by Lotus Rose
CHAPTER TEN
A Tea Party
So, Alice makes her way to the tree, where the March Hare, the Hatter and the Dormouse spend much of their time Tea-Partying.
When she is almost there, she yelps in pain from a stinging pain on her arm. She looks down to see several scratch marks along her right arm. They look like the claw marks from some sort of animal.
In panic she crouches, looks all around, but sees nothing. Now she realizes something must have scratched Malice. Alice watches her wounds begin to ooze blood.
She brings a handkerchief out from her pocket and does her best to attend to her wounds. At least they’re shallow.
She can think of nothing other to do than to continue on her way.
After about half an hour, she can see it. There is a table set out under a tree in front of a house, and the Hatter is having tea at it. The Dormouse is sitting next to him. The Dormouse is as usual, fast asleep, but Alice doesn’t see the March Hare, who usually sits to the the other side of the Dormouse.
The Hatter seems to be steadying himself with one hand resting on the Dormouse while he holds a cup of tea in the other. He is blinking rapidly and bugging his eyes out in a most peculiar way.
Alice, still feeling the effects of the spice, giggles at him.
The Hatter says, “Oh, no! Not again. It is quite rude to attend a Tea Party twice! Rude to all the other attendants, you see! Perhaps come back some time when we have some seats available?”
Alice looks around mockingly at the long table which has quite a number of empty chairs. She sees two custard pies just like the ones the Hatter had brought to the party resting on the table amongst all the fine china. She also notices that one of the chairs has been overturned, some of the cups knocked over, the table cloth seems crinkled and ruffled.
Malice must have been here!
Alice takes a seat across from the Hatter, knowing that it might be rude, but she is having a hard time balancing and focusing her eyes on the Hatter at the same time. He always looks mad, but he now appears madder than usual, and he has a long bleeding slash on his forehead.
The Hatter proclaims, “I gave the heart to you like you wanted. It’s rude to only pretend to leave, don’t you think?” He turns to where the March Hare usually sits. “Oh, yes, that’s right,” he mutters.
“What’s right?”
“He ran off after you tussled with him, of course.”
“I’m sorry, but that wasn’t me. You see, my reflection got separated from me, and well, she looks just like me, only my left side is on her right side, and vice versa. You know what I mean?”
“Like the Tweedles? Great. Just what we need. More twins!”
“Yes, so you gave her the heart?”
“Yes, but she said she doesn’t know how to put it back in, whatever that means.”
Because she doesn’t have the card.
He sets down his tea cup. “Excuse me.” He slaps his face. “Get yourself together, man!” He’s talking to himself. “Have you gone mad?”
Alice laughs. “I daresay you seem madder than usual.”
“Well, of course, you—I mean she made me eat my hat! I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you weren’t just here? Maybe it’s some sort of double vision I’m having. Why, I see two of you right now. So if I saw you before is that quadruple vision? Or triple?”
Alice is not about to try to figure out what that might mean. “I’m afraid that must just be your eyes. What do you mean, she made you eat your hat?”
“Yes, she rudely burst into our private tea party and started making demands that we hand over the heart I legitimately got from Humpty. She fought with the March Hare, who ran off and she forced me to lick my hat. I protested. The wearing of my hats is no problem, but the licking of them is not at all good. Well, she said she would cut me if I didn’t do it. She had a razorblade. And well, what could I do? I’m not a fighter. I prefer to watch the action, rather than dirty my hands with it. Filthy stuff, that action is. Then she took off with the heart, and now I’m probably going to die.” He looks mournful.
A bit of sweat rolls down his forehead, mixing with the blood of his wound. He seems to be sweating quite heavily.
Alice says, “Just from licking your hat?”
“Yes, well, she made me lick quite a lot, a lot more than usual. Usually I just bite the brim while I’m shaping my hats, and a wee bit of mercury and chemicals gets in, making me a wee bit mad. It’s quite inadvertent. I mean I don’t go around licking hats for no reason. Why that would be positively mad, don’t you think?” He’s trembling now.
Alice says, “You don’t look well.” She can’t help but smile a little, but she has no burning desire to see the Hatter die out of revenge. The Hatter might have been rude at times, but he was more of a nuisance who never engaged in the completely horrible things that the others in Wonderland used to.
The Hatter looks kind of swirly…like a pineapple cactus or something. No, wait, there isn’t such a thing. Or maybe there is, in Wonderland. It had been such a long time since she’d lived in the ordinary world where reality followed proper rules. Who knows, maybe if a gardener—
The Hatter clears his throat.
