Original subtitles

If you are interested in stories with happy endings,

then you would be better off somewhere else.

In this story, not only is there no happy ending,

there is no happy beginning, and very few happy things in the middle.

My name is Lemony Snicket.

It is my solemn duty to bring to light the sorry history

of the Baudelaire children as it happened so many years ago.

But you in the audience have no such obligation,

and I would advise all our viewers to turn away immediately

and watch something more pleasant instead.

This story will be dreadful, melancholy and calamitous,

a word which here means "dreadful and melancholy."

That is because not very many happy things happened

in the lives of the Baudelaires.

Violet, Klaus and Sunny were intelligent children.

Charming and resourceful, they had pleasant facial features,

but they were extremely unlucky.

Most everything that happened to them was rife

with misfortune, misery and despair.

I'm sorry to tell you this...

...but that's how the story goes.

Briny Beach, please.

The Baudelaire family lived in an enormous mansion

at the heart of a dirty and busy city,

and one day the parents rather unexpectedly asked their children

to take a rickety trolley alone to the seashore.

I wonder why Mother and Father didn't want to come with us.

Maybe they don't like this rickety trolley.

"Rickety" is a word here which means

"unsteady" or "likely to collapse at any moment."

Hey, kids! Aren't you going to the Festive Fun Fair,

with all the jolly rides and games and snacks?

"Festive" means "fun."

We know what "festive" means.

Thank you, but it's a perfect morning to go to the beach.

-It's gray and cloudy. -That's what makes it perfect.

Suit yourself.

When Briny Beach was hot and sunny, the seashore was crowded with tourists

and it was impossible to find a good place to lay one's blanket.

On gray and cloudy days, the Baudelaires had the beach more or less to themselves,

so they could work together on their projects and experiments.

-Are you ready? -Let's get to work.

Do you think this will be as good as the mailbox?

I think this will be even better than the mailbox.

Violet Baudelaire was the eldest Baudelaire child.

She was 14 years old, right-handed,

had a real knack for inventing and building unusual devices.

I'm having a problem with the grandfather clock.

Can you show me what the specific issues are?

See? It toasts the bread,

but the minute hand falls behind five minutes.

It could be a problem with the gears.

That'd be disappointing. I made them myself.

When Violet Baudelaire tied her hair up like that,

it was a sure sign that the pulleys, levers and gears of her inventing mind

were working at top speed.

Klaus, at what angle are the prevailing currents?

The angle of the prevailing currents...

Klaus Baudelaire was the middle child and only boy.

He was a little older than 12 and wore glasses,

which made him look intelligent.

Of course, we still need the right projectile.

He was intelligent.

Violet, I'm not sure I understand this passage of Proust.

Could you read it to me?

"Happiness is beneficial for the body,

but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind."

It could be the translation.

Maybe it makes more sense in the original French.

Sunny, do we have the right projectile?

Sunny Baudelaire was an infant,

a word which here means "a person of the age

at which one mostly speaks in a series of unintelligible shrieks,"

so most people had trouble understanding what she was saying.

What Sunny lacked in communication skills, however,

she made up for with the size and sharpness of her four teeth.

That's perfect, Sunny. Thank you.

Excuse me, Violet, but why are you using your left hand?

I'm curious to see if I can skip the rock

as far with my left as I can with my right.

I don't mean to criticize,

but standard scientific method calls for stable systematics.

You should use your standard right-handedness.

That does seem reasonable.

Klaus, what's that thing Einstein said?

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.

It is the source of all true art and science."

And what's that thing James Brown said?

"I got something that makes me want to shout."

"I've got something that tells me what it's all about."

"I'm super bad!"

It worked.

I never expected otherwise.

Yes, the invention worked.

This would be a perfect time to leave

and pretend the rest of the story was just as happy and successful.

I just wish Mother and Father had seen it.

It's not like them to send us off on our own so unexpectedly.

Certainly, I wish I could go back

and change the history of the Baudelaires at this very moment

rather than the descent into misery, tribulation and...

dire inconvenience which will occur shortly.

It only seems scary because of all the mist.

It's Mr. Poe.

From the bank? What's he doing here?

-How do you do? -How do you do?

Fine, thank you.

It's a nice day.

It is a nice day.

I have some very bad news for you children.

Your parents have perished in a terrible fire.

