Jacques had been driving his taxi for a while. Of all his VFD covers (a word which here does not refer to the blankets on his bed, but to the things he does covertly, to hide his secret responsibilities) this is the one he has enjoyed the most, by far.
He takes great pride in his driving, in his ability to get everywhere the fastest way possible without doing anything to endanger the people in his cab.
He drives exactly the speed limit, he puts on his turn signals exactly 100 feet before every turn, he does everything he has to do. It’s one of his greatest prides.
So when his twin sister appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, laughter alight on her features, holding a small piece of plastic that looked suspiciously similar to his own taxi driver’s license, he knew instantly that he should be nervous.
“J, come here. I’ve got something to tell you,” In spite of telling him to come to her, Kit entered his room and sat herself on the edge of his desk.
“Later, Kit. I’m trying to decode this message right now,” Jacques gestured to the papers on his desk.
Now, dear reader, most of us would take that to mean that the person we are talking to does not wish us there at this time.
Kit Snicket, however, merely took it to mean that once it was decoded, her brother would be able to listen to her.
She leapt off the desk and pulled one of the pencils out of her hair, leaning over the words and circling through, pulling the message out of the letter swiftly.
“There,” She stuffed the pencil back into her hair and rested back on the desk, “It’s done! Now can you listen?”
Kit was often like this, over excited and determined and unlikely to let it go until she’d had the chance to fully explore it.
Jacques had spent enough time with his sister, from their time in the womb until now, that he knew this quite clearly.
So he sighed a little, looking up at his sister affectionately, “Shoot, Kit.”
She beamed and held up the piece of plastic she’d been carrying, a gleam in her eyes that usually foretold great danger, “I got a taxi driving license! I’m just like you now. It’s almost like we’re twins.”
He didn’t even have time to tell her that they were twins, he was too shocked by this new information, “What do you mean you got a taxi driver’s license? You have to have a normal driver’s license before you can get one of those.”
She shrugged, “I have a normal driving license.”
“No you don’t. You got the permit but never took the test for the license.”
“Well, I know that,” Kit tapped her fingers along the desk, already very wound up, “But Olaf helped me convince the people at HQ to make me one. Then Olaf passed the taxi driver’s test on my behalf, because when I walked into the DMV to try and get it they recognized me from when I was learning to drive and reminded me that I was banned for life. But still, I got the license! I’m a taxi driver now, just like you!”
In life, one can often find themselves at a loss for words. Even those who are members of secret organizations dedicated to literary pursuits can find themselves unable to fathom what words should come next.
And such was the state that Jacques was in, so overwhelmed by this that he left he simply stood up, gave his sister a smile, and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Olaf was laying upside down over the edge of his bed, trying to memorize a monologue for his upcoming audition, when someone threw his door open, grabbing his ankles and pulling him off his bed.
Now, dear reader, most people who were grabbed by the ankles with no warning would be rather disconcerted. But Olaf, as well as most other members of this particular organization, was rather used to it, and was merely concerned at the roughness with his new tattoo, a word which here means the deliberate and pigmented scarring of a person’s skin, often used to represent a belief or memory, or to identify fellow members of your secret organization, or at least it could be used to do that prior to a certain schism that left the two sides of it rather indistinguishable.
“Ow! Mind the tattoo, you cretin, it’s fresh, and you can’t just-Oh. It’s you. What do you want, Snicket?”
Jacques wound his arm up to punch Olaf, who held his hand over his face in defense and curled up a bit.
It was seeing this that reminded Jacques that Olaf was one of his fellow volunteers, was the man that his sister loved, and although he knew that with a few swift punches he could give Olaf a rather Vivid Facial Disfigurement, he merely dropped himself to the floor next to his old friend, running a hand over his face, “What were you thinking?”
“What do you mean what was I thinking?” Olaf rubbed the back of his head reproachfully, sitting up,“What were you thinking? You could’ve killed me.”
Jacques snorted, “I’m not that lucky. What were you thinking getting my sister a taxi driver’s license?”
“Oh, this is about that? Come on, Snicket, don’t be so dramatic. Just because she’s not as perfect as you are when it comes to driving doesn’t mean she won’t do fine.”
“Have you ever... Have you ever actually been in a car that Kit was driving?”
“Well,” Olaf paused to think about it, shrugging a little, “No. But so what? Unlike you, I have complete faith in her.”
“Then call her and hire her for a taxi ride. I’ll pay the fee. Just tell her you want to be one of her first customers because you’re proud of her.”
“Fine. I’ll call right now.”
And with a quick exchange of money, Olaf stormed out of the room.
Jacques didn’t follow, just waited for Olaf to return in an hour or so, laughing at the man’s misfortune.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jacques was still in Olaf’s room, organizing the drawers of his desk and the books on his shelves, when Olaf stomped back in.
The bushy eyebrowed man went straight to his bed and reached underneath it, pulling out a bottle of red wine and popping the cork off immediately, beginning to chug it before he even spoke, “Dear god, Snicket, how could you let me do that?”
“What’s wrong, Olaf?” Jacques joined him where he sat on the bed, laughing a little, “I thought you had complete faith in her?”
“I do have complete faith in her. Complete faith that she’s going to kill somebody! I mean who knew she was this bad?”
“I knew she was this bad, you idiot,” Jacques grabbed the bottle of wine and took a drink, shaking his head with the bitterness of both the drink and the situation, “There’s a reason she didn’t get an actual driver’s license.”
“Snicket, she drove through a police barricade because otherwise it would’ve added too much time to the drive.”
“Well, she’s smart. She’ll get better with time, but she’s never going to actually obey the traffic laws.”
Olaf grabbed the bottle back, downing half of it in a single gulp, “I always just thought you were too stuffy to drive like a real person. I mean, god, you won’t even break the smallest of the traffic laws. I’ve never even seen you jaywalk. I never realized it was because your twin soaked up all the rebellion that the two of you had to share when you were in the womb.”
Jacques just laughed and reached under the bed, knowing there was a bottle of something else there, grinning when he pulled up a bottle of peach schnapps.
“We just need to develop a system to make sure that neither of us ever half to ride with her again, yeah?”
Olaf nodded in agreement and took another drink, a thoughtful look passing over his face, “Should we warn Lemony?”
Jacques turned to him, the two making quick eye contact before shaking their heads and laughing, saying simultaneously, “No way.”
