“Poor Old Hatter, He’ll Never Learn…”

“Enough of this fooltommery,” exclaimed the Hatter, standing up suddenly, knocking over the table and sending saucers and cups, teas and pots flying everywhere. Alice jumped back, shocked. “I’m late, oh dear so very late!” he cried looking at his pocket watch for which there was no pocket. With a wave his hand, his hand turned into a paw and he into the Rabbit and he scampered quickly away, running through the freshly painted red rose bushes. And we all know how rabbits are. Alice blinked in amazement. Sitting on a toadstool nearby, the Caterpillar took a large draw on his hookah, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled a long slow cloud of smoke. He yawned. “See, I told you so,” he drawled slowly in Alice’s general direction. “He’s tired of tea and now he’s off to find carrots.” Alice thought for a long moment. The caterpillar yawned again. Then this wicked little smile spread slowly across her face. Her eyes sharpened and she pondered, “All I need is a carrot, a little bit of string and a very long stick!” Alice smiled, feeling very satisfied with herself for a second time that day as she danced off, petticoats rustling, through the freshly painted red rose bushes with mayhem on her mind…

Hatter had slipped away to find and then alleviate an overwhelming Obsession. Alice was insisting that the honey sweet nectar of the flowers in her garden would be so much better than just plain old tea. She was right you know, and Hatter certainly wasn’t offended as he gently stroked the head of the Obsession, now purring contentedly in his lap, alleviated. The only problem was that, having partaken of too much of Alice’s golden nectar, he ended up sprawled, streaked with red paint, amongst the rose bushes, sound asleep. Alice smirked quietly to herself as the Cheshire cat reappeared, smiling. “Poor old Hatter,” she thought, as she wiped up the spilt nectar, ” He’ll never learn…”

Yes, Wonderland is a very strange place, Hatter was dreaming, where passion flowers oozed with sticky emotion and that forbidden fertile valley was moist with the soft warm morning dew…

Hatter had been sitting at the table waiting patiently almost all the day long for Alice to return. She had scampered off much earlier in a flurry moaning something about returning later with a duckumentation. Now he’d heard the Jack of Hearts often talking about an ejackulation, he knew that when he was waxing eloquently that he was giving a resuscitation and he’d even seen the Red Queen screaming her head off several times about a decapitation, but he hadn’t a clue as to what Alice was going to bring back, though he was most curious. It sounded like some sort of fancy waterfowl. “And,” he mused to no one in particular, though the cups and saucers and spoons were all listening intently, “That is so very typical of Alice, to wander off and leave me in the dark. Humph!” Rabbit had bounced away earlier mumbling between his whiskers about rushmoons and garimolds and the Dormouse, having had a wee bit too much of the cooking sherry, was leaning with his head down, his face pressed firmly into the table, fast asleep, snoring in little sawtoothed squeaks. A fine tea party this is, thought Hatter, Rabbit is gone, Dormouse is plastered and Alice will probably return empty handed and tell me that it’s not duckumentation season and she could find none to be had. Poor Hatter, how he hungered so in secret, and now Alice was going to break his heart again. Poor old Hatter, he’ll never learn…

And he never did…

wiesbaden, germany      august 28th 2011


© 2014 nightpoet all rights reserved

Categories: Prose | Tags: | 4 Comments

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  1. No, I wish. It is one of the original illustrations for the first addition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Sir John Tenniel .

  2. Pingback: SUSPICIOUSLY SPREAD-EAGLED | nightpoetry

  3. Pingback: SMILES AND GRINS | nitepoetry

  4. how i enjoyed this…were you getting the cool graphics…love pen and ink

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