our newest castaways!
To the Baudelaire orphans!

To the Baudelaires!

I suggest we all retire.

Get a good night's sleep
before Decision Day.

I feel a storm coming on.

The storm's blowing suddenly around here.

Violet, would you stay?

So, you had an idea for an invention.

A water filtration system.
It wouldn't be hard.

I bet I could build it
with the items that have washed up.

What if our stomachs
couldn't tolerate fresh water

after drinking nothing
but coconut cordial?

What if we started fighting
over what to drink in the first place?

I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?

People here had hard lives
before they found this island.

They stay because it's safe,
and they trust me to keep it that way.

It was just an idea.

Yes, but ideas lead to more ideas,

which lead to arguments,
which lead to schisms.

You remember what got you stranded here
to begin with.

Don't rock the boat.

It means don't do anything
that might cause trouble.

Ishmael is trouble. We have to leave.

And go where?

It's not like we have a home waiting.
It's not like we have a home anywhere.

You want to stay where there's
nothing to read or invent?

No! I don't know.

I've been trying to remember
our life with our parents,

but it's all fuzzy like a dream.

It's normal for memories
to fade over time.

I can barely remember
what their faces looked like.

And why did they keep
all these secrets from us?

It's their fault these bad things
keep happening to us!

It's their fault we're...

orphans.

At dinner, Ishmael referred to us
as the Baudelaire orphans.

We never told him
that we lost our parents.

Ishmael's hiding something from us.
We have to find out what.

He's not gonna tell us.

But we know someone who might.

Well, well, well.

I said, "Well, well, well."

I knew your annoying curiosity
would lead you here eventually.

Did you bring me a banana daiquiri?

We brought you ceviche.

Ugh! This is cold, raw fish!

A fish bone? Are you trying to kill me?

I'm impressed.

You had something to tell us
about Ishmael.

You're not as stupid as you look,
though that would be impossible.

I didn't recognize him at first,
not with that ridiculous beard,

but he recognized me.

That's why he's locked me in here,
so I don't spill his secrets.

What secrets?

Let me out, and I might tell you.

If you tell us, we might let you out.

Let me out first.

Tell us first.

-Let me out first!
-Ishmael is going to let you drown!

If you don't tell us, you will die!

Of course I'm going to die!

That's the way of the world, Baudelaires.

Everybody runs around
with their secrets and their schemes,

trying to outwit one another,

and then they die.

Ishmael has locked me in here,

but if you let me out, I can outwit him,

and then...

you can be my henchfolk.

And we'll take that boat, and we'll
sail back to where the action is!

We don't want to be your henchfolk.
We don't want to play your games.

Come on. He's wasting our time.

Fine. Go.

I'll get out on my own. I always do!

And I'll be back with a new disguise.
The best one yet!

I may be in a cage, Baudelaires,
but I've still got it.

You hear me?

Baudelaires?

Can I at least have a blanket?

Ishmael?

- He's gone. He left his boots.
- And a trail of footprints.

Good idea, Sunny. Let's investigate.

Ishmael must be sneaking out
when he thinks everyone is asleep.

He's not just keeping
secrets from us.

He's keeping secrets
from the entire colony.

-It's a dead end.
-Maybe not.

I wonder...

This must lead
to the other side of the island.

That's where Ishmael said
he sends everything dangerous.

All these items
must have washed up on the seawall.

Ishmael said they were dangerous
and sent them here.

Think of what you could invent
with all this.

And research.

And cook.

Right, Sunny?

Sunny!

Sunny!

A house inside a tree.

Someone's built a water filtration system.

Someone's been reading a book.

"A figure from the shadowy past
has washed ashore.

I convinced the others to lock him
in a cage before he could recognize me.

Why won't anyone call me Ish?"

"The others concern me too.

They may be young, but I've never known
a Baudelaire who didn't rock the boat."

There's an annotation. "See page 252."

- It looks like...
- It can't be.

Yes, Baudelaires.

