"Oh, you're quite welcome, friend," said the Rabbit. "But here, what's this about my lack of manners? I saw no breach, I'm sure."
"You drank the tea," said the Hatter. "That was quite serious, I'm afraid."
"You offered it to me! You asked me if I wanted any!"
"And you accepted, like a common savage. Really, now, that was beastly of you. If you had a polite bone in your body, you would have refused the tea! Hmph!" At this, the Hatter scooped up a saucer and tossed it at the Rabbit with all his might.
This time, the Rabbit was hit, directly on his furry chest. The blow knocked the breath out of him, and he had to take a moment to get it back. "Thank you," he said, gasping.
"Not at all," replied the Hatter. "Now then, when one is offered tea by one's host, one should obviously refuse."
"Why should one do that?" asked the Rabbit.
"Well, if one accepts, one must be grateful. One will then be in debt to the host, you see. That is hardly desirable, particularly if the host is a loan shark."
"How much in debt would one be, I might ask?"
"Oh, twenty quid or so. The amount compounds though, according to interest. Some bounders choose to charge forty or even fifty per cent interest on a simple tea debt. That is why one must be very careful at tea, and watch one's manners."
"Well, what if there is not one offered tea, but two?"
"Why, in that case, one must refuse and one must accept. The one with the longest name should refuse, of course; that way, they will be able to keep the host in line. Since it will take less time for the host to address the one with the shorter name before giving him his tea, he will naturally receive his tea sooner than the one with the longer name would. His tea will thus be warmer, and he will be able to throw it at the host if the host says or does something offensive. If the one with the longer name accepted the tea, it would be cooler, and less effective for punishing the host." The Hatter sat back and folded his arms, trying to look authoritative.
"Oh, balderdash," said the Rabbit, pitching a tea towel at the Hatter.
"Thank you," said the Hatter, as the towel smacked him in the face.
"Don't mention it," said the Rabbit.
At this, the Duchess spoke up. "Ho hum," she yawned, taking a sip of tea. "This tea is something of a drag, you know. It's all talk, talk, talk, drink, drink, drink, eat, edat, eat. If I'd known it would be like this, I would have stayed home and washed my hands."
"Oh, be a sport, now," said the March Hare. "Things will liven up shortly." The Hare was drinking from a large teapot, the spout sticking right in his mouth. "There are plenty of exciting things to do."
"Exactly," said Tweedledee, leaping to his feet. "We can always plot strategy. There are plenty of battles to be won."
"Yes," agreed Tweedledum, remaining seated. "There is Troy, and Hastings, and Bunker Hill. Oh, and that dreadful Spanish Armada."
"Those have already been fought," muttered the Dormouse, who was fast asleep in his chair.
"Well, we'll just have to fight them all over again, now, won't we? It will be such a glorious campaign," said Tweedledee, looking up and sighing.
"Look," said the March Hare, finishing the last of the tea in his teapot. "I think we are all missing the point, here. It doesn't really matter what we can do. What's important is what we can't do. You know, like the Ten Commandments and all that."
"Capital idea!" chimed the Hatter, hurling a teacup at the White Rabbit. "We'll make our own! 'Thou shalt not spill'."
"Yes, that does apply here," said the Hare. " 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's butterknife'."
" 'Honor your saucer and your butter'," added the Rabbit. " 'Thou shalt not steal extra sugar cubes'."
"What if the tea's too bitter?" interrupted the Duchess. "What if you need more sugar, or you simply cannot drink it?"
"Oh, that's no problem," said the Hatter. "Just fill out a form, in triplicate. Have it notorized by the proper authorities, and include a number of character references. Submit it to the host for approval, and file it with your local planning council for two weeks."
"Then what?" asked the Duchess.
"Then, you get your sugar, of course," said the Hatter.
"Unless you've been naughty," said the Hare. "Then we send you off to bed without any supper."
"You still receive the sugar, though," said the Hatter. "Provided you followed the proper procedure."
While they all went on in this way, Alice just stood in one spot and watched. She was afraid to approach them, lest they turn on her as all her other Wonderland friends had done so far. She stood and watched, hoping that they would not notice her, torn between watching some more and running away into the shadows. She trembled a little, and her head ached.
