Malice in Wonderland Prequel (13 page)

“Not literally. I was just mocking you.”

“Ohhh.”

“Now, I have come up with a solution for your ugliness until your hair grows out again. Guard!” One of the guard cards stepped forward, holding a wig of long black silky hair, which he handed to the Queen. “Ah, here we are. Now stand up on your crate so I can put it on you.”

After a few moments, the wig was adjusted upon Alice’s head.

The Queen handed her a pool cue. “Now let us begin the game, shall we? I shall break.”

Alice tried to remember the rules. What the Queen was doing was called racking the balls. All the balls started out in a triangle. She removed the rack. Next, the Queen would hit them with the cue ball, which Alice didn’t see on the table.

Reading her mind, the Queen said, “Ah, I have it right here. We shall play a slightly different game today.” She was reaching down at the side of the table. “I told you the Witch Doctor would be joining us, and here he is…” She brought up an object in her hand and set it on the table.

Alice squinted down, trying to make sense of it. It looked a most curious ball. It was not completely smooth and round.

She gasped. “Crikey! It’s the Witch Doctor’s head!” She stared in horror at it—the eyes were sewn shut, and it looked slightly more wrinkly than it had been when it had been normal-sized, but there was the bone in his nose, just like the one she wore.

The Queen sniffed. “It seems to be, yes. I’m glad he taught me the whole head-shrinking business. It
was
a bit tricky, but I managed well enough.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because he mouthed off to me.” She hit the shrunken head with her pool cue, and it rolled wobbily and hit the side of the triangle of balls with a thud. It obviously hadn’t struck where the Queen had intended.

“Oh bollocks,” the Queen of Hearts said as the balls lazily separated. “I’m afraid his head doesn’t make a very good ball. I had to put lead on the inside to give him some heft.” None of the balls had gone into a pocket. “But do the best you can my dear.”

“Oh I shan’t! He was my friend! He helped me!”

“He was a rude obnoxious jerk! Now you shall play, or you shall rue your disobedience. Now it is your turn! You must hit the cue ball.”

Alice struggled to hold back her tears and calm her frantic breathing. “Yes, My Queen.” She repositioned her crate then stood upon it again.

“Do you remember my lessons?” said the Queen.

Alice nodded meekly. Her lower lip trembled. She was thinking about the poor poor Witch Doctor.

“Go ahead, then, make your shot.”

Alice looked down at the head, then looked away. She couldn’t bear it.

The Queen encouraged while she pointed. “See that ball? You have a straight shot. Remember the poem?”

Alice nodded. Quietly she muttered:

“
Strike it straight on when you’re making your shot,

To make it roll in a path that’s direct,

Or strike at an angle at just the right spot,

To make it twist just like you’re snapping a neck!”

“That’s right. Go on then…”

Alice closed her eyes and wildly poked the cue sticky thingy out. It struck the cue head and then she heard a ball roll into a pocket.

She opened her eyes. She’d hit the ball in!

“Wow, you did it! With your eyes closed and everything! It must be beginner’s luck.”

“Can I stop now, Your Highness? I don’t like striking my former-friend’s head. It seems somehow disrespectful.”

“No, we can’t let your lucky shot be the last of it, can we? I want to see you miss one. Why you’re just an amateur. And here we’ll see it proven.” She pointed to the balls. “Now look where your cue ball head is positioned. Since you are now stripes, you must hit another stripe in, but look, the cue ball is against the edge there, see, and its way is blocked by all those solid balls. If you are to hit the stripe in, you must make the cue ball curve. Do you remember how?”

“Yes’m.”

“Very well. Now move your crate. There is no way you shall make this shot. You haven’t got the skill. But we must fail in order to eventually succeed, yeah?”

Alice set the crate down and stood on it. “Yes, My Queen.” She positioned the pool stick.

“Remember from the rhyme?”

“Yes. Strike at an angle at just the right spot, to make it twist just like you’re snapping a neck!”
She closed her eyes and struck out wildly with her pool stick.

The stick connected with the miniature head—she heard a bunch of balls clacking and bouncing and dropping into baskets.

The Queen exclaimed, “Impossible!”

Alice opened her eyes to see that she had sunk every single striped ball into a pocket. The shrunken head was in the middle of the table upside down and facing away from Alice.

Alice giggled. “Wow, that was easy.”

The Queen scowled and tromped over to Alice. “Give me that,” she said as she yanked the pool cue from Alice’s hand.

Alice yelped, “What?” in surprise.

“Your Highness does not wish to play this game anymore. Now begone with you. I’m tired of looking at your boney face!” In a huff, she grabbed up the shrunken head and stormed out of the room.

Alice sighed. She hoped she hadn’t hurt the Queen’s feelings by playing so well. She shrugged, then prepared to go about the rest of her rounds. She had a certain amount of creatures and people she had to visit each day. She hoped she could put a smile upon their faces, now that her dark thoughts had been stowed away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mad Hatter

When Alice was 11

Alice was going about her daily rounds of ridicule and humiliation. She had just come from her session with the Tweedle twins. She had to keep telling herself the twins didn’t know any better. It was a good thing that a couple years ago she’d stored all her hateful thoughts away in a voodoo doll, but slowly she’d been growing more dark thoughts, so she often had to remind herself to be nice to others.

Next up on her agenda was a visit with the Mad Hatter. He wasn’t as cruel as many of the other citizenss of Wonderland. Most of the time he merely liked to stare at her creepily. He’d requested that today she meet him at his hat workshop.

