To My Kind Editor,
I am sorry this paper is sopping wet, but I am writing this from the place where the Quagmire Triplets were hidden.
The next time you run out of milk, buy a new carton at Cash Register #19 of the Not-Very-Supermarket. When you arrive home, you will find my description of the Baudelaires’ recent experiences in this dreadful town, entitled THE VILE VILLAGE, has been tucked into your grocery sack, along with a burnt-out torch, the tip of a harpoon, and a chart of the migration paths of the V.F.D. crows. There is also a copy of the official portrait of the Council of Elders, to help Mr. Helquist with his illustrations.
Remember, you are my last hope that the tales of the Baudelaire orphans can finally be told to the general public.
With all due respect,
Lemony Snicket