Just then, Tweedledee, who was still standing at the table, looked in her direction. Alice froze, sucking in her breath; their eyes met, and a broad, toothy smile popped upon his face.
"Oh, good!" shouted Tweedledee, clapping his hands. "More company!" Knocking over his chair, he bounded away from the table toward Alice.
"Well, I never!" snorted the Hatter. "I surely did not invite her! I detest gatecrashers!"
"I suppose I may have invited her," said the March Hare.
"What? You asked her to my tea, without my permission? How dare you?!" At this, the Hatter threw an entire tray of biscuits at the Hare, then hurled a butterknife at the White Rabbit as an afterthought.
"Thank you," said the Rabbit as the knife whacked his skull.
"Well," said the Hare, jumping away from the biscuit-tray. "I didn't tell her she couldn't come. I suppose the invitation was implicit."
"Hmph," huffed the Duchess, shaking her head in disgust. "We may as well fling open the gates and let in the rest of the hoi-poloi! Tea is no longer sacred, I see."
Tweedledee took Alice by the arm and led her over to the table. "Ladies and generals," he shouted, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture. "May I present...uh...um...what's-'er-name!" He took Alice to the chair at the head of the table, bowed, and motioned for her to sit down.
Nervously, Alice pulled out the chair and sat in it. "Th-thank you very much," she said, trying to smile.
"Why don't you just leave?" snarled the Hatter, scowling. "I mean, you were implicitly invited, but I really don't want you here."
"Now, now," said Tweedledee. "She's here now, and I for one believe she should stay. Besides, we need a little excitement at this tea, and she just may supply it, I dare say."
"Oh, very well," muttered the Dormouse, still asleep. "Let's get on with it, then, shall we? Have her make introductions, won't you?"
"Good idea," said Tweedledee. "Go ahead, dear. Make your introductions."
"All...all right," said Alice, still trembling in fear that things would go awry. "M-my name is Alice...," she said, standing up to face the other guests, "...a-and I am very pleased to meet you..."
"No, no!" screamed the Hatter, pounding his fist on the table. "That's not right at all!"
Alice cringed, wondering what she possibly could have done wrong. "What do you mean? H-how should it be done?"
"Oh, come now! Must I spell everything out?" The Hatter looked at Alice as if she were a dunce. "You were asked to make introductions. That doesn't mean you should introduce yourself! You already know who you are; we are the ones you must meet! The proper etiquette in this situation is to introduce us to ourselves! Really, now! It isn't that difficult!"
"It's done like this, dear," said the White Rabbit, standing as the Hatter sat down. "Duchess, meet the Mad Hatter. Hatter, meet the Duchess."
"Pleased to meet you," said the Duchess.
"The pleasure is all yours," muttered the Hatter, still upset.
"Now you try," said the Rabbit pleasantly, sitting back down.
"All right," said Alice, trying to remember everyone's name. "Um, March Hare, meet the Dormouse. Dormouse, meet the March Hare."
"Oh, don't bother with him," said the Hare. "He's alseep. It's really not pro
per to introduce someone who is asleep..."
"Especially if he snores," added the Duchess.
"Yes, especially then. Unless the other person is asleep, also. Then, I suppose it's permissible. Try again, hm?"
"I'm sorry," said Alice.
"I thought you were Alice," said the March Hare.
"I thought you were what's-'er-name," said Tweedledee.
Alice took a deep breath and started again. "March Hare, meet the Duchess. Duchess, meet the March Hare."
"Pleased to meet you," said the Duchess, not really looking very pleased.
"Likewise," said the March Hare.
Alice spoke carefully, hoping that she would not make any mistakes. "Mad Hatter, meet the White Rabbit. Rabbit, meet the Hatter."
"Glad to meet you," said the Rabbit.
"I'm not," mumbled the Hatter.
Alice felt that things were looking up. "Tweedledee, meet Tweedledum. Tweedledum, Tweedledee."
"What?!" screamed Tweedledee, at the top of his lungs.
"How dare you?!?" bellowed Tweedledum.
