Queen of Hearts
Courtroom in the Palace of Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts11th Hour, 37th Minute, 25th SecondWhite RabbitThe hands used to move violently fast at times when they were enraged, crashing into each other as they simultaneously danced around the dark, stationary numbers. When the hands were happy, they moved fluidly about the face at a pace almost too imperceptible to calculate. However, my golden pocket watch has not performed its duty to accurately tell me the time since The Mad Hatter managed to put his filthy paws on it and wreck it last year, lathering it with butter to “ensure its proficiency”. Ever since then, the hands have been moving backwards, ceasing to display time in any tangible form of meaning. I had tried to shake it back into order but only managed to have some strange orange powder fall from it. The fact that he is an idiot goes without saying, but I am verbose. He is an idiot.
But moving onto more intellectual issues: my watch was stolen five days ago and, upon being returned, was smeared with dried blood and caked on fur. Considering that the connection between my neck and head are often contingent upon my having the correct time, my watch frequently presents a problem. But Her Majesty does not think that gears coated with bodily fluids or backwards moving hands are a sufficient excuse to be late, so I made sure I arrived promptly to this judicial spectacle.The courtroom is full with all of the creatures of the kingdom. All except the Cheshire Cat, that is. However, it would be a false inference to assume that his sudden disappearance has perturbed me in any sense. On the contrary, I never understood why the Queen showed that filthy brute such favoritism. He was vile and repulsive; those beady golden eyes glimmered even in the dead of night, no doubt ignited by his malicious desire to perform some godforsaken evil action. But the most disgusting thing upon that fuchsia countenance of his was that smile, for lack of a better word. It was such a stark and dazzling white compared to the matted fur of tinged purple, and it stretched to the edge of his face and threatened to keep expanding as if it desired to swallow you whole. It nauseated and terrified me in every sense of the words. But, as I mentioned before, he is not here.
The Mad Hatter is here, resting comfortably in the witness stand, smirking to the audience of card soldiers aligned in the rows before him. The cards, positioned in Diamonds, Hearts, and Spades, ignore him. The Clubs are all stationed in a group next to the entrance, except for Five of Clubs. Seven of Clubs returns Hatter’s smirk. He even nudges the soldier next to him and swiftly draws a finger across his neck, execution style. They snicker. I don’t blame them. I want to kill him myself for that smirk. God, I haven’t seen a smirk like that since Tweedle Dee last year…and everyone knows that his head dropped faster than the jaws of those around him.
Alice is across from Mad Hatter, her blond hair creating a shower of gold light as it hangs in front of her face. Perhaps she is guilty of this crime, but that does not really matter. The Queen will obliterate her if she did indeed destroy the feline, leaving no evidence left except my watch and a tray of tarts. No one leaves the defendant’s corner alive anyway, so she might as well enjoy its red velvet seat while she can. I have never understood the decadence that went into the composition of this courtroom. I guess The Queen realized long ago that her wealth could not buy a functioning kingdom, so she might as well spend it on arched ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and yards of scarlet carpet leading to the judge’s seat, where her particularly large rear end is situated. She repeatedly glances uneasily at The Mad Hatter, who is on her right. He keeps producing cups of hot tea and no matter how many times Tweedle Dum confiscates them, another cup replaces the previous one instantly, pouring forth more aromatic steam into the room. Dum gets confused by this display of trickery and almost drops the liquid from the three cups he is already balancing in the hand that is not carrying the tarts. He is worse than his brother, and I half expect another impromptu execution today.The jury is also here, assembled in the mahogany box to the left of Her Majesty and across from the front row where I am sitting. Those squawking birds look almost imperial in their coats of ruby and garnet feathers. Yet, for some unknown reason, they incessantly make noise. The only reason The Queen tolerates their presence is because birds of a feather flock together. Not one of those insolent creatures would ever deviate from the decision of the group. While such conformity doesn’t provide any justice, it never results in a hung jury. And The Queen has never placed justice high on her priority list.
