Count Olaf and the Incredibly Deadly Viper
A series of Unfortunate Events

Count Olaf was a particularly fussy person who hated a mess, so naturally, being an inquisitive type of dramatic person he was, he told himself squarely that the Baudelaire children were the least of his concerns. However he agreed that Uncle Montgomery had to go, and fast. Being assistant of a renowned herpetologist didn't stop count Olaf from squeamishly planning his biggest bravado ever: To release the Incredibly Deadly Viper out of his cage.

Now this is where I warn you that Count Olaf is not a professional snake hander, of which this term means 'an expert, astute and experienced adult who handles snakes.' As Count Olaf is neither an expert or experienced, this was a task of momentous agony for the wizened bumbling eccentric. He opened the cage, with a loud garish click. Unremarkably, the IDV just sat there, lazily flexing his jaws open, hopefully for a daily supper of grain-fed mouse and even more expectantly to be hand fed. Count Olaf stared at the size of the fangs, before gulping visibly, his weird eyebrows arched until you could see the perspiration, a term which means he was sweating visibly. The IDV just sat there, watching the spectacle as the Count tried to handle the huge slithery coils, lumping the scales onto the floor.

"Now, scatter," Count Olaf said dramatically, shooing the dark yet friendly snake into the corner of the room. He pointed at a poor imitation of 'Sunny' the biter Baudelaire toddler, a flour bag half filled with (well) flour. The flour bag had a somewhat simian smiley face scribbled hastily with an extra large black texta, it was incredible by Count Oaf's standards. The snake yawned and just slept, not in the slightest interested in the proceedings - at least until Count Olaf clumsily upended his shoe onto the snake's arched back. Now this is where the demonstration of 'professional' came into play, as the foolish and fortunate count Olaf found out. "OH BLAST!" Olaf gave the snake the ultimate stare down of a century, eyeballing it until the snake got fed up and hissed a warning. He threw his leather shoe at the poor thing. "Now, don't hurt me," said Olaf carefully, stepping backwards. This was unrecompensed, because firstly, snakes are deaf and cannot sense movements, except for slight vibrations. The gibberish sounds Olaf were making was nonsense to the exotic IDV, but it formed a blurry vision of a wrestling match somewhat.

The Incredibly Deadly Viper was filled with an unrecognisable rage for his species. And hence he reared up in enraged anger and the normally playful snake engaged Count Olaf in an INCREDIBLY DEADLY WRESTLE with its coils, hissing playfully as it attempted to bite Olaf on the nose sharply. Our dear count was not pleased, a word which meant 'terribly impressed'.