They perished in a fire that destroyed your entire home.

I'm very, very sorry to have to tell you this...

my dears.

"Perished" means "killed."

We know what "perished" means.

Hey.

I have spent months of research and years crying myself to sleep,

trying to discover the precise cause of the Baudelaire fire.

But... all my associates and I have managed to learn

is that neither the official fire department

nor the volunteer fire department arrived in time to stop the blaze.

And within moments, the entire Baudelaire mansion

was engulfed in flames.

It is useless for me to describe to you how terrible Violet, Klaus and Sunny felt

in the time that followed.

If you have ever lost somebody very important to you,

then you already know how it feels.

And if you haven't... you cannot possibly imagine it.

I've never been through anything like this myself,

but I can imagine just how you feel.

I did think you'd want to see what remains of your home,

even though it is... more or less, um...

It's all gone.

I just want to assure you Baudelaires that you have absolutely nothing...

We have absolutely nothing.

...to worry about.

I am the executor of your parents' estate,

which means I'll be handling all matters concerning everything they left behind.

What did they leave behind?

Financial security.

Your parents left behind an enormous fortune,

which will be yours when Violet comes of age.

Until then, you will be placed with the proper guardian, or guardians,

as decided by myself and my fellow bankers at Mulctuary Money Management.

Say goodbye, Baudelaires.

Goodbye.

Until we've identified your designated guardian,

you'll stay with my family.

That's not so bad, is it, Baudelaires?

I'm sure you'll become fast friends with Edgar and Albert.

- It's a raven. - It's a crow!

-It's a raven! -It's a crow!

It's chicken. Boiled chicken.

And we have boiled potatoes and blanched string beans.

What does "blanched" mean?

-It means "boiled." -Nobody asked you.

Now, now, son.

No, my darling, Albert is right. Nobody asked the Baudelaires.

But, honey, look!

Dearest, maybe not in front of the children.

But I thought it would cheer them up, the little Gloomy Guses.

I had my star reporter write an article for the front page

so that everyone will know

your home was destroyed and you're orphans now.

The front page!

Some people wait a lifetime for that.

And darling, look... you're mentioned, too!

"Generosity shown by prominent member of the banking community."

If your bosses at the bank see this, it may spell

P-R-O-M-A-T-I-O-N!

-Promation? -Promotion!

- No, that's not how you spell "promotion." - Promotion.

-P-R-O... P-R-R... -P-R-O-M-A-E-O--

-See? I've been saying it-- -Honey, P-R-R...

Listen to what I'm saying...

-I'm sorry. -...before you start speaking!

- P-R-O-- - I don't... feel very hungry.

May we go to our rooms?

"Rooms"?

-Good night, Edgar. -Good night, Albert.

-Good night, Albert. -Good night, Edgar.

And good night, guests.

You must feel terrible, and you must miss your parents very much.

We do.

You do what?

Say it.

We feel terrible, and we miss our parents very much.

That's gonna make a wonderful headline.

Good night, Baudelaires. Remember, our home is your home.

But don't touch anything.

How'd you do it?

Do what?

Set the fire.

In the years since, I've inquired what became of the Brothers Poe.

One followed his father into the world of banking.

The other lives in a cave and talks to sheep.

They each think the other has it better.

I regret to inform you, the Baudelaires' fate was worse.

Chop-chop, Baudelaires!

Now that I've found you a suitable guardian,

I'm going to take you to your new home before banking hours begin.

I know you must be nervous about living with a guardian.

I remember how I was when I was your age.

We're all different ages.

Well, I should think at least a fraction of your unhappiness

will turn to excitement when you meet this man.

I know he's certainly very eager to meet you.

And he's employed as an actor, so you know his excitement is genuine.

His name is Count Olaf.

-Never heard of him. -He's either... Let's see. What is it?

Your third cousin fourth time removed, or your fourth cousin three times removed.

In any case, he's removed.

Still, he's only three miles away, and your parents' will was very specific

about your being raised by your closest living relative.

Does he really think that's what "closest living relative" means?

-Mr. Poe? -Hmm?

If he lives so close by,

why didn't our parents ever invite him over?

Possibly because he was very busy.

As a banker, I'm often very busy myself.

Which is why this guardian drop-off is going to be a bit hasty.

"Hasty" means "quickly," because I'm due at the bank soon.

