Lemony Snicket

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Whoops! Maybe you were looking for Pessimism, or Depression? How about Suicide?

Yep, that's me!

Dear Reader,

It fills my heart with woe to inform you that this Uncyclopedia article is the worst. It tells the unhappy tale of a dreadful narrator named Lemony Snicket, who has the sad duty to write down the unpleasant tales of three tender orphans and their incompetent and vile caretaker, Count Olaf. They lead tragic lives, running from the law for crimes they probably did commit.

In this article, you will encounter several stupid and obvious clues, long ramblings with little or no point, me warning you to not read this article, identity theft, fruit tarts, random nouns that will somehow weasel their way into the aricle, and, perhaps, an antidepressant addiction.

Although I am actually paid to write these best-selling books and this article, it is not too late for you to scurry away like a stray dog, to happier, more flower-laden fields.

With no respect due,

Lemony Snicket

My Life

Unless you have lived a very unfortunate life, such as my life, I'm sure that you have at some time had the opportunity to see a sea horse. Seeing a C-shaped sea horse in the sea by the sea shore is certainly a sight to see. My life, and the life of the Baudelaire orphans, has not been filled with such frolicsome delights as sea horses, and indeed have been quite depressing - a word which here means "bleak" - and bleak - a word which here means "depressing" - and it would perhaps be best for you and your sea horse-filled life to stop reading this article, X out of this window, and start a new life as a circus performer (which would be a Very Fortunate Deed for you.)

My early life has been lost to the ravages of time. It is very obscure - a word which here means "hidden and out-of-sight". All that remains of this tumultuous period in my life are a few nondescript scraps of paper, an orange teddy bear that smells of salmon, a love letter, and an envelope that I dare not open addressed to a Mr. Jay Sullivan, Jr. All in all, very dreary, and having little or nothing to do with Sea Horses.

VFD

A picture of VFD.

VFD is a secret organization, an organization to which my sweet Beatrice and I are linked. Originally, their goal was to prevent fires, full of friendly, volunteers - a word which here means "person who has volunteered" - but it it my depressing duty to report that it did not stay that way. I would like to say that the volunteers remained handy and cheerful forever, stopping fires and helping old ladies cross the street. Maladroitly, this is not the case in reality, and it is my task to report the events as they occurred, regardless of whether or not they could have turned out better. Although it is my task to chronicle my life for this Uncyclopedia article, it is not too late for you to leave. It is too late, however, for my sweet, darling Beatrice.

Sweet, Darling Beatrice

Beatrice was the love of my life until a hideous event caused her untimely death. This event was so painful and tragic that I shall not repeat it here, or in public. It is Beatrice whose name I whimper to myself as I sob in my sleep. It is she that I recall fond memories of when I am on the run from terrible villains. It is her name that I state when asked if a creepy loser like me has ever had a girlfriend. Yet, no matter how many times I yearningly think of her, recite her name, or ramble on about her enigmatic qualities, my love will never return to me. If you have someone you love dearly, like I once did, I advise you stop reading this article immediately and depart from this article like Beatrice departed from me, or else you may lose your love in a similar manner to the way I lost mine.

My Name

This man is not me. I am far more suave.

An identity is, as modern computer Spyware has proven, a very stealable thing. I never access the Internet for exactly this reason. I am only now using the Internet to write this article, and even now I fear for the safety and well-being of my Social Security numbers, which I usually keep tucked safely away in my front shirt pocket for posterity. However, on rare occasions people will not just steal an identity for themselves. In my case, this is true, because people accuse me of having an identity that is not mine. That identity is "Daniel Handler".

Yes, it's true that some people with sick senses of humour would have you believe that my name is not, in fact, Lemonard J. "Lemony" Snicket, and that that name is simply a Nom de plume - a word which here means "pen name". They will also spread false propaganda to try to prove this point. I am always busy erasing this incorrect and fabricated evidence. My name is, indeed, not "Daniel Handler", nor have I ever met such a man. He sounds bad-tempered and stanky, and these are qualities I usually avoid in a person. Should I ever see him on the street or in a fancy French restaurant, I will be sure to run as fast as is possible with my flabby physique in the opposite direction.