The Day the Card Soldiers Begin to Paint the Royal Gardens by Command of Her Majesty theQueen of Hearts
Waiting Room of Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts15th Hour, 3rd Minute, 16th SecondQueen of Hearts“WHAT THE HELL?” I screamed until the feather on the top of his hat began to blow in the breeze created by my remarkable lung capacity. “What is the meaning of this?” I stared at the golden trinket lying on the once pristine white carpet, now stained by the blood that covered the watch. I didn’t know what repulsed me more: the red stain now settling into the beautiful fibers of my perfect waiting room (the one I had so immaculately designed in shades of cream as an emblem, if you will, of my reign) or the purple fur that could only be that of my beloved Cheshire Cat.
The Mad Hatter twitched nervously in front of me, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I was pleased at how much my presence must have intimidated him. For some reason, I terrified people. I didn’t mind this, but it was surprising considering how gorgeous I was.
However, Hatter was far from reaching the standard of physical beauty that I set. He looked more possessed than usual and reeked of that foul odor of whatever herb concoctions he loves so much. His enormous hat did nothing to pacify the flaming sea of red that protruded from underneath its brim, and his eyes widened to such a circumference that I backed away as he leaned into speak. How dare such a commoner assume that he has the right to my breathing space? I consider myself a very merciful ruler in allowing equal oxygen distribution to my subjects. Therefore, if he values his head, he should…“BACK OFF!” I bellowed. He stumbled backwards, but continued.“My dearest Queen,” he beseeched, “I found that watch today. I believe that it belongs to the White Rabbit.” He shook his head in a most dramatic fashion, and continued. “I had asked my favorite friend, Alice----”
At that name, I snorted violently, the blood underneath my skin churning like a tempest in a teapot. His eyes grew larger in fear, but he pressed on, exhaling a bitter scent with every syllable. “I had a tea party exactly a week ago, and I had invited Alice and Cheshire. However, only Alice came that day. She did bring the most delicious tarts, though. I have never tasted anything like them before; it was such a divine and airy sensation that teased the taste buds and then violently saturated them with…” His voice trailed off in my mind while his hands motions became more animated in his attempt to describe the stupid tarts. I longed for his wildly flinging limbs to make contact with his face.
The only part of his imbecilic babbling that my mind, which the gods had so brilliantly created, had retained was the fact that Cheshire had not arrived when scheduled. This was not like him; he loved me so much that he would have put up with the company of this madman just to gather information about his doings. But just the mention of that Alice made me distraught. My heart, which I am convinced is plagued by being the most empathetic in all of Wonderland, jumped. It rerouted itself into my throat so that every time I swallowed, the organ skipped a beat. I could feel that insatiable anger harvesting again. “OFF WITH YOUR…” I screamed.
The Mad Hatter passionately threw himself to his knees and began to wring his hands around the fabric of my skirts. “Have mercy and listen to me, Your Majesty. After she had left that day, I sent word to Cheshire to ask him why his presence had been lacking, but there was no response.” He picked up my hand with his trembling ones. “Of course, there wouldn’t be,” I snapped. “He was scheduled to stay with me this weekend…” my voice trailed off. He hadn’t been here all week. I was so angered by his lack of interest in my invitation that I had ordered the offing of his head and sent the Clubs to retrieve him. But they came back without him. No…something wasn’t right. Talking aloud to grace Mad Hatter with the sound of my vocal chords, I said, “I had sent my most diligent card soldiers, the Clubs, to search for Cheshire. They returned tired and empty handed. Usually, the penalty for such failure is death, but the cards were so profuse in their apologies that I spared them.”Hatter said nothing.My eyes wandered back to the watch that did, indeed, belong to the White Rabbit. “How did you get that?”The Hatter’s eyes narrowed. “I found it this morning. It was underneath the chair that Alice had been sitting at during the party.”“Find her now. FIND HER NOW. OFF WITH HER HEAD!” I bellowed. The scream sent two Club soldiers rushing in. “Find Alice and bring her to me. Tell the people of Wonderland that she is guilty for murdering the Cheshire Cat.” I turned to the Mad Hatter, who was staring at the Clubs.
“You didn’t find my dearest friend?” he asked them, perfectly down trodden.
Five and Seven stared at each other for a brief moment, neither one speaking.
“Nope, not a thing,” Five finally said.
“Not a bloody thing,” Seven reiterated.