We know what "hasty" means.

Hello there! Salutations! Shalom!

You must be the Baudelaire children!

Yes, I'm Violet Baudelaire,

and this is my brother, Klaus, and this is my sister, Sunny.

And this is Mr. Poe. He's been arranging things for us.

Mulctuary Money Management. My name and title are on the card.

Although I may be in line for a promotion, so that might change.

Oh, well, I am Justice Strauss of the High Court.

Forgive my not shaking hands, but as you can see,

I am a mountain of parcels.

I just bought a new toolkit because my food processor broke.

Although I don't know who I think I'm kidding,

because I have no inventive or mechanical skill whatsoever.

Then I treated myself to new file cards for my private library,

and frankly I don't have an acute literary sense.

And then, to top it all off, I forgot to buy a new bread knife.

It means I have no possible way of cutting up this baguette

into bite-sized pieces,

which is really unfortunate

because I was gonna take the bread that was cut up

with a white bean hummus--

We'd be more than happy to be of assistance, Justice Strauss.

My sister is very mechanically minded, and I'm quite adept at library science.

What my sister means is her teeth are perfect for slicing bread.

Well, how wonderful!

How lucky am I to have such unusual children in my life?

Are you Count Olaf's wife?

What?

Oh! Oh, no!

No. No. Goodness me, no.

No, I don't even really know him that well.

He's... he's just my neighbor.

His house is over there.

That's strange.

He said specifically he was waiting very eagerly to get his hands on you.

Oh.

Hello. No.

Hello.

Hello, hello, hello.

Hello. Hello.

Hello, hello, hello, children.

I am Count Olaf, the renowned actor and your new guardian.

You're welcome.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Please, come in, and mind you wipe your feet on the mat

so you don't track in any mud.

And don't forget your enormous fortune!

Welcome to my humble home, orphans.

And...

-a man with a hat on. -Poe.

Actually, I'm about to be rather wealthy. So if you'll excuse me--

No, we spoke on the phone. I'm from Mulctuary Money Management.

Hmm. "Money" sounds familiar, but--

The bank. I'm from the bank.

Ah, yes, the bank.

Well, welcome to my humble home.

It does seem to need a little work.

Well, I realize it's not as fancy as the Baudelaire mansion,

but perhaps, children, with a bit of your money,

we'll be able to fix it up, make it nicer.

Count Olaf, the Baudelaire fortune is not to be used for such matters.

The Baudelaire will is very specific as to how the children are to be raised

in case of an unfortunate event.

Ah, yes, the fire.

They're to be raised by their closest relative.

That is I, Count Olaf.

And every cent of the Baudelaire fortune is locked up until Violet comes of age.

- Which one is Violet? - The eldest.

All right, then.

Well, I hope I can prove myself to be the father you never had.

We had a father.

Yes, I know. And a mother.

Remarkable woman. Flammable.

So, Poe, do I need to sign for them or something?

What? No. No.

Well, then, as we say in the theater, exit stage right.

Goodbye, Violet. Goodbye, Klaus. Goodbye, Sunny.

I hope you'll be happy here. I'll still check in on you occasionally.

If you need anything or have questions, you can reach me at the bank.

Well, children, before I give you a tour of your new home,

aren't you going to say "How do you do?"

to your new guardian?

How do you do?

How do I do?

Better and better, Baudelaires.

Better and better.

The dreadful villainy of this vile fiend

has haunted me since I first met him as a young man.

And every night when I continue my work on the Baudelaire case,

I find myself weeping thinking of his utter wickedness

and severe lack of theatrical talent.

-Do you know what this is? -It looks like a list.

Wrong! It's a list. A list of chores.

Rich brats like you are probably spoiled rotten

and have never done a chore in your life.

Actually, we often help around the house.

Really? Did you help around the house? That's great.

Well, welcome to your lucky life.

Come with me, and I'll show you the delightful features of your home.

This is the kitchen, where you may help yourselves to meals.

I expect you to keep everything gleamingly clean.

"Gleamingly"?

Clean.

The stove is a bit like a servant.

You have to whack it sometimes...

...to get it to work.

This is the library, which you will keep well-dusted.

This is where I do all my reading.

I don't use the ballroom at all.

You'll have to redo the floors.

Laundry room. You can hang my underwear on that rack when you're done washing it.

