Finishing It

A Phrase which does not mean completing the story. Sorry.

This time when Olaf regained consciousness, he once more found himself in familiar surroundings. However this time it was the surroundings alone that were familiar. Well, that and the faces of the three individuals who stood before him.

He was not in any familiar disguise. He was in fact, not even in his usual clothes. He was dressed in what had to be the most unfashionable, hideous ensemble he'd ever seen. Even by his standards. This blow to his vanity outstripped the fact that he was strapped into a sturdy wooden chair for sheer horror. It even managed to overshadow the chill he felt at the perfectly placid expressions on the faces of the Baudelaires. Even grins of sadistic glee, or smiles of contentment, a sense of justice being done would have been preferable.

"You, you monsters!" Olaf cried out. "How dare you expose my magnificent-wait, what are you doing?"

It was Violet who did the talking as Klaus approached him with a pair of scissors. "Monsters? You really either have a lot of nerve, or are completely out of touch with reality."

"No! No I beg you!" Olaf screamed, to no avail. Klaus proceeded to give him not just a bad haircut, but with an electric razor, he shaved irregular spots into his already balding head.

"I'll get you for this." the count hissed. "I swear to you-"

"What will you do?" Violet countered. "Kill us? You were going to do that anyway." She approached him and looked at his right hand. Somehow with all he'd been through lately, Olaf had neglected to notice the throbbing ache there.

Oh yes. He thought. The cannibal. He hadn't been able to scream when the fingers were bitten off before. So he did so now. Melodically, and dramatically. He was still an actor after all. If he could move his hands he would have beat one upon his breast as he asked "Why God, why?"

Violet rolled her eyes. "Tell me Count, which hurts more? The clothes? Or the missing fingers?" The wound was looking rather nasty. And the smell wasn't any better. "Klaus has read many books on first aid. Klaus?"

"We stopped the bleeding." Klaus said. "But we left them mostly untreated. There'd be little point anyway."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Olaf stammered.

"Oh we're going to kill you." Violet said matter of factly. "Like you killed our parents. And Uncle Monty, and Aunt Josephine, and so many others. But mostly, like you did our parents."

"Your house is very flammable." Klaus nodded, picking up Sunny, who was now looking at Olaf hungrily. "I read books about torture, but we decided that this way was best."

Between Klaus' reading books on chemistry, and Violet's talent for inventing, they had concocted a compound that when ignited, would burn very slowly, but hot enough to leave nothing behind of the count, but ashes.

"Also I read several books about falsifying records. From your own collection as a matter of fact. As of a few hours ago, you don't even officially exist. No one will ever remember that you did."

If Olaf had been a parent, he might just have been proud to have children this capable of such a perverse final blow. To even realize that such a thing would be devastating to what remained of his ego...it was genius.

"Now, really children," he tried, "We, we can work this out can't we?"

"No thank you." Violet said, taking the chemical they'd created and pouring over him. "We've worked it all out ourselves." And with that, she lit a match, dropped it in his lap, and with her brother and sister, left the house. The sounds of Count Olaf's agonized, despairing cries accompanied them on their way.

And if only it ended there. Any reasonable person could be satisfied with the Count being punished. If perhaps not so severely. Even to include his former henchmen as well. Sadly, the Baudelaire orphans were no longer reasonable people. And they had much work to do.

To be continued...