The End (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book 13)
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Like an off-key violin concert, the Roman Empire, or food poisoning, all things must come to an end. Thankfully, this includes A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. The thirteenth and final installment in the groundbreaking series will answer readers′ most burning questions: Will Count Olaf prevail? Will the Baudelaires survive? Will the series end happily? If there′s nothing out there, what was that noise?
Then again, why trouble yourself with unfortunate resolutions? Avoid the thirteenth and final book of Lemony Snicket′s international bestselling series and you′ll never have to know what happens.
depends on how you look at it,” Violet said, and her siblings nodded in agreement. “Very well,” Ishmael said. “Run along and find your robes, and once you’ve changed, please give all of your old things to Friday and we’ll haul them off to the arboretum.” “Everything?” Klaus said. Ishmael nodded. “That’s our custom.” “Occulaklaus?” Sunny asked, and her siblings quickly explained that she meant something like, “What about Klaus’s glasses?” “He can scarcely read without them,” Violet added.
in milk chocolate and crushed honeycomb, and I found this to be a wonderful antidote to being tossed like a rag doll in the turbulent waters of a particularly stormy creek. But the Baudelaires accepted their bowls of ceviche, as well as the strange utensils Friday handed them, which were made of wood and looked like a combination of a fork and a spoon. “They’re runcible spoons,” Friday explained. “We don’t have forks or knives in the colony, as they can be used as weapons.” “I suppose that’s
dark red velvet, which was streaked and soaked from the rain, and her hair lay sprawled behind her like a wide, tangled fan. The foot that was hanging over the side of the cube was bent a strange, wrong way, but she looked otherwise unharmed. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was frowning, but her belly, full and round from her pregnancy, rose and fell with calm, deep breaths, and her hands, covered in long, white gloves, lay gently on her chest, as if she were comforting herself, or her child.
“That little girl hasn’t been here long,” sneered Count Olaf, “so she still believes Ishmael lets people do whatever they want. Don’t be as dumb as she is, orphans.” Klaus wished desperately that his commonplace book was open in his lap, so he could take notes, instead of on the far side of the island, with all of the other forbidden items. “How do you know so much about this place, Olaf?” he demanded. “You’ve only been here a few days, just like us!” “Just like you,” the villain repeated
the sand, far from the treachery of the world, and the children stood on the beach and stared into his face. His eyes shone brightly, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to tell them something, but the Baudelaire orphans never heard Count Olaf say another word. Kit gave a cry of pain, thick with poisonous fungus, and clutched her heaving belly, and the Baudelaires hurried to help her. They did not even notice when Count Olaf closed his eyes for the last time, and perhaps this is a good time for