CHAPTER
Eight
By the time the Baudelaire orphans found their way back to the freaks’ caravan, Hugo, Colette, and Kevin were waiting for them. Colette and Kevin were just finishing a game of dominoes, and Hugo had cooked up a pot of tom ka gai, which is a delicious soup commonly eaten in Thailand. But as the Baudelaires sat at the table and ate their supper, they were not in the mood to digest the mixture of chicken, vegetables, fancy mushrooms, fresh ginger, coconut milk, and water chestnuts that the hunchback had prepared. They were more concerned with digesting information, a phrase which here means “thinking about everything that Madame Lulu had told them.” Violet took a spoonful of hot broth, but she was thinking so hard about Lulu’s archival library that she scarcely noticed the unusual, sweet taste. Klaus chewed on a water chestnut, but he was wondering so much about the headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains that he didn’t appreciate its appealing, crunchy texture. And Sunny tipped the bowl forward to take a large sip, but she was so curious about the disguise kit that she wasn’t aware that her beard was getting soaked. Each of the three children finished their soup to the last drop, but they were so eager to hear more from Lulu about the mystery of V.F.D. that they felt hungrier than when they sat down.
“Everyone sure is quiet tonight,” Colette said, contorting her head underneath her armpit to look around the table. “Hugo and Kevin, you haven’t talked much, and I don’t think I’ve heard a single growl from Chabo, or heard a word out of either of your heads.”
“I guess we’re not feeling much like making conversation,” Violet said, remembering to speak as low as she could. “We have a lot to think about.”
“We sure do,” Hugo said. “I’m still not wild about the idea of being eaten by a lion.”
“Me neither,” Colette said, “but today’s visitors were certainly excited about the carnival’s new attraction. Everyone does seem to love violence.”
“And sloppy eating,” Hugo said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “It’s certainly an interesting dilemma.”
“I don’t think it’s an interesting dilemma,” Klaus said, squinting at his coworkers. “I think it’s a terrible one. Tomorrow afternoon, someone will jump to their deaths.” He did not add that the Baudelaires planned to be far away from Caligari Carnival by then, heading out to the Mortmain Mountains in the invention Violet planned to construct early tomorrow morning.
“I don’t know what we can do about it,” Kevin said. “On one hand, I’d rather keep on performing at the House of Freaks instead of being fed to the lions. But on the other hand—and in my case, both my hands are equally strong—Madame Lulu’s motto is ‘give people what they want,’ and apparently they want this carnival to be carnivorous.”
“I think it’s a terrible motto,” Violet said, and Sunny growled in agreement. “There are better things to do with your life than doing something humiliating and dangerous, just to make total strangers happy.”
“Like what?” Colette asked.
The Baudelaires looked at one another. They were afraid to reveal their plan to their coworkers, in case one of them would tell Count Olaf and ruin their escape. But they also couldn’t stand resolute, knowing that something terrible would happen just because Hugo, Colette, and Kevin felt obliged to be freaks and live up to Madame Lulu’s motto.
“You never know when you’ll find something else to do,” Violet said finally. “It could happen at any moment.”
“Do you really think so?” Hugo asked hopefully.
“Yes,” Klaus said. “You never know when opportunity will knock.”
Kevin looked up from his soup and gazed at the Baudelaires with a look of hope in his eye. “Which hand will it knock with?”
“Opportunity can knock with any hand, Kevin,” Klaus said, and at that moment there was a knock at the door.
“Open up, freaks.” The impatient voice, coming from outside the caravan, made the children jump. As I’m sure you know, when Klaus used the expression “opportunity will knock,” he meant that his coworkers might find something better to do with their time, instead of leaping into a pit of hungry lions just to give some people what they wanted. He did not mean that the girlfriend of a notorious villain would actually knock on the door and give them an idea that was possibly even worse, but I am sorry to say that it was Esmé Squalor who was knocking, her long fingernails clattering against the door. “Open up. I want to talk to you.”
“Just one moment, Ms. Squalor,” Hugo called, and walked over to the door. “Let’s all be on our best behavior,” he said to his coworkers. “It’s not often that a normal person wants to talk to us, and I think we should make the most of this opportunity.”