This is the backyard, which needs weeding, mowing and pruning.

It is also where you will chop wood.

Bathroom number seven, the only one you are allowed to use.

It has all the usual amenities,

though the management regrets to inform you

that the shampoo is not tear-free.

If anything, it encourages tears.

Rats bite.

And this is where you will sleep, orphans.

Out of all the numerous bedrooms in this enormous mansion,

I have chose this one for your safety and comfort.

There's only one bed.

As you can see, I have provided, at no cost to you,

this complimentary pile of rocks.

Thoughts?

Thoughts? First of all--

First of all, first impressions are often wrong.

Very true.

For example, your first impression of me may be that I am a terrible person.

But in time, Baudelaires, I hope you'll come to realize...

you haven't the faintest idea.

I'll give you a moment to unpack.

It's okay, Sunny, he's gone.

He's horrible.

Did you see the tattoo on his ankle?

A tattoo is just a decorative pigment on skin.

It's not a sign of a wicked person.

Unless it's on a wicked person.

How could our parents put us here?

It's just a mistake. It'll get sorted out.

Until then, we'll make this our home.

Mother used to say, "Home is where you hang your hat."

But we don't have any hats.

Just rocks.

Klaus, have you read any books on people who make homes in difficult places?

There's a village in the Pacific Islands

suspended on ropes above an active volcano.

How do they manage?

They own very little in case it erupts.

Then we're already one step ahead.

We own nothing.

If they can survive that, we can survive Count Olaf.

Showtime!

Remember, if you work extra hard, you get to go to the ball... room...

which is even grimier.

Hang on to your toothbrushes.

You'll need them for your teeth.

Stay here. And not a peep.

You're a little old for a Girl Scout.

I'm Justice Strauss.

Doesn't ring a bell.

I'm your neighbor. I... I live across the street.

You've done something different to your hair.

May I come in?

Is this about the children?

I apologize for the noise. I told them to cry using their inside voices.

-What? -Hmm?

I... I just thought I'd stop by and see how they're doing.

I know it's a little soon, but I'm about to become very busy

with a difficult case in High Court.

I'm not supposed to talk about it,

but I can tell you that it involved an illegal use of someone's credit card...

and a poisonous plant.

I made them this lamb.

How neighborly.

I don't mean to seem like a lonely woman

who's overinvested in the lives of someone else's children...

You do have that aura.

Perhaps if I just pop in for a quick hello--

- Now is not a good time. - They're in one of their moods.

They seemed so sweet.

Do you have children, Justice Strauss?

Me?

Oh, no. No.

No, I always hoped I would, but I'm married to the law,

and you can't very well have book babies...

now, can you?

Well, you dodged a bullet.

Let me tell you, those children are monsters.

I open my home to them, and all they do is complain.

"The bathroom is filthy.

The rat is noisy. The bed is cramped."

I think living in a mansion has spoiled them.

Well, they did just lose their--

Did you say "bed"?

I meant "bed" as in "more than one bed," obviously.

The plural of "bed" is... "bed."

Well, I wouldn't know. I live alone.

No kidding.

At least give them the lamb.

I made my own mint jelly and...

Please, just ask them if they'd like to see me.

Fine.

But wait here, for your own safety. They tend to throw things.

You missed a spot.

Oh!

They don't want to see you.

Are you sure? What did they say?

"The lamb was too salty."

Rich kids.

Oh... I see.

If only Justice Strauss had been able to get past Count Olaf,

if only she'd seen the children in their horrible circumstances,

if only this world weren't such a wicked and topsy-turvy place...

this story might have turned out differently.

I never wanna use a toothbrush again.

Why aren't you cleaning? My list was very specific.

We finished it.

No, you didn't.

We even washed your underwear.

You missed one.

You still have to prepare a large meal for myself and my theater troupe.

We don't know how to prepare a large dinner.

Plan the menu, purchase the ingredients,

prepare the food, set the table, serve dinner, clean up afterward,

and stay out of our way.

How can we purchase anything? We don't have any money.

Do you know what that is?

-Something greasy. -Money.

Hard-earned money.

The most important substance on earth besides applause and lip balm.

Since the bossy banker won't let us use any of your parents' enormous fortune,

I am now forced to cough up my own earnings

from theatrical performances and the occasional bit of consulting work.

