Author Topic: Tuesday's Blend , by SardonicSteve,  (Read 1276 times)

Offline DannicaAngel

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Tuesday's Blend , by SardonicSteve,
« on: April 23, 2010, 09:07:42 PM »
Intro: An experimental story depicting my interpretation of the Mad Hatter from Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland.

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The tea was awful today. No, not awful; gut-wrenching, vomit-inducing, like a drop of strychnine to the stomach awful. After one solitary sip, Hartfield Dorian Greyskies fell backwards into his great big arm chair and glared at the large, porcelain cup, staring at it as if it had committed some great offense to him. His eyes narrowed behind his stringy black hair. He lifted a thin hand and adjusted the slanted position his ridiculously tall hat had fallen in.
Hartfield, known throughout Wonderland as "The Mad Hatter", leaned forwards in his chair, and fixed a furious gaze across the mile long table. There were places set for at least a hundred and twenty two guests, and a teapot for each cup, with varying blends.
Today's blend, "the Tuesday blend", was proving to be an absolute disaster. He must have made a mistake when grinding up the tea leaves. He contemplated moving on to "Wednesday's blend" but decided that would throw him off schedule. Setting up this long table once every four months was too much work, and took too much time out of his tea time. Not that he worried about running out of tea time, it had been tea time for quite a while now, a quick glance at his pocket watch told him so.
Hatter closed his eyes, and opened them, giving his face an almost stoned-out, vacant-but-pissed off kind of expression. His shoulders were stiff, and raised to his very long neck, as he lifted the teapot and refilled his cup. The second cup was every bit as bad as the first, and he could feel his skin turning as green as the clothes he wore.
Like a spider drawing into its hole, his spindly arms and legs drew unto themselves, as his whole body seemed to convulse with the awfulness of the tea. His eyes bulged, and his teeth grit together. His cheeks puffed in and out, and his waist squirmed all over the chair as his limbs went crooked beyond control, causing him to form several awkward, and vulgar positions.
"GREAT GALLOPING JABBERWOCKY!" He cried aloud as his spasms reached their worst.
A large puff of steam exploded from his mouth, and blew out into the multi-colored sky. Out of breath and exhausted, the Mad Hatter collapsed back into the large red cushions of his armchair. He took another deep heavy breath and stared at the now-empty teacup through exhausted eyes.
"What was that?" He marveled, "That was....INCREDIBLE!!"
He leapt forwards with a sudden fresh burst of energy, his eyes staring greedily at the teacup.
"I've never felt such a source of screaming adrenaline! Such power running down my throat and piercing me at my very soul! BEAUTIFUL I SAY!! BEAUTIFUL!!"
Hatter was just about to reach to pour himself another cup, when a familiar pink and black striped tail appeared in the air, and with a mild flick, knocked the magical brew of Tuesday's Blend over, spilling its contents all over the white tablecloth, staining it. The rest of a very thin, very small, young man appeared attached to the floating tail, grinning wildly with all of his pointy teeth. Hatter's face fell, as he stared, horrified by what had happened to his beloved tea. He didn't even notice the tiny man dressed in rags, sitting on the teapot, as the nearly nude man's catlike ears twitched.
"Hello, Mr. Greyskies," The cat-man said, staring at Hatter with sparkling, green eyes, "Teatime again?"
Hatter was busy trying to save Tuesday's Blend, by wringing out pieces of the tablecloth back into the pot. He looked up at the cat-man with disdain, "Cheshire Cat! You have ruined the most wonderful blend of tea I've ever created! I may never have another cup like it! And for your information, it has been teatime since last we spoke!"
"Still six o'clock?" Cheshire Cat asked, tilting his head, that grin never leaving his face. He leaned forwards, stretching across the table, and purring. Each one of his ribs was clearly visible, on his near skeletal body.
"Geh," Hatter said, pouring a few measly drops of the tea into his cup, "It's always teatime. Time must be rather upset with me."
"Have you tried apologizing?"
"There is no time too, I have to have more tea."
"No time to apologize to Time," Cheshire Cat purred, sitting up, and curling his back, "Well, I could do it for you, if I were in the mood."
"Are you ever in the mood for anything besides meaningless conversation?"
The Cheshire Cat stood on top of the table, and rose a few feet into the air so that he hovered just inches above it. He looked down at Hatter with an even more excited grin, as impossible as it seemed. His eyes widened.
"Why, Hatter, all conversation is meaningless! Whatever do you think has been accomplished by just talking?"
Hatter had to concede. This was a very good point, even if it was made by a very confusing individual. He looked up at the cat to watch him twisting his joints around in the air, as if there were no bones in them.
"Showoff," Hatter retorted.
Cheshire Cat paused in the twisting of his spaghetti-looking limbs and stared down at the Hatter, "Well aren't you Mr. Boring? I'm off to find some fun, you should join me now while you have the chance."
"No time," Hatter muttered.
"Going once..."
"No time."
"Going twice..."
"No time! No time! No time!" Hatter began yelling, pounding his fists upon the table rapidly. The tea trays rattled with each pounding he made upon the linen cloth.
Instead of replying, the cat's body faded away, leaving, as usual, all but his grin behind. Eventually the grin faded, leaving only a set of eyes, that stared at Hatter. Hatter looked up at those eyes and gulped nervously. He clutched at his chest, feeling the empty space where his heart used to be.
"Something terrifying about that creature," he whispered, "Whatever he is, he is either the sanest, or maddest of us all."
"Innocence" he said, while his eyes fell away and slowly slid black irises to study the mist-laden woods around him.
"Losing your innocence, is like losing a limb."
The smile that appeared on his lips was neither cold nor warm - it was colourless.
"She crippled me"
"For that, I will cripple her.