Alice began to panic. "W-what did I do wrong? Oh, please, I'm sorry!"
The Hatter sprang furiously to his feet. "Never, never introduce two brothers whose names begin with 'T'! Oh, don't you know a thing?!?"
"Little fool!" shouted the Duchess, shaking her fist at Alice. "Now see what you've done!"
"Oh, no!" cried Alice, feeling her Wonderland once more crumble around her. "Oh, please no! I'm sorry! Really! What are you going to do?!"
Tweedledee stepped away from the table, and Tweedledum did the same. Bothered, grim looks were fixed on both their faces.
"We must now kill each other," snarled Tweedledee, his voice icy.
"Yes," agreed Tweedledum. "Until now, we didn't know each other, for fear we might dislike one another. Our mother never introduced us, because she wanted us to get along properly. Other brothers fight and bicker so."
"But now, you've gone and blown it, thank you. We hate each other so much, there is no way out but death." Tweedledee and Tweedledum began to circle around like wrestlers, baring their teeth and growling. They were both quite fat, and dressed like schoolboys, so they really looked rather ridiculous; at the same time, however, they were somehow weird and horrible to Alice, and she was frightened once again.
"Oh, won't somebody stop them?!" stammered Alice, dreading what might happen next.
"No," said the March Hare, sipping his tea and watching the two opponents with an uninterested look. "I'm afraid not. You see, it's like a debt of honor. They are allowed to kill each other as many times as they want, and we cannot interfere, or they will lose face. That is a fate worse than death to a man of honor."
"Yes," said the White Rabbit, very seriously. "Your face just disappears, and your head goes all blank. Just hair and a chin, you know, and you can't eat or snore or anything. Just terrible."
Everyone seemed calm about the whole thing, except Alice. They just sat around the table, drinking their tea and watching, as if it were the most common thing in the world. This only unerved Alice all the more, and she started to shake and cry. She felt as if the whole thing were her fault, and the lives of Tweedledee and Tweedledum were on her shoulders.
"Oh, stop!!" she screamed, tears running down her cheeks. "Stop, stop, stop!!"
Tweedledee and Tweedledum ignored her. They continued to circle and growl, looking like wild beasts. Then, they both roared loudly and pounced on one another.
"No!!" screamed Alice, but it was too late. The fight had already begun, and it was obvious that the two boys meant to kill each other. Savagely, they beat each other, pounding their arms and chests and heads. They grappled like two roly-poly titans, gnashing their teeth and bellowing, battling to the end with all their power. Tweedledee rammed Tweedledum in the face, breaking his nose and instantly drawing blood; enraged at the sight of his own blood, Tweedledum lashed out, gouging one of his brother's eyes with his fingers.
Tweedledee stumbled backwards, confused and half-blind, and Tweedledum pressed the attack. He kicked the brother in his groin, twice, and laughed as he fell to the ground. Roaring mightily, Tweedledum plunged on top of Tweedledee, clawing and ripping as he moved in for the kill. Soon, there was blood all over the two brothers, and all over the ground as well.
"Oh my God!" cried Alice, horrified. She felt sick at the sight of all the gore, and had to turn away. "Oh my God..."
When she turned, Alice saw a smile hovering in mid-air, directly above the Dormouse. The smile was wide and toothy, and hovered in the air without any visible means of support. Alice recognized it immediately.
"Cheshire-cat!" she whispered, her voice catching and hysterical. "Oh, it must be the Cheshire-cat! Hellow there!" The Cheshire-cat was one of her best friends in Wonderland, one whom she loved the most; Alice held a last, faint hope that he at least would not let her down, that he would not have changed, that he might help her and stop the insanity.
She called to him, frantically, desperately. "Cheshire-cat! Oh, Cheshire-cat, please help me! Please make them stop! Help me!"
The smile got a little wider, but made no reply. Alice looked closely, and though that she saw something in its teeth. It was something red, she thought, but she could not tell what.
Then, suddenly, she realized what it was. She threw her hands against her ears and screamed, over and over. Wildly, she clamped her eyes shut and whirled away from the horrible sight.
