𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 || 𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐄

𝟎𝟒: 𝐈 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐑𝐨 𝐫𝐲.

~~~~~~~~~~

As luck would have it, I could not, in fact, just walk on over to the bank and have a nice chat with Jacquelyn Scieszka about the description of demolition that would soon follow if we didn't put a stop to Count Olaf and his stupid rice pilaf. 

Okay, here's how it went when I asked Aunt Strauss. 

Me: "Hey, can I go to the bank today?"

Aunt Strauss: "The bank? What for?"

Me: "I wanna make an account for my money."

Aunt Strauss: "Maybe . . . I'll check my schedule and see when I'm free to take you there."

Me: "Oh, there's no need for that. I can do it myself."

Aunt Strauss: "No need? Rory—you're 12! You need a parent or guardian to help set up your account!"

Dam the laws. How the Hades was I, a minor, supposed to change the course of this timeline and live my ASOUE life if the laws kept hindering me like hounds?

I decided to wait until Aunt Strauss had another court case to attend. The day came soon, which I figured out by waking up to her spending the morning preparing a lamb leg for the Baudelaires, as I clearly remembered. RIP, you beautiful creature, your sacrifice shall be honored. The image of a goat wearing a wreath and angel wings fluttered in my brain annoyingly. I kicked it out and replaced it with my morning musical song— Who Will I Be by Demi Lovato. 

Yeah I like Disney, sue me.

"Oh, good. You're up," she noted without looking up. "Could you be a dear and help prepare the mint jelly?"

I grunted and rubbed my eyes, which was the Morning Rory way of saying "Sure, but I only half heard you 'cuz I'm only half up."

Then, I trudged over to the couch and flopped on, splaying my legs on the backrest of the couch as my had hung from the edge. Upside down, I watched Aunt Strauss continue her work on the lamb leg for about three more minutes before she stopped and turned to me. 

Oh crap, she's giving me one of her looks. What did I do?

"Rory, I asked you to prepare the mint jelly," she repeated. 

I blinked. "Oh . . . you meant now."

She gave me another look. 

I groaned and flipped off the couch in an awkward front flip. I won't lie, I twisted my right knee and my left ankle doing that, but no way was I going to submit to the pain. 

Fifty minutes of limping and mint jelly-making later, Aunt Strauss and I had finished with me finally understanding what mint jelly tasted like. My final statement was that it was not bad, but not a favorite. 

Aunt Strauss clapped her hands with joy at our accomplishment while I just sat on the only clean part of the table left. "Watch the lamb for me, will you, dear? I'll just go get my things and we'll just pop on over to Count Olaf's to give this to the Baudelaires, and I'll be on my way to court."

"Why do I have to come, then, if I'm not coming with you to court?" I asked with a yawn. I knew Olaf was just going to eat that beautifully cooked lamb anyways and I wasn't even going to get to see the Baudelaires.

"Why don't you go and ask him if you can play with the children?" she suggested innocently. 

I withheld a snort. Count Olaf, allow me inside his house so that I could see his abusive treatment of the Baudelaire children? Not a chance in hell.