That's your mother's handwriting.

Why is our mother's handwriting
in that book?

Because, Baudelaires,

your parents lived on this island.

Our parents lived here? Did you know them?

Who are you really?

That's an interesting question.

I used to be a school principal.

Yes, that was many years ago,

at a school called Prufrock Prep.

Like most schools,
it was an underfunded institution.

But every year, there were a few children

with the same gleam in their eyes
that you have.

The Snickets. The Quagmires.

Count Olaf. Your parents.

And when I met a child like that,

I would recruit them
into a secret organization.

My organization.

You started V.F.D.

When a fire breaks out, the Official
Fire Department is there to fight it,

but figurative fires need fighting, too.

And my students were interested
in so many things.

Literature, science, music, theater,

animal behavior, the culinary arts.

And I thought, what if a group of curious,
capable young people came together

to stand against the ignorance
and injustice of this world?

We could make it a quieter, safer place.

And for a time we did, and then, well...

It all went up in smoke.

-The schism.
-Yes.

You can try to push back
against the troubles of this world,

but trouble is like the tide,

and it always returns.

When the schism broke out,

I abandoned my creation,
and I sailed here to live in exile.

Later on, your parents sailed here, too.

They wanted to start a family
someplace safe.

They built this house,

they wrote in that book,
they cooked delicious meals, and...

they built the most incredible inventions.

And then one day...

they left.

I tried to warn them.

I told them terrible things
waited out there in the world.

When The Daily Punctilio washed up
and I read about the fire,

I knew those terrible things
had come to pass.

It's almost Decision Day,
and you have a decision to make.

I failed your parents.

I could not protect them,
but I can protect their children.

Drink the cordial.

And think about it.

What are you thinking?

That I wish we had our parents
here and not just their handwriting.

The difference
between your memory of a person

and their handwriting is that,
unlike words written in ink,

most memories fade over time.

You likely no longer remember what
it was like to be a small, gurgling baby,

just as I no longer remember

what it was like to travel by trolley
in the light of day,

instead of by secret tunnel
in the dead of night.

But some memories never fade,

and these memories
are often of people we've lost.

We carry them with us,

the way I carry every letter
I ever received from Beatrice...

a woman I will never share a root beer
float or a horse costume with again.

Hello?

Is anyone down here?

Attention, colonists!

Another Decision Day has arrived.

Anyone wishing to leave the island?

Wise decision.

I declare Decision Day is over!

-Decision Day isn't over yet.
-Because we've decided to leave.

Baudelaires, you seem agitated.
Why don't you have some cordial?

We won't drink any,
and neither should any of you!

We read about fermented beverages here.
They're an opiate!

-Nothing wrong with a little opiate!
-Ishmael's trying to control you!

That's why nobody remembers
your lives before the island,

and why nobody ever wants to leave!

The Baudelaires are confused.

Obviously dehydrated.

I suggest you drink some cordial.

I suggest it very strongly.

Castaway!

Castaway!

She appears to be hurt...

and very pregnant.

-Kit!
- Kit!

Yes?

- No.
- Yes.

It is I, Kit Snicket.

And as you can see, I'm very pregnant.

No, you're not. You're Count Olaf!
A child can see that.

I'm a castaway

- and should be welcomed with gifts.
- You're not!

You're that villain we put in a birdcage.

I need medicine and your finest wine.

- It is Kit!
- Pay no attention to that woman!

Kit!

Kit! Kit!

She's breathing.

- What happened?
- I don't know.

I'll wrap the ankle.
You handle Count Olaf.

I've never seen so many books.

I've never seen books at all.

That treacherous woman up there has
dragged these books up to your colony

just to bring trouble
to you poor island folk.

We're not falling for that!

-Ishmael.
-Now look here...

As a decent person,
I never presume someone's gender,

but you're trying to manipulate
my decency,

so take off that ridiculous disguise!

You first, Ish.

You're still rotten, Olaf.