Now... quick. Get a move on.

The troupe will be here at 7:00.

And in the meantime, I will be up in...

Can you guess?

Your secret tower room?

Wrong! My secret tower room.

Which you are forbidden to go into. Understood? Forbidden!

-Forbidden. -That's... Yes.

How are we supposed to make dinner for an entire theater troupe?

We start with a recipe.

Do you think Justice Strauss' library has any cookbooks?

Baudelaires. I wasn't expecting to see you.

We meant to come sooner. We've been cleaning.

Yes, Count Olaf told me you were very particular about that.

I hope you appreciate how much he's doing for you.

I wouldn't say "much."

Well, perhaps not compared to what you're used to.

What can I do for you?

Actually, Justice Strauss, we really need your help.

You do?

My sisters and I were wondering...

Wondering what?

If we might use your library.

If you might use my library.

Is there any book you're looking for in particular?

A cookbook, so we can make dinner.

I suppose anything but lamb.

Well, my private library is open to you whenever you'd like.

It's mostly law books, but there are sections on everything

from Italian cuisine to the world's most threatening fungus.

I suppose it's not as nice as the libraries you're used to, but...

-It's marvelous. -It's wonderful.

Do you really think so?

That means she likes it.

Well, I'm so glad.

The cookbooks are over there in Section G,

and right here is my favorite table for serious research.

Do you have a paper and pencil to take notes?

Always.

- What's that? - It’s something my parents had.

-What is it? -I don't know.

Hmm.

Something, Klaus Baudelaire, is ringing a very faint bell.

A library is like an island in a vast sea of ignorance.

Don't you agree?

I do. Particularly if the library is tall and the surrounded area has been flooded.

That's a very good point.

These books look promising.

Klaus, help your sister. Let me see what I can find here.

I think I found something. Pasta puttanesca.

I wonder what that means in Italian.

All we have to do is sauté garlics and onions in a pot,

and then add olives, capers, anchovies, diced parsley and tomatoes to simmer.

We still need the pasta.

I saw a pasta machine in Count Olaf's kitchen.

-Looked broken, but I think I can fix it. -What do we have here?

Justice Strauss?

-Yes? -Is there a supermarket nearby?

Oh... no.

But there is a local open-air market and gin distillery.

Thanks again for taking us.

I don't know what we would have done without you.

Oh, you're resourceful children.

I daresay you would have thought of something.

I think it's nice that you're cooking dinner

for Count Olaf and your new theatrical family.

I had dreams of becoming an actress, you know.

An actress and a mother, instead of ending up

as a world-renowned member of the judiciary...

and in a series of strained, platonic relationships.

Baudelaires?

I always find cooking for family to be something of a mitzvah.

Do you know what that means?

-Commandment? -Blessing.

You children have had such sorrow in your lives already,

you deserve the blessing of a new family with Count Olaf,

and, if you don't mind my saying so...

with me.

We don't mind your saying so.

Klaus, what's that thing James Brown said?

"I feel good."

And a one, and a two, and a...

Yes, we've met.

Orphans...

...this is my theater troupe.

-Hi. -Hi.

- Hi. - Hello.

And as anyone in the theater knows, after a grand entrance,

the audience is supposed to applaud.

"Applaud" means go like this.

We're not an audience.

No, orphans, you are not.

But we have been preparing an exciting new production

that, on opening night, will change your life.

All of the artistic and financial aspects of my career are finally coming together

like two pieces of a bread in the middle of a sandwich.

What my sister means is that--

I don't care what she means.

I don't have time to learn a second language

besides whatever it is I'm speaking right now.

In any case, we demand congratulations.

Congratulations.

A big round of applause.

And the delicious meal that you promised myself and my troupe.

You know, every time she talks,

it's like the tines of a fork are being jammed into my--

What my sister means is, dinner will be served shortly.

What are we supposed to do until then?

-We could wait patiently. -How about some wine, Olaf?

Yes, yes, wine. We had that nice rosé last time.

It wasn't rosé, it was just watered down.

Okay, fine. I'll open up a box of the Merlote.

An associate of mine named Brillat-Savarin famously said,

"To invite people to dine with us is to make ourselves responsible

for their well-being as long as they are under our roofs."

But he was an 18th century philosopher and gourmand...

and these were three children with very little catering experience.