Alice had a bit of a soft spot for him. He was actually quite handsome and dashing in his exquisite hats, but he was also quite mad, from all the chemicals he used to make his hats, it was rumored.

She watched as the door of his workshop opened and the Mad Hatter came out, not wearing a hat on his head, but holding one in his hands, though. He looked more off his rocker than usual, in fact he looked outright raving mad. His eyes rolled about and his head lolled from side to side.

“Aaaliiicccee,” he said. “I’ve been awaiting anxiously.” He staggered toward her—he nearly stumbled.

“I say, Hatter, are you alright? You seem out of sorts.”

He was standing in front of her now, blinking rapidly while twitching. She could see now that his face glistened with a heavy sweat. “My apologies for being quite more mad than usual, milady, but I’ve been working on a very special hat. It required such precise calculations, exotic techniques, and such concoctions and chemicals, why…they seem to have really affected me!” He waved his free hand and twitched.

She looked down into the top hat—she was staring at the inside of it, lined with soft felt. “Is that the hat?”

“Yes!” he shouted louder than necessary. “If I don’t die, you shall wear it.”

She thought he might be joking, but when she looked in his eyes, he seemed serious. “Oh no, Hatter. Really?”

He nodded gravely and twitched.

Tears welled up in Alice’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t want you to die!”

“I want you to cry into it!” he screamed, sounding terrified.

“What?”

“Now!” Roughly he grabbed the back of her head and slammed her face into the hat. Granted it was soft, but still she gasped. Some of her tears were flicked into it. “There, there,” he said. “Yes, it shall all work now. I mustn’t panic.” Then he looked at her and his eyes went wide. “Ahhhh!!”

“What?!” She felt her face with her fingertips. “What is it?!”

He drew back and began looking madly about. “No! It’s all in my mind!” He sobbed and whimpered. He was so out of sorts that he dropped the hat.

Alice rushed over to him. “Calm down. It’ll be alright.”

The Hatter’s face was contorted in fear and he was shuddering all over. “Help me,” he whimpered. His legs gave out and he fell and sat upon the ground.

Alice felt so horribly sorry for him. She placed a steadying hand upon his shoulder as she kneeled. “It’s just the chemicals affecting your mind. Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

“It’s terrible! I don’t think I can stand it! Please…please…help me.” He looked at her with pitiful pleading eyes.

“How can I help?”

“Please,” he said, sounding like a small child. “Please just hold me…”

So she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “There there,” she said softly. She cradled his head. “Shh, it’ll be okay, sweetie.”

He wrapped his arms around her and whimpered as the shudders shook through his frail body.

And she held him tighter.

She rocked him from side to side as his shudders and sobs lessened.

The Hatter was quiet now, breathing evenly as she held him.

Alice said, “I love you, Hatter.”

He grunted.

“Do you love me?” she asked, feeling vulnerable.

“I think you’re very pretty.”

“But do you love me?”

He drew back and scowled. “Don’t ask silly questions.”

Alice’s shoulders drooped and she pouted at him.

He said, “Sorry about my temporary attack of madness. I’m much better now.” He was looking at the ground. “Now where’s my hat?”

Alice put one fist on her hip. “So what’s so special about that hat?”

He was dusting it off and grinning. “This hat, my girl, is a very special, magical hat specifically designed for you!”

Alice squealed. “Ooh! Is it a gift for me?!”

“I made it just for you!” He held it out to her. “Put it on, why don’t you!”

Alice slipped the hat on, but it was much too big for her 11-year-old noggin and slipped down to cover her eyes. Yet she didn’t want to hurt the Hatter’s feelings, so she made no mention of it, though she couldn’t see a thing. “Thank you!” she exclaimed as chipperly as she could muster.

She felt the Hatter tapping the top of the hat, which only further pushed it down upon her face—why, the tip was resting on the end of her nose!

“Hey!” she exclaimed.
I shall soon have to mention the discrepancy of this hat’s size! s
he thought.

“There,” said the Hatter, muttering more to himself than to anyone, it seemed. “The magic has been activated and focused on you. Your tears activated the magic.”

“What do you mean?” said Alice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see a thing.”

“Oh yes, I apologize. The hat is obviously much too big for you. I regret that you shall have to give it back. I shall wear it instead.”

“Give it back?!” She lifted the hat so that she could see, and so that she could glare at him. “But you only just now gifted it to me!”

“Yes, my apologies, but what are you to do with an oversized hat? No, you must give it back. And as you do so, I would like you to recite something. A little poem.”

“What poem?” she said suspiciously.

“Listen carefully so that you can recite it. It must be repeated exactly. I would like you to say these words:

“I give you this, my tuned in hat,

Encharmed with what my tears begat,

By carrying this gift, heartfelt and true,

You carry part of me with you.”

Alice’s jaws dropped slightly as she heard the words. “I daresay, those words are
quite
specific! Why, they almost sound like a spell!”

“A spell?” He laughed unconvincingly. “Ridiculous! I, um… Oh, don’t make such trouble for me! Can’t you just do this one thing for me, since I went to all the trouble to make this special hat for you?!”

“But you’re taking it back!”

Suddenly Alice was regretting having been given the hat at all!

“Please?” said the Hatter, and Alice felt a surge of what? Power? Opportunity? For she rarely heard the Hatter say the P word, so he must
really
want her to say his little poem.

She thought for a way she could take advantage of the situation. “I want another hug,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“If I say those words, I want you to give me another hug.”

The Hatter raised his finger and opened his mouth to protest, then shut his mouth. “Is that all?”

“Quite.”

“Very well,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.