It's time you took responsibility
for your actions.

Only if you take responsibility for yours.

You took a plucky schoolboy

and made him think that books and poetry
and learning would keep him safe.

Well, they didn't.

Every parent figure I've ever had
has either let me down or died.

This is the end.

Only for you.

I don't know
how you got out of that cage--

-I picked the lock with a fish bone.
-I'm going to put you right back in.

I don't think that you are.
You were right, Ish.

One harpoon isn't much of a threat
against a colony,

but how about a diving helmet
filled with the world's deadliest fungus?

You don't mean--

That's right!

I found the Medusoid Mycelium,

and I will unleash it on this island

unless you give me those three orphans
and that canoe.

The orphans may be mutinous,
but they're still under my protection.

I won't let you take them.

And how do you plan to stop me?

With this.

Sunny?

Kit!

-Violet.
-You washed up on an island.

-You're gonna be all right.
-I'm afraid we're all far from all right.

I saw a diving helmet full of a dangerous
fungus wash up. Do you see it?

I think I know where it is.
Sunny, stay with Kit!

-No!
-Don't shoot!

You harpooned me.

Well, you started it!

You literally started it!

It doesn't matter who started it!
Those spores are the Medusoid Mycelium!

Medusoid Mycelium?

I feel something weird in my throat.

Yes. That weird feeling

is a poisonous mushroom that is
infecting you with its deadly spores.

-It's deadly?
-We need horseradish!

- It's the only cure!
- Or wasabi.

There aren't any spices on the island!

This is my moment of ultimate triumph!

At last, I have everything I have ever--

I have ev--

I don't want to die.

We need horseradish
or another culinary substitute!

Wait, I know of a horseradish factory
off Lousy Lane.

We can sail the outrigger there
and be saved!

You'd never reach it in time!

To the outrigger!

Push off, everyone!

-What if you don't make it?
-You could spread the fungus

-to the entire world!
-You're making a terrible mistake!

Maybe I am.

Being a leader is like being a parent.
You try to keep your children safe.

You just don't always know
what you're doing.

Farewell, Baudelaires!

Farewell!

- They'll never make it.
- There has to be something we can do.

There's always one thing you can do.

You can die.

Don't you understand, Baudelaires?

Don't you understand that so much of life

is just waiting for people
who have wounded you

to finally, finally die?

Kit!

Baudelaires.

We failed to stop Count Olaf
from releasing the Medusoid Mycelium.

We haven't failed yet.

Tell me, what happened at the hotel?

-Do you have the sugar bowl?
-We failed there, too.

You said the sugar bowl could help us.
What's in the sugar bowl?

Sugar.

Sugar?

From a botanical hybrid V.F.D. developed
to defend us against the Mycelium.

-I thought that was horseradish.
-Horseradish cures you.

The hybrid immunizes you.

Baudelaires, I failed you.

I told you I would come back to the hotel,
but then I saw an SOS signal

from a self-sustaining
hot-air mobile home.

Duncan and Isadora.

-Do you know where they are?
-Are they safe?

I don't know.

My submarine got attacked
before I could reach them. I'm...

I'm so sorry.

We're sorry, too.

We helped Count Olaf
burn down the hotel.

Sometimes...

you have to fight fire with fire.

When you fight fire with fire,
the world goes up in smoke.

Dewey says that.

Tell me, Baudelaires.

Is he safe?

Dewey's dead.

My baby will never meet her father.

I can feel the fungus in my throat.

The hour's not over yet.
Klaus, stay with Kit.

No. Baudelaires...

stay together.

Hold on. We'll be back soon.

Violet, I don't feel too good.

We're almost there.
Let's hope our parents cooked with spices.

We have to find horseradish,
or another culinary substitute.

Do you see anything?

There's nothing here!
No horseradish. No wasabi.

This can't be the end, not when
we're so close to so many things.

- I wish our parents could help us.
- Maybe they still can.

If there was another antidote,
maybe they wrote it down.