It was blood. Below the cat's smile, the head of the Dormouse was gone.
Alice's head pounded and swirled. She felt as if she had lost her last foothold, and was plummeting down some long, endless chasm. It all rushed in on her, all the terror which she had experienced since coming through the mirror again; she remembered the unbearable screaming of the echo; the evil poetry of Humpty Dumpty and the sickening taste of his yolk as it smothered her; the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle, who told her that she would die, and tried to abuse her; and now this. The smile from the Cheshire-cat stuck in her mind, the blood on its teeth brigt red. She wanted to go home, more than anything, she wanted to go back to Tom and Queenie, to the safe, predictable drudgery which she had always taken for granted. She would give anything, anything, just to get away, just to go back...
While Alice screamed and cried, Tweedledee and Tweedledum continued to rip each other apart. They were lying on the ground in a squirming, bloody heap, tearing at one another with fading strength as they both began to die.
The smile of the Cheshire-cat continued to munch on the Dormouse, chewing bits of meat from his still-moving body. The teeth were now completely red.
Seeing all the carnage around them, the other guests could hardly be left out. Now they were fighting, too, throwing the table-settings and hot tea, beating each other mercilessly. The Duchess drove a butter-knife straight through the White Rabbit's heart, staining his snowy fur crimson; the Mad Hatter chased the March Hare with a huge carving knife. Everyone was shouting and shrieking and the place sounded like some horrible asylum.
And in the middle stood Alice.
She stood in one place, her eyes closed, her hands over her ears, and screamed. There was nothing left, nothing to hold onto; her beloved Wonderland was now mad, evil and utterly deranged. Her last refuge of sanity exploded, and her mind tossed like leaves in a waterfall.
Slowly, she sank to her knees. She felt it all falling away, all her memories and knowledge, her sanity, in little bits. Oh, she wished that she had never left Tom, never left Queenie...
Alice threw herself on the ground and shrieked. She beat her fists on the hard, cold surface.
Then, suddenly, she was gone.
*****
Chapter Five: Trial And Terror
When she opened her eyes again, she was in a huge courtroom. The table and chairs were gone, and the battling guest were nowhere to be seen. All the shouting had ceased, and she was surrounded by complete silence.
This time, Alice was too upset to worry about where she wa
s or how she had gotten there. Her mind was broken and reeling, and she no longer cared about anything.
Trembling, she dragged herself to her knees and looked around. Her eyes were wide and frantic and darted wildly from one point to another; she was half-crazed, waiting, watching for the next mad threat to jump out at her.
As she knelt there, however, none did. The big courtroom was silent and Alice was alone. For what seemed a very long time, she stayed in that one spot and watched, but nothing moved and no one appeared.
Slowly, in the stillness of the big room, Alice began to calm. Her spinning mind slowed, and the jumble of her thoughts began to fall back into place. Bit by bit, she crawled away from the insanity which she had been slipping into, and she felt a little less mad.
Her head felt like a nail being hammered into stone; it beat and throbbed so much that she could hardly stand it. Her eyes and face were burning with tears and her lungs hurt terribly; her entire body ached and she desperately needed sleep. She was exhausted, and had no idea how long she had gone without rest; in Wonderland, time had no meaning.
Eventually, as the silence continued and Alice collected herself, she pulled herself to her feet. Cautiously, she walked around the courtroom, taking in her new surroundings, watching for anything out of the ordinary.
It was a typical courtroom, as far as Alice could tell, except that it had no walls. There was a jury box on one side, and rows of benches along the other; at the head of the court was the high judge's bench, with a plush, velvet-covered chair behind it and the witness box beside it. At the other end of the room were a pair of tall wooden doors, standing by themselves, seemingly without any walls or frames around them.
Beyond the furniture, there was only darkness. There were no walls, just blackness stretching away as far as the eye could see. The courtroom seemed to be in the center of another circle of light, like those to which Alice had been transported before, surrounded by darkness on all sides.
Alice walked slowly around the courtroom, looking things over and trying to decide what she should do next. Somehow, she had to get back to the mirror and escape this nightmarish world; she had to get home.
6 More Fantasy Stories Page 11
