Violet was sent downstairs the moment they had finished practicing. The play was to take place the following night. Grace came by late at night to give her bread and water. She came the morning after and it was Colette that came the hour before the play was to commence.

--

     That day everyone else pulled together to figure out the poem. Isadora sat on the opposite end of Klaus and Fiona, which Klaus was secretly grateful for, as he couldn't see all of the mean glares she shot at him.

     "Alright!" Klaus said, silencing the room. Everyone was there, even the islanders.

     "Their plan, from what I understand about the poem, is to try to marry Violet off! The problem with the plan is, they don't have her legal guardian's permission for it, and she is only seventeen. But we still need an escape plan for Violet. I wouldn't put it past them to keep her until she turns eighteen and marry her for real that time."

     "But Klaus," Sunny said, "Our names aren't cleared, as far as I know, so would it be safe to go out in the open?"

     "Oh, Baudelaires! I'm sorry I haven't told you this yet, but most of your crimes have been cleared- using a little bit of your fortune- the three fires are no longer part of the charge, and my associates are working on clearing out the charge fully." Eleanora said.

     "That's a relief," Klaus said. He then proceeded to read the poem:

"Twas astute, our plan long ago.

But, without further ado,

We countenance you to our play!

The Implausible Amalgamation, oh yay!

We hope you materialize and see

How Cormac and his bride were meant to be!

She's eighteen now, grown up so quickly.

But if you are dissimilar to us, and do not act as quickly

The wretched starlet, Loreta Vi' Dieboula

May just metamorphose into one of us!

It's would be a stigma if this palatial decrepit time

Shall perhaps cusp at the flip of a dime.

The farce, this occasion, is penned by the original

And absolutely fabulous Lauren Dewp'Peuct

And Geode Lorrtwo, marvelous dual relations.

We won't tell you where,

As we know you probably have already been there!"

     "That still makes no sense," Fiona said.

     "And here's the decoded version:

'Twas brilliant, our plan long ago

But, without further ado,

We invite you to our play

The Marvelous Marriage, oh yay!

We hope you come and see

How Cormac and his bride were meant to be!

She's eighteen now, grown up so quickly

But if you, unlike us, do not act so quickly,

The poor actress, Violet Baudelaire

May just turn into one of us!

It would be a shame if this grand old time

Shall perhaps end at the flip of a dime.

The play, this time, is written by the original

And absolutely fabulous Colette Duperow

And Regan Duperow, marvelous twin sisters.

We won't tell you where,

As we know you probably have been there!"

     "So their plan is to marry Violet?" Friday said, worried.

     "Yes," Klaus said gravely, "We have to go that play."

--

     Violet's dress was an almost whitish shade of blue, and it must have been quite fashionable, because Esme Squalor would probably have rather died in the Hotel Denouement fire than have something unfashionable in her play.

     It was sleeveless, with a collar and hem bespeckled with with what looked like tiny diamonds or crystals. The dress flared out from the waist. This would have been the dress Violet would have chosen if she had the option to, if only it had been a little longer. But, not wanting to enrage the troupe, she put the dress on, along with all of the accessories that all seemed a little... too fancy.

     It came with earrings (She didn't put them on, as she had never had her ears pierced) a silver necklace, and a set of silvery white bracelets. Last came the (Very) high heels. They matched the dress and had to be six inches high. She hardly had any experience high heels, but she managed to walk up the stairs with them in her hands, hoping a very special someone was in the crowd. She decided rather than attempt walking up the stairs with the heels on, and risking breaking her neck, she carried the heels in her hands.

     Colette was waiting at the top of her stairs, with her arms crossed.

     "Who's the judge?" Violet asked suspiciously.

     "Do you honestly think that we wouldn't think that through?" Colette said in a completely different voice, and Violet realized that the woman was not Colette, but Regan. 

     "Who's the judge?" Violet repeated her question.

     "I trained to be a judge before I became an evil practitioner, and graduated from the school with honors! To celebrate, I burned down the Quagmire mansion along with my own home. Shame Grace wasn't in the house at the time! Now I'm stuck with her. Come along!" Regan grabbed the back of her neck.

     Cream was smeared on her face, accompanied by chides about her not wearing the earrings and threats to pierce her ears right then and there which she barely worked her way out of.

     Finally, it was time for the performance. They got in the car and drove off.

A/N: I'm really sorry about how cruddy this half of the chapter, but I wanted to give you guys something before I leave tomorrow! The six days I will be at String Camp will be mostly spent practicing or doing stuff I likely won't want to do, but I will try to perfect the second half of this chapter, and get as far through the thirteenth as I can.
Meanwhile, lets just say I have plans for the Epilouge, and have written scenes for a sequel in between the this book and the one focusing on their children that may likely never exist... So I may do a ASOUE one shot sort of thing... What do you guys think?
-Allison