There's no index.

There's no table of contents.

We don't have time to read an entire book.

Is there another way to search a book
without reading it?

We can skim it.

Skimming a book
is not the same as reading it,

for the same reason that fast-forwarding
through a piece of televised entertainment

is not the same as watching it.

But when you skim through a narrative,
you get a strange view of the story,

full of confusing utterances...

It's a good thing I am not a centipede!

...out of context revelations...

"At that time, Mr. Poe
was known by his stage name..."

...and increasing desperation

as you get closer to the end.

Sunny's shivering,
and I'm finding it hard to breathe.

Sadly...

my search remains fruitless.

-Wait!
- But sometimes when you skim,

you find what you're looking for.

It's Mother's handwriting.

"In case the treachery
of the outside world reaches our shores,

we've recreated the botanical hybrid
in the tuberous canopy."

Botanical hybrid. That's what Kit said
was in the sugar bowl.

I don't know
what "tuberous canopy" means.

We found the answer,
but I don't know the words.

Sunny, what did you say?

She said apple.

Tuberous canopy. The roots above!

The apples from the tree.

The cure is right above our heads!

We can't die in here.

Our parents gave us the answers
in this room without even knowing it.

Maybe it's too late.

Maybe this is the end of our story.

I must be hallucinating
from the mushrooms.

That looks like
the Incredibly Deadly Viper.

It's bitter.

And they say the first bite of an apple
tastes the best.

It's the best thing I've ever tasted.

You're gonna be okay.
We found a way to dilute the poison.

-Take a bite.
-No, I can't.

You have to. You're sick.

No, I can't. It would harm the baby.

I can feel her coming soon.

The water's rising.
If you don't get off, you'll float away!

I can't move.

I'm not as strong as you, Baudelaires.
I've...

lost too many people.

My parents.

My brothers.

Dewey.

Your baby needs you.

We have to get her to shore.

We're too weak from the poison.

He'd never help us.

What choice do we have?

We're gonna get you help.

At last,
you bow before the king of Olaf-Land.

We don't have time for your nonsense.
We need your help.

You need my help?

Well, well, well.

How do you like them apples?

Take a bite of this apple.
It'll dilute the poison.

I don't want your bitter fruit!

I've lost too much to go on.

My parents, my true love, my henchfolk,

an enormous fortune I never really earned.

You have to go on.

Do one good thing in your life, Olaf.

I've done lots of good things in my life.

I once took in three orphans.

You made us orphans in the first place!

Is that what you think?

-We know it.
-You don't know anything.

Please!

You have to help Kit.

Her baby is arriving. She could die!

Kit...

might die?

Give me that.

That looks bad.

I've been worse.

Hello, hello, hello.

You!

I told you I'd do that one last time.

You are a wicked man.

You really think one kind act will make me
forgive you all your failings?

I haven't apologized.

-Let me see your eyes.
-Hm?

The night has a thousand eyes,
and the day but one.

Yet the light...

of the bright world dies
with the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
and the heart but one.

Yet the light of a whole life dies
when love is done.

I never forgot you.

You hurt people.

Yeah.

And people hurt me.

It's all over now.

What's that thing
your brother used to say?

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens...

like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can--

And don't have any kids yourself.

He's gone, Sunny.

He's dead.

As I'm sure you know,
"labor" is the term for the process

by which a woman gives birth.

By no coincidence, it is also a word
that means "a very difficult task."

It's a girl.

What will you name her?

Let's name her after your mother.

I always hoped I'd be
as good a mother as she was.

You will be.

It's too late.

The apple isn't working.

My baby will be an orphan.

Just promise me, Baudelaires...

Promise me she won't be alone.

Hey.

I know.

Kit! Kit!

Stay with us!

Kit!

Please don't go!

Kit!

Please don't leave us!

It is likely your eyes
were closed when you were born,

so that when you left the safe place
of your mother's womb,

or if you are a seahorse,
your father's yolk sac,

you did not yet know the people who
would shelter you as your life began,

when you were even smaller and more
delicate and demanding than you are now.