“We’ll be good,” Colette promised. “I won’t bend into a single strange position.”
“And I’ll use only my right hand,” Kevin said. “Or maybe only my left hand.”
“Good idea,” Hugo said, and opened the door. Esmé Squalor was leaning in the doorway with a wicked smile on her face.
“I am Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor,” she said, which was often how she announced herself, even when everyone nearby knew who she was. She stepped inside the freaks’ caravan, and the Baudelaires could see that she had dressed for the occasion, a phrase which here means “put on a specific outfit in an attempt to impress them.” She was dressed in a long, white gown, so long that it passed her feet and lay around her as if she were standing in a large puddle of milk. Embroidered on the front of the gown in glittery thread were the words I LOVE FREAKS, except instead of the word “love” there was an enormous heart, a symbol sometimes used by people who have trouble figuring out the difference between words and shapes. On one of the shoulders of the gown, Esmé had tied a large brown sack, and on her head she had an odd round hat, with black thread poking out of the top, and it had a large, angry face drawn on the front of it. The children knew that such an outfit must be very in, otherwise Esmé would not be wearing it, but they couldn’t imagine who in the world would admire such strange clothing.
“What a lovely outfit!” Hugo said.
“Thank you,” Esmé said. She poked Colette with one of her long fingernails, and the contortionist stood up so Esmé could sit down in her chair. “As you can see from the front of my gown, I love freaks.”
“You do?” Kevin said. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Yes, it is,” Esmé agreed. “I had this dress made especially to show how much I love them. Look, there’s a cushion on the shoulder, to resemble a hunchback, and my hat makes me look as if I have two heads, like Beverly and Elliot.”
“You certainly look very freakish,” Colette said.
Esmé frowned, as if this wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear. “Of course, I’m not really a freak,” she said. “I’m a normal person, but I wanted to show you all how much I admire you. Now, please bring me a carton of buttermilk. It’s very in.”
“We don’t have any,” Hugo said, “but I think we have some cranberry juice, or I could make you some hot chocolate. Chabo here taught me to add cinnamon to the hot chocolate, and it tastes quite delicious.”
“Tom ka gai!” Sunny said.
“And we also have soup,” Hugo said.
Esmé looked down at Sunny and frowned. “No, thank you,” she said, “although it’s very kind of you to offer. In fact, you freaks are so kind that I consider you to be more than employees at a carnival I happen to be visiting. I consider you to be some of my closest friends.”
The children knew, of course, that this ridiculous statement was as fake as Esmé’s second head, but their coworkers were thrilled. Hugo gave Esmé a big smile, and stood up straight so that you could barely see his hunchback. Kevin blushed and looked down at his hands. And Colette was so excited that before she could stop herself, she twisted her body until it resembled the letter K and the letter S at the same time.
“Oh, Esmé,” Colette said. “Do you really mean it?”
“Of course I mean it,” Esmé said, poin
ting to the front of her gown. “I would rather be here with you than with the finest people in the world.”
“Gosh,” Kevin said. “No normal person has ever called me a friend.”
“Well, that’s what you are,” Esmé said, and leaned toward Kevin to kiss him on the nose. “You’re all my freaky friends. And it makes me very sad to think that one of you will be eaten by lions tomorrow.” The Baudelaires watched as she reached into a pocket in the gown and drew out a white handkerchief, embroidered with the same slogan as her gown, and held up the word “freaks” to dab at her eyes. “I have real tears in my eyes from thinking about it,” she explained.
“There, there, close friend,” Kevin said, and patted one of her hands. “Don’t be sad.”
“I can’t help it,” Esmé said, yanking back her own hand as if she were afraid that being ambidextrous was contagious. “But I have an opportunity for you that might make all of us very, very happy.”
“An opportunity?” Hugo asked. “Why, Beverly and Elliot were just telling us that an opportunity could come along at any minute.”
“And they were right,” Esmé said. “Tonight I am offering you the opportunity to quit your jobs at the House of Freaks, and join Count Olaf and myself in his troupe.”