At that, Hatter shrieked with laughter. Disgusted, I shook his parasitic grip off and yelled, “YOU ARE DISMISSED! OFF WITH YOUR…”
“Your Highness,” he interjected, “I will provide any aid possible in seeing that Alice becomes avenged for this…this…this travesty.” He stood up and walked out of my waiting room, leaving the stench of tea leaves. I disgusted myself by being such a benevolent ruler.
“Five of Clubs,” I said to the nearest soldier, “Gather a group of Spades and have them paint my gardens red. This shall serve as a reminder to the people how Alice and her bloodshed have tarnished the innocence of Cheshire. Everyone must be convinced of her guilt.” I thought for a moment about my feline, the one thing as twisted and as crooked in this world as I. I could not believe that his grin had been ripped from this metallic coil of life, that his eerie eyes would fail to reflect shimmers of yellow and cast them into the shadows, that his mind would cease to conspire against those with inadequate intelligence. Alice was even more of a problem than I had thought, but she would come to know my power.
“But technically, Your Highness,” the insolent Five said, “she isn’t guilty until proven so.”
With one decided flick of my wrist, Seven of Clubs responded and Five’s head was no longer attached to his torso. Yes, they would all come to know my power.
Five Days after the Card Soldiers Begin to Paint the Royal Gardens by Command of Her Majesty theQueen of Hearts
Courtroom in the Palace of Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts12th Hour, 44th Minute, 59th SecondAlice“She is not that powerful, not at all,” I think to myself, casting a sideways glance at the Queen. Her eyes meet with mine and they are dreadful, quite dreadful. Just as black, bitter coffee burns the tongue at breakfast, her irises burn those on whom they linger. I sit back in the witness stand and shift my glance. The Mad Hatter winks at me from his spot on the bench. Of course, he is delighted right now. He played his role beautifully, without any flaw. But he has nothing to lose; this is a game to him. I just want to go home. I thought by doing this, it would be easier…but I’m not so sure anymore. I have not been sure of anything for along time.
Tweedle Dum continues to ask me questions that I do not know how to answer. I use to know how to answer all sorts of questions, especially arithmetic questions. But I can’t answer any of Dum’s. He’s fat and his eyes bulge out, the stand smells like Mad Hatter, and the jury is emitting such a ruckus that my head is spinning. I feel nauseous.
“How did you get the Rabbit’s watch?” he asks, eyeballs practically running away form his skull. His face is curious, very curious.
I blink. “He dropped it when he was running to the palace one day. So I picked it up.”
I can see White Rabbit actually contemplating whether or not he had dropped it. I almost feel guilty for telling lies, except there is no logic in this world, none at all. This is why I must get out. The Queen’s breathing is labored as her disdain grows with every word I utter. I refuse to meet her crazed and caffeinated coffee eyes. Whereas Dum’s eyes fall out of their sockets, hers retract into her skull like prehistoric animals receding into caverns.
Dum persists. “What was the purpose of stealing the White Rabbit’s watch?”
What am I suppose to say now? The courtroom falls silent. The hush blankets the card soldiers in a breeze of uneasiness. They are well aware that at any moment, any given confession on my part, they will have to act immediately to remove my head. And how will I ever get home if I don’t have my head? Everything seems to be moving at a quicker pace than the previous second. I twitch, a sure sign of guilt.
“Will you repeat the question, please?” My words fall to the floor softer than the feet of my mother walking down the hall at night, when her quiet voice is the only thing disturbing the darkness.
Dum’s voice is angry, though, no doubt mirroring what he believes The Queen wants to hear. They all play her game here. I used to be good at games, especially croquet. But croquet is structured around rules, not insanity.
“What was the purpose of stealing the White Rabbit’s watch?”
I am scared. I want to go home. I need to get out.
“I needed to time how long my tarts had to bake,” I answer, hoping this verbal game of croquet will soon cease. But Dum swings again.
“Why did you make tarts?”
“To take to Mad Hatter’s party.”
“Did you kill Cheshire before or after the making tarts?”
“The tarts!” The Queen screams. She flashes out an open palm towards Dum, who had never relinquished possession of the pastries. “They are evidence. Bring them here so that I may inspect them.”
I hear Hatter snicker. I turn slightly to face him, and he wiggles his fingers playfully in my direction. The dark gleam in his eye disturbs me. His eyes are darker than coffee, so much darker. He is a curious creature, growing ever more curious by the moment.