Perhaps if we saw what was ahead,

and glimpsed the crimes, follies,
and misfortunes that would befall us,

we would all stay in our mothers' wombs,

then there would be nobody in the world

but a great number
of pregnant, irritated women.

In any case, all of our stories
begin in darkness with our eyes closed.

And all our stories end that way, too,

as we utter our last words...

before slipping back into darkness...

and silence.

Violet...

What do we do?

-We look after her.
- How?

"A library's like an island
in a vast sea of ignorance..."

"Particularly if the library is tall

and the surrounding area
has been flooded."

Our parents left us this book.

We can start at the beginning.

Page one.

"We're embarking on a new voyage,

and Bertrand insisted
we document it in this book."

"We know that no book can contain
every story in the world,

even if the book is long and the world
seems to grow smaller every day."

"But perhaps many years from now,

another set of voyagers
will discover this book

and read about the people
who came before them..."

"The stories they left behind..."

"And this entire series
of unfortunate events."

Last chapter.

Today the seawall will flood,
and we've reached our decision.

We will leave the island in a boat
Bertrand has built and named after me,

to rejoin the world...

in time for our first child to be born.

We came here to raise children
someplace safe,

but we now realize
we cannot shelter them forever.

If it is a girl, we will name her Violet.

And if it is a boy...

Lemony!

Lemony?

-They were gonna name me Lemony.
-I wonder why that name was so important.

We met a Lemony, remember?

Our parents never told us about him.

Our parents never told us a lot of things.

Cake!

Ready?

One, two, three...

Happy birthday!

I can't believe it's been a year.

It's a strange place to celebrate
your first birthday.

Should we tell her
about the one on a submarine?

Or the one you had in a jail cell?

It's been a year. That means the seawall
will flood again tomorrow.

This is our chance to leave.

And go where?

We can't shelter her forever.
Her parents knew that.

If we leave, what will we find?

The world is a complicated
and confusing place,

with more stories

than even one very dedicated,
very lonely researcher can uncover.

Stories about noble siblings

who survive fire and eagles
to be reunited at last.

Or two submarine co-captains

on a mission to find
their missing stepfather.

Aye! This is Captain
Widdershins! Is anyone out there?

Or a troupe of actors
finding personal and artistic fulfillment.

At least for a night.

I've even heard of a brave snake

who swam a great distance
to carry an apple to a certain outrigger.

Though, of course,
there are still unknowns.

Well, we can't set sail
on a boat named the Olaf.

I think the original name is underneath.

That's right. That's your name.

It was our mother's name, too.

Are we ready to do this?

If we wait until we're ready,
we'll be waiting the rest of our lives.

Come on, Beatrice.

It's okay, it's okay.

Let's go home.

Sometimes a chapter might end,

but that doesn't mean
that the story is over.

And some stories go on,

even after the storyteller
has stopped telling them.

Strange as it may seem,
I still hope for the best,

even though the best,
like an interesting piece of mail,

so rarely arrives.

Then again, the 14th time
you are followed to your motel room,

it might not be the police or...

any surviving enemies. It...

might be a relative...

with...

an invitation to share a story.

And a root beer float.

Mr. Snicket?

I'm your niece.

Beatrice Baudelaire.

The second.

Would you like to hear a story
about our family?

I would like that very much.

As you know, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny
Baudelaire were intelligent children...

And they were charming
and resourceful and had...

Pleasant facial features.

They lived with their parents in a mansion
in the heart of a busy city.

You know this story.

Parts.

Do you know the part about the pirates?

Pirates?

Female Finnish pirates.

It was after we sailed away
from the island,

but before their third trip
to Briny Beach.

Violet had just tied up her hair
to invent a steering mechanism,

and Klaus was studying tidal charts,

when Sunny looked up from the black bean
and mango salad she was preparing

and said, "Shiver me timbers!"