“What would we do exactly?” Hugo asked.
Esmé smiled, and began to accentuate the positive aspects of working with Count Olaf, a phrase which here means “make the opportunity sound better than it really was, by emphasizing the good parts and scarcely mentioning the bad.” “It’s a theatrical troupe,” she said, “so you’d be wearing costumes and doing dramatic exercises, and occasionally committing crimes.”
“Dramatic exercises!” Kevin exclaimed, clasping both hands to his heart. “It’s always been my heart’s desire to perform on a stage!”
“And I’ve always wanted to wear a costume!” Hugo said.
“But you do perform on a stage,” Violet said, “and you wear an ill-fitting costume every day at the House of Freaks.”
“If you joined, you’d get to travel with us to exciting places,” Esmé continued, glaring at Violet. “Members of Count Olaf’s troupe have seen the trees of Finite Forest, and the shores of Lake Lachrymose, and the crows of the Village of Fowl Devotees, although they always have to sit in the back seat. And, best of all, you’d get to work for Count Olaf, one of the most brilliant and handsome men who ever walked the face of the earth.”
“Do you really think that a normal man like him would want to work with freaks like us?” Colette asked.
“Of course he would,” Esmé said. “Count Olaf doesn’t care whether you have something wrong with you or if you’re normal, as long as you’re willing to carry out his orders. I think you’ll find that working in Olaf’s troupe is a job where people won’t think you’re freakish at all. And you’ll be paid a fortune—at least, Count Olaf will be.”
“Wow!” Hugo said. “What an opportunity!”
“I had a hunch you’d be excited about it,” Esmé said. “No offense, Hugo. Now, if you’re interested in joining, there’s just one thing you need to do.”
“A job interview?” Colette asked nervously.
“There’s no need for close friends of mine to do anything as unpleasant as a job interview,” Esmé said. “You just have to do one simple task. Tomorrow afternoon, during the show with the lions, Count Olaf will announce which freak will jump into the pit of lions. But I want whomever is chosen to throw Madame Lulu in instead.”
The freaks’ caravan was silent for a moment as everyone digested this information. “You mean,” Hugo said finally, “that you want us to murder Madame Lulu?”
“Don’t think of it as murder,” Esmé said. “Think of it as a dramatic exercise. It’s a special surprise for Count Olaf that will prove to him that you’re brave enough to join his troupe.”
“Throwing Lulu into a pit of lions doesn’t strike me as particularly brave,” Colette said. “Just cruel and vicious.”
“How can it be cruel and vicious to give people what they want?” Esmé asked. “You want to join Count Olaf’s troupe, the crowd wants to see someone eaten by lions, and I want Madame Lulu thrown into the pit. Tomorrow, one of you will have the exciting opportunity to give everybody exactly what they want.”
“Grr,” Sunny growled, but only her siblings understood that she really meant “Everybody except Lulu.”
“When you put it like that,” Hugo said thoughtfully, “it doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Esmé said, adjusting her false head. “Besides, Madame Lulu was eager to see all of you eaten by lions, so you should be happy to throw her in the pit.”
“But why do you want Madame Lulu thrown in?” Colette asked.
Esmé scowled. “Count Olaf thinks we have to make this carnival popular, so that Madame Lulu will help us with her crystal ball,” she said, “but I don’t think we need her help. Besides, I’m tired of my boyfriend buying her presents.”
“That doesn’t seem like such a good reason for someone to be eaten by lions,” Violet said carefully, in her disguised voice.
“I’m not surprised that a two-headed person like yourself is a little confused,” Esmé said, and reached out her long-nailed hands to pat both Violet and Klaus on their scarred faces. “Once you join Olaf’s troupe, you won’t be troubled by that kind of freakish thinking any longer.”
“Just think,” Hugo said, “tomorrow we’ll stop being freaks, and we’ll be henchmen of Count Olaf.”
“I prefer the term henchpeople,” Colette said.
Esmé gave everyone in the room a big smile, and then reached up to her shoulder and opened the brown sack. “To celebrate your new jobs,” she said, “I brought each of you a present.”