Nevertheless, the Baudelaire orphans snapped into action.

This pasta maker reminds me of the one built by Thomas Jefferson.

Will it work?

It will now.

I wonder if Count Olaf's troupe will enjoy this meal.

Mother said that actors will eat anything.

You've seen them perform. Would you call them actors?

They're all as talented as Count Olaf.

While they waited for the pasta to boil,

Violet sautéed the garlic, and washed and chopped the anchovies.

Klaus peeled the tomatoes and pitted the olives.

And Sunny banged on a pot with a wooden spoon,

singing a rather repetitive song she had written herself.

By the time it was time for the youngest Baudelaire

to chop the parsley with her teeth...

all three children felt less miserable than they had...

since they first came to Count Olaf's.

I think Dad would be proud of this sauce.

And I think Mom would be proud of how you made your own pasta.

Maybe we can make this our home after all.

Remember what Father said when he burnt the quesadillas?

Yeah.

"Better than nothing."

At times like these, surrounded by colleagues and cohorts,

gathered in fellowship for the purpose of plotting theater,

there's an eternal question that always springs to mind...

When are we going to eat?

Dinner is served.

-Wow, that was quick. -And it smells delicious.

I mean...

As I was saying, before the help interrupted...

there is no "I" in acting...

no selfish urges, no arrogance,

no ego, no vanity,

no dangerous overabundance of inflated self-regard.

There is only what the French call a certain... "escargot."

Mmm-hmm.

It is the first burst of applause when the curtain rises.

The second burst of applause

when the leading man glides out from the wings,

faces his crowd and recites the--

Soliloquy.

I'm... That's... His soliloquy.

It is the thrill of the 14th mandatory standing ovation.

I give and I give to my public

just as I give and I give to these orphans.

But sometimes, and every actor does this,

I ask myself, "Is it worth it?

Is it really worth it to chase an enormous fortune?"

Boss...

-Where's the roast beef? -What?

The roast beef.

We didn't make any roast beef. We made puttanesca sauce.

And homemade pasta.

What? No roast beef?

You didn't tell us you wanted roast beef.

Look at my guests!

They... they can hardly touch this revolting foreign food.

In agreeing to adopt you, I became your father.

And as your father, I am not someone to be trifled with.

You can't go easy on children. They need to be taught to obey their elders.

You asked them to make dinner.

And all they did was slap together some disgusting sauce.

That's what happens with wealthy kids. Money is really a corrupting influence.

Well, let's not get carried away.

Hmm. You're a pretty little one.

I demand that you serve roast beef to myself and my guests!

We don't have any. We made pasta puttanesca.

- Sunny! - Put her down.

Alas, poor Sunny.

Let her go!

Oh, oh.

This table is a mess. There's hardly a place to put down a baby.

Sunny!

We're leaving for rehearsals.

But the baby said there was chocolate pudding!

Shh.

You children are to clean the table,

and wash the dishes, and polish the silver,

and rinse out all the wine bottles for recycling.

And then you are to go straight to your beds.

You mean our bed?

You've only provided us with one bed.

If you want another bed,

tomorrow you may go into town and purchase one.

You know perfectly well we haven't any money.

Hmm. Of course you do.

You three lucky orphans are inheriting an enormous fortune.

The money our parents left behind is not to be used until Violet--

The theater awaits.

- Are you all right? - No.

-This isn't. -What?

Better than nothing.

There are many, many things that are better than nothing.

A home-cooked meal is better than nothing.

A roof over one's head is better than nothing.

And a place to sleep,

even if the bed is very small and the blanket damp with tears,

is better than nothing.

But being raised in a violent and sinister environment

by a man more interested in one's fortune than comfort and well-being

is not better than nothing.

And as the Baudelaires would discover,

there are some things that even a long night of introspection

cannot change.

The Baudelaire orphans knew they had to find a way

out of their dreadfully unfortunate circumstances,

and, perhaps, solve the mystery of how they ended up in them.

I have the same dedication to researching and presenting this story

no matter what dangers it puts me in.

Trouble and strife can cover this world like the dark of night,

or like smoke from a suspicious fire.

And when that happens...

...all good, true and decent people know that it's time to volunteer.

-I'm worried about the children. -Me, too.

They're in danger, I know it.

We need to get to them.

We need to get out of here first.

What's that thing Einstein said?