Mary realizes she has been kind of staring vacantly at him.
He says, “May I ask you a question?”
“Okay.”
“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”
“It shouldn’t be too much later, as I will be inconveniently indisposed being deceased.”
Alice can believe that. The Hatter is outright shuddering now.
The Hatter says, “So whose heart was it, anyway?”
Alice shrugs. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me what’s so special about your hat.” He’d always referred to it as his “very special hat”, but never said why.
The Hatter sighs. “Very well. There’s no point in keeping the secret anymore. And besides, I’m just dying to tell you.” He chuckles. “Sorry, a little bit of gallows humor. Yes, this my dear, is my voyeur hat. Why, I’m proud to say, I designed it expertly myself! It is exquisite for what it does! All I have to do is tap the top to make it work. Its only limitation is it can only be used three times a day. I can see your expression. What does it do, you wonder.”
Alice nods with an encouraging grin.
“Why I use it to watch you, my dear. Though, since I can only use it for short amounts of time, I try to get the timing right so I can view you when you are suffering.”
Her smile falters. “Suffering?”
“Yes, all the creative and delicious torments the creatures of Wonderland subject you to. Oh, how I love to watch! To see the exquisite agony on your face, to watch the tears roll down your cheeks, to hear you sob. Oh, you are so exquisitely beautiful in your suffering my dear. And that’s why this is the only hat I wear.” He gazes into her eyes. “Why you are the most beautifully suffering creature I’ve ever seen. Why I wish someone would torture you right now so I could witness your beautiful pain one more time before I die.” He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.
Alice says, “Well, what if I were to wear that hat?”
“Well, it’s tuned to you, but it would be silly to see yourself, don’t you think? Perhaps you would see your twin. Perhaps you could use the hat to get revenge on her? I mean, for my sake. Venge my death, won’t you, my dear?”
Alice’s grin grows huge. Why, the Hatter looks absolutely wretched at this moment. Why, it seems as if he’ll keel over at any instant. There are bits of sparkly pops of light in her vision, but she thinks that must be the lingering effects of the spice.
She waits for him to ask…
“So,” he says, “you said you’d tell me.” He coughs for several seconds. “So, who’s heart was it?” His voice sounds raspy.
“It was mine.” As his face registers fear, she nods. “Yes, I’m heartless now.”
He nudges the
Dormouse. “I say, my man, wake up. There’s a little girl you must maul.” The Dormouse doesn’t respond.
Alice doesn’t break her gaze with him. “You’re close now, aren’t you? You look terrible.”
“Yes. But we all go sometime, right?”
She nods. “Fancy a riddle?”
Mournfully he says, “Sure.”
“Why is a raven like my writing desk?” Alice asks.
“Are you going to tell me? I haven’t much time.”
“Because they both belong to the past and refer to what will be nevermore. A bit of a stretch I admit, but we both know you never intended the poem to have an answer.”
He nods sagely. “Ahhh…” His eyes begin to roll to the back of his head. “I do believe I’ll be dying now.”
“No wait! One more thing?”
“Yes? Go on then.”
She picks up a custard pie, lifts the hat off his head, and smushes the pie into his face. The timing is perfect and he slumps over face down on the table, his face still in the pie tin. He doesn’t move, so she assumes he’s dead.
She stares at him for several long seconds, then nudges the Dormouse. “Whaddya think of that, aye?”
The Dormouse doesn’t respond at all. Usually, he responds a little, in his sleep, then goes on sleeping.
Unsteadily, Alice stands up. She’s still quite out of it. She grabs the Dormouse by the back of the head (She misses the first time she tries, but gets it the second), then yanks his head up.
The Dormouse’s throat has been slit. Red blood has poured out over his body, but she hadn’t seen it till now.
She says, “Well that’s a problem, isn’t it?” She chuckles. She lets go of the Dormouse’s head and it plonks onto the table. She takes the Hatter’s hat and sets it atop her own head.
And even though she knows she’s inebriated and not thinking straight, she just gives in to the sudden impulse because, why not? After all, she’s been wanting to do this for so long, but never had the heartlessness to actually go through with it.
So she pushes the dead Dormouse and Hatter out of their chairs onto the ground. She puts her hands under the edge, then she flips the table, shouting at the top of her lungs, sending china flying.