Chapter 2
“This is the radiator,” Aunt Josephine said, pointing to a radiator with a pale and skinny finger. “Please don’t ever touch it. You may find yourself very cold here in my home. I never turn on the radiator, because I am frightened that it might explode, so if often gets chilly in the evenings.”
Violet and Klause looked at one another briefly, and Sunny looked at both of them. Aunt Josephine was giving them a tour of their new home and so far appeared to be afraid of everything in it, from the welcome mat—which Aunt Josephine explained, could cause someone to trip and break their neck—to the sofa in the living room, which she could fall over at any time and crush them flat.
“This is the telephone,” Aunt Josephine said, gesturing to the telephone. “It should only be used in emergencies, because there is a danger of electrocution.”
“Actually,” Klause said, “I’ve read quite a bit about electricity. I’m pretty sure that the telephone is perfectly safe.”
Aunt Josephine’s hands fluttered to her white hair as if something had jumped onto her head. “You can’t believe everything you read,” she pointed out.
“I’ve built a telephone from scratch,” Violet said. “If you’d like, I could take the telephone apart and show you how it works. That might make you feel better.”
“I don’t think so,” Aunt Josephine said, frowning.
“Delmo!” Sunny offered, which probably meant something along the line of “If you wish I will bite the telephone to show you that it’s harmless.”
“Delmo?” Aunt Josephine asked, bending over to pck up a piece of lint from the faded flowery carpet. “What do you mean by ‘delmo’? I consider myself an expert on the English language, and I have no idea what the word ‘delmo’ means. Is she speaking some other language?”
“Sunny doesn’t speak fluently yet, I’m afraid,” Klause said, picking his little sister up. “Just baby talk, mostly.”
“Grun!” Sunny shrieked, which meant something like “I object to your calling it baby talk!”
“Well, I will have to teach her proper English,” Aunt Josephine said stiffly. “I’m sure you all need some brushing up on your grammar, actually. Grammar is the greatest joy in life, don’t you find?”
The 3 siblings looked at one another. Violet was more likely to say that inventing was the greatest joy in life, Klause thought reading was, and Sunny of course took no greater pleasure than in biting things. The Baudelaires thought of grammar—all those rules about how to write and speak the English language—the way they thought of banana bread: fine, but nothing to make a fuss about it. Still, it seemed rude to contradict Aunt Josephine.
“Yes,” Violet said finally. “We’ve always loved grammar.”
Aunt Josephine nodded, and gave the Baudelaires a small smile. “Well, I’ll show you to your room and continue the rest of the tour after dinner. When you open this door, just push on the wood here. Never use the doorknob. I’m always afraid that it will shatter into a million pieces and that one of them will hit my eye.”
The Baudelaires were beginning to think that they would not be allowed to touch a single object in the whole house, but they smiled at Aunt Josephine, pushed one the wood, and opened the door to reveal a large, well-lit room with blank white walls and a plain blue carpet on the floor. Inside were 2 good-sized beds and one good-sized crib, obviously for Sunny, each covered in a plain blue bedspread, and at the foot of each bed was a large truck, for storing things. At the other end of the room was a large closet for everyone’s clothes, a small window for looking out, a medium-sized pile of tin cans for no apparent purpose.
“I’m sorry that all three of you have to share a room,” Aunt Josephine said, “but this house isn’t very big. I tried to provide you with everything you would need, and I do hope you will be comfortable.”
“I’m sure we will,” Violet said, carrying her suitcase into the room. “Thank you very much, Aunt Josephine.”
“In each of your trunks,” Aunt Josephine said, “there’s a present.”
Presents? The Baudelaires had not received presents for a long, long time. Smiling, Aunt Josephine walked to the first trunk and opened it. “For Violet,” she said, “there is a lovely new doll with planty of outfits for it to wear.” Aunt Josephine reached inside and pulled out a plastic doll with a tiny mouth and wide, staring eyes. “Isn’t she adorable? Her name is Pretty Penny.”
“Oh, thank you you,” said Violet, who at 14 was too old for dolls and had never particularly liked dolls anyways. Forcing a smile on her face, she took Pretty Penny from Aunt Josephine and patted it on its little plastic head. “And for Klause,” Aunt Josephine said, “there is a model train set.” She opened the second trunk and pulled out a tiny train car. “You can set up the tracks in that empty corner of the room.”
“What fun,” Said Klause, trying to look excited. Klause had never liked model trains, as they were a lot of work to put together and when you were down all you had was something that went around and aounr in endless circles.
“And for little Sunny,” Aunt Josephine said, reaching into the smaller trunk, which sat at the foot of the crib, “here is a rattle. See, Sunny, it makes a little noise.” Sunny smiled at Aunt Josephine, showing all four of her sharp teeth, but her older siblings knew that Sunny despised rattles and the irritating sounds they made when you shook them.
Sunny had been given a rattle when she was very small, and it was the only thing she was not sorry to lose in the enormous fire that had destroyed the Baudelaire home.
“It is so generous of you,” Violet said, “to give us all of these things.” She was too polite to add that they weren’t things they particularly liked.
“Well, I am very happy to have you here,” Aunt Josephine said. “I love grammar so much. I’m excited to be able to share my love of grammar with three nice children like yourselves. Well, I’ll give you a few minutes to settle in and then we’ll have some dinner. See you soon.”
“Aunt Josephine,” Klause asked, “what are these cans for?”
“Those cans” For burglars, naturally,” Aunt Josephine said, patting the bun of hair on top of her hair. “You must be as frightened of burglars as I am. So every night, simply place these tin cans right by the door, so that when burglars come in, they’ll trip over the cans and you’ll wake up.”
“But what will we do then, when we’re awake in a room with an angry burglar?” Violet asked. “I would prefer to sleep through a burglary.”
*unfinished*