“A present!” Kevin cried. “Madame Lulu never gave us presents.”
“This is for you, Hugo,” Esmé said, and took out an oversized coat the Baudelaires recognized from a time when the hook-handed man had disguised himself as a doorman. The coat was so big that it had covered his hooks, and as Hugo tried it on, they saw that it was also big enough to fit Hugo, even with his irregular shape. Hugo looked at himself in the mirror and then at his coworkers in joy.
“It covers my hunchback!” he said happily. “I look normal, instead of freakish!”
“You see?” Esmé said. “Count Olaf is already making your life much better. And look what I have for you, Colette.” The Baudelaires watched as Olaf’s girlfriend reached into the sack and pulled out the long, black robe that they had seen in the trunk of the automobile. “It’s so baggy,” Esmé explained, “that you can twist your body any which way, and no one will notice that you’re a contortionist.”
“It’s like a dream come true!” Colette said, grabbing it out of Esmé’s hands. “I’d throw a hundred people into the lion pit to wear something like this.”
“And Kevin,” Esmé said, “look at this small piece of rope. Turn around, and I’ll tie your right hand behind your back so you can’t possibly use it.”
“And then I’ll be left-handed, like normal people!” Kevin said, jumping out of his chair and standing on his two equally strong feet. “Hooray!”
The ambidextrous person turned around happily so Esmé could tie his right hand behind his back, and in a moment he became someone with only one useful arm instead of two.
“I haven’t forgotten you two,” Esmé continued, smiling at the three of them. “Chabo, here’s a long razor that Count Olaf uses when he needs to disguise himself with a good shave. I thought you could use it to trim some of that ugly wolf hair. And for you, Beverly and Elliot, I have this.”
Esmé removed the sack from her gown and held it out to the older Baudelaires triumphantly. Violet and Klaus peeked inside and saw that it was empty. “This sack is perfect to cover up one of your heads,” she explained. “You’ll look like a normal one-headed person who just happens to have a sack balanced on their shoulder. Isn’t that smashing?”
“I g
uess so,” Klaus said, in his fake high voice.
“What’s the matter with you?” Hugo demanded. “You’ve been offered an exciting job and given a generous present, and yet both your heads are moping around.”
“You, too, Chabo,” Colette said. “I can see through your fur that you don’t look very enthusiastic.”
“I think this might be an opportunity that we should refuse,” Violet said, and her siblings nodded in agreement.
“What?” Esmé said sharply.
“It’s nothing personal,” Klaus added quickly, although not wanting to work for Count Olaf was about as personal as things could get. “It does seem very exciting to work in a theatrical troupe, and Count Olaf does seem like a terrific person.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Kevin asked.
“Well,” Violet said, “I don’t think I’m comfortable throwing Madame Lulu to the lions.”
“As her other head, I agree,” Klaus said, “and Chabo agrees, too.”
“I bet she only half agrees,” Hugo said. “I bet her wolf half can’t wait to watch her get eaten.”
Sunny shook her head and growled as gently as she could, and Violet lifted her up and placed her on the table. “It just doesn’t seem right,” Violet said. “Madame Lulu isn’t the nicest person I know, but I’m not sure she deserves to be devoured.”
Esmé gave the older Baudelaires a large, false smile, and leaned forward to pat them each on the head again. “Don’t worry your heads over whether or not she deserves to be devoured,” she said, and then smiled down at Chabo. “You don’t deserve to be half wolf, do you?” she asked. “People don’t always get what they deserve in this world.”
“It still seems like a wicked thing to do,” Klaus said.
“I don’t think so,” Hugo said. “It’s giving people what they want, just like Lulu says.”
“Why don’t you sleep on it?” Esmé suggested, and stood up from the table. “Right after tomorrow’s show, Count Olaf is heading north to the Mortmain Mountains to take care of something important, and if Madame Lulu is eaten by then, you’ll be allowed to join him. You can decide in the morning whether you want to be brave members of a theater troupe, or cowardly freaks in a rundown carnival.”