“Poor Alice, she’s all wet…”
Hatter, raising his teacup into the air, paused in mid-thought. “Oh dear sweet Alice, she must have gotten into my mushrooms again,” he exclaimed, turning to the Dormouse, who was alternately nodding and shaking his head in agreeable disagreement. “Yes, that must be it,” Hatter continued, “She’s much too kind and beautiful to be confused all upon her own. That’s it, it must be the mushrooms!” Ah, but Hatter was forgetting to remember that Alice knew the Hookah Smoking Caterpillar and that it just might be that she shared a puff or two with him that was the cause of her joyful muddledness. Or perhaps, this being Wonderland, it was something else completely.
Meanwhile, Alice was hiding in the rosebushes, lying there in the most obvious wettest bliss, thinking, “I need to keep an eye on that Hatter or he’ll be off and starting the party again without me.” So she stood up and hoisting up her skirts and petticoats ran back to the Tea Party as quickly as she could, quite forgetting to put her moist panties back on. As she came upon the Tea Party she slowed down, parted the bushes discreetly and observed Hatter. He was holding up his latest oil painting, which the Dormouse was ignoring, seeing as he was sound asleep under the table. “Yes, yes,” mused Hatter, “Yes, this will do nicely. I’m certain Alice will be much pleased. My latest work of art should quell her confusion and stir her inner creative juices to new wonders.” Alice stared through the bushes at what Hatter was holding. “Oh yes, Hatter,” she thought, “How right you are!” She felt the waves rising again as she stepped from the hedge. They surged. “My goodness Hatter,” she laughed, “What have you done? Just look at me! I’m all wet and it’s not even raining!” He looked at her and knew it was so. And the Cheshire cat, fading back into view just smiled silently…
wiesbaden, germany september 20th 2011
© 2014 nightpoet all rights reserved