Telegram for a Mr. Count Olaf.
It's just 'Count Olaf!' "Count" is my honorific; calling me "Mr." is not only redundant, it's an insult to my station. Who- [he opens the door, sees Jacquelyn and grins] Well, we meet again. You might want to ease up on the bronzer.
I hope you don't think you're going to Peru, 'Yessica Haircut'. [steps inside, closes the door behind her]
I find it helpful to leave the country now and then. See some ruins, wait for the manhunt to die down, eat some cuy.
You won't be eating any cuy, unless it's served in a prison cafeteria.
Why would I be eating in a prison cafeteria?
Because I'm taking you to prison.
Well, good luck with that. [pulls out his knife] I'm armed.
Hm. [pulls out a cleaver] So am I.
Child's play. [pulls out a machete]
Adorable. [pulls out a harpoon gun and holds it to his neck]
Is that a harpoon gun? [drops his weapons] You'd never use it. One of your great gifts is your eminent compassion. You wouldn't squash a spider.
I like spiders.
Well, that's good, because there's one on your shoulder right now.
I'm not falling for that!
No, no, I'm serious. It's on your left shoulder. It's one of the bigger ones; I wanna say 'tarantula?' [shudders]
You're not going anywhere, you snake.
You're forgetting, my dear Jacquelyn: snakes shed their skin!
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