My Works

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Yep, those are mine.

If you've ever been very, very rich, and then lost it all, you know the pain that comes with the experience. Looking at you, unscrubbed and illiterate, I would assume—a word which here means "know for sure"—that you have never had so much as a non-confectionery PayDay. Nonetheless, A Series of Unfortunate Events (HarperCollins, 1999–2006; available at your local bookstore!) is a prime example of this kind of misery.

Yes, I, Lemony Snicket, am the author of this incredibly depressing (and best-selling) series of books. These books document the story of the Baudelaires, orphans have lost all of their wealth, in this case in an unfortunate fire. It is the worst kind of tragedy when people lose their wealth. Oh, and their parents died as well. This is something nobody wants to experience. But these children did.

300

You know the movie 300 (2006)? That wicked awesome movie with bloody Persians? Well, I, Lemony Snicket actually acted as King Leonidas in that scene where he yelled "THIS IS SPARTA!!!" I was the stunt double for Gerard Butler who, in reality, barely mustered enough strength to even talk in the scenes where he acted as Leonidas.

The Sebald Code

Dr. Gustav Sebald. I am far more suave than him as well.

The Sebald Code is, as I'm sure you know, a secret code used by Volunteers to send secret messages to each other. The Sebald Code is used between ringing noises. Every eleventh word after the first word is used for the code. If you are not a volunteer, disregard those last sentences.

I believe at this time it is worth putting an excerpt from the script of one of my favorite films, The Gloomy Ghetto, by Dr. Gustav Sebald, or some fraud who may be pretending to be him who knows the Sebald Code, which has a little too many explicit language or so.

Alphonso: Bitch, I pop a cap in yo ass.
<cell phone rings>
Bitch: This cell phone is mine, sorry.
Alphonso: Cell phones suck. I once read an article in some magazine about how bad they suck.
Bitch: They don't sucks, foo!
Alphonso: BITCH!
<shots ring out into the night, Alphonso's phone rings>
Alphonso: Uh...
<audience laughter, applause. Alphonso exits stage right.>

Did you see the secret message? Did you really? Indeed, this article does seem to "suck", and it would perhaps be best for you if you left right now.

Lemony Snicket, the Foodstuff

A Lemony Snicket, piping fresh from the bakery. Be still, my woeful heart.

I'm sure many of you reading this article have heard the expression "to bite the dust". The phrase, of course, is figurative. Figurative is the opposite of literal - a word which here means "I mean what I say, bitch" - and, as such, "to bite the dust" does not literally mean to consume or chew any amount of dust particles. The phrase, figuratively, means to "fall to the ground, wounded or dead". While it is debatable whether the figurative or literal meaning of the word are a more unpleasant experience, it is agreeable that both are not desirable. And although one's dust allergy could certainly make both a worse experience, both are far more acceptable than the repulsive experience of reading this repugnant article.

Unless you are some kind of dust fanatic, I'm sure you would find biting into something sweet and delicious that came by Very Fast Delivery more delightful than biting into dust or reading this article. One such treat would be the Lemony Snicket. A sumptuous dessert made with lemons, beets, xylophone, a wild snicket, and a large amount of powdered sugar, the Lemony Snicket is a delectable dish to serve a large party during a gregarious social gathering - a word which here means "a gathering of people" - or perhaps to poison an important diplomat from a strange, far-off land. I have eaten many Lemony Snickets in my time, as well as lots of Double Chocolate Chip Ice Cream, yet no matter how many sugary food items I have eaten they will never be able to mend my perpetual melancholy.

See also

• A Series of Unfortunate Events
• C.S. Lewis
• Fortune
• Misfortune
• Depression
• Emotional People(in a way that their emotions are most pessimistic)
• A video of me telling a rather funny joke

This See Also section is, like this article on a whole, cheerless and somber. Although it is my despondent doom to record my life and the life of the Baudelaires, it is not too late for you to... Oh, wait. Nevermind. It is too late for you to leave, because you have completed reading this article. I suppose now you will become a dejected and grief-stricken person, like I once was until I found a kind of drug or something to be bad. Don't say I didn't warn you.