I watch as The Queen places a roughly cut square of dough onto her tongue. It was surprising to observe her mouth engage in something other than screaming. I stare for a moment.“What are the tarts made of?” The Queen asks, mouth full of dissolving evidence.
“Hmmm…” is the only sound my mouth permits me to release. She chews in the same manner as she speaks, loud and obnoxiously, putting forth violent effort with every jaw movement. Crumbs fall form the corners of her mouth, suicide pieces of dough that failed to adhere to her mountainous range of teeth.
“What are the tarts made of?” Her voice grows louder, just like everything else in this place. “I, being a most remarkable queen, have been sent many delicious gifts from afar. However, I have tasted nothing quite like this before. What exactly is in them?”
I want to go home, now. I twist my thumbs together, as if by creating friction, I will somehow kindle enough energy for time and space travel or whatever brought me hear. My ears hurt; my head hurts.
“How is that a relevant question?” I ask, instigating her further to the delight of Hatter. The Queen still chews, more slowly now, as if she is beginning to digesting something that taste foul or upsets the flames in the pit of her stomach.
“Answer me,” she snarls, “or I’ll remove you head so quickly it will fly into the Mad Hatter’s lap before he has had time to blink!”
The Hatter laughs and jumps in his seat, clapping his hands all the while. Nice to know someone is enjoying this. I blink, trying to envision home between my eyelids. There is only black. The Queen leans her head in close, her coffee eyes narrow in on me. Her eyes are coffee, but her breath is something stronger, something more pungent.
“Answer me,” she hisses.
“The answer is cat,” I say. The courtroom succumbs to pandemonium. The soldiers all simultaneously jump up, ready to remove my head. The Mad Hatter cackles, disregarding a volume appropriate for this setting. The Queen begins to vomit on Dum, nauseated by the thought of consuming her beloved feline friend.
Dum screams, “Why did you kill Cheshire Cat?” I can not tell if this anger stems from the disruption in his courtroom or his sudden dousing of vomit. The Queen is now shuddering violently as whatever had been previously digested in her stomach continues to return to the floor of the courtroom, except now it’s accompanied by blood. Perhaps she is beginning to assume the worst…perhaps she has figured it out. From behind the rows of cards, I see a brilliant but vanishing flash of purple. The White Rabbit faints. Hatter springs up from his seat and rushes to where I am standing. Our eyes flash to the doors that are quickly becoming surrounded by the Clubs.
“Why did you kill Cheshire Cat?” Dum screams, not knowing what else to do as The Queen’s head falls into the pool of her own vomit.
Seven Days Before the Card Soldiers Begin to Paint the Royal Gardens by Command of Her Majesty theQueen of Hearts
The Tea Table in the Backyard of the Mad Hatter9th Hour, 22nd Minute, 47th SecondMad Hatter“Why would I want to kill the Cheshire Cat?” Alice asked, eyes wide as the saucer she held in her hand. She really was a sweet girl, perhaps a bit simple-minded, but sweet nonetheless. Her hair was very yellow. It reminded me of the petals of the singing daisies that tend to make the sweetest tea. That tea is the only tea I drink for breakfast. Did I even have breakfast today…? FOCUS.
I laughed. “You won’t kill the Cheshire Cat. We’ll fake his death.”
The Cheshire Cat winked at Alice from across the table. He grinned that expanse of porcelain that even someone as manic as I found disturbing.
“My dear,” Cheshire said, licking his paw as a gentleman would, “it is my impression of you that you would like to return home. That won’t happen if Her Majesty is still alive. She will never let you leave this world.” No wonder The Queen liked him so much; he was a conniving son of a bitch. His fur looked soft though. I bet it was as soft as the crushed petals of the lilacs that I used to flavor my cinnamon tea. Tea. Tea was amazing. I needed more tea. I needed a clean cup right then. I needed to get up and reach across the table to…FOCUS. We have a plan.
Alice sat across from Cheshire, while I sat at the head of the table. Before me stretched my kingdom of brown and bubbling liquid.
“How is faking your death going to kill the Queen?” Alice asked. She had not taken a sip of my tea. Did the fragile girl not trust a being like me, even after I had brewed tea especially for her using the leaves of the roses, who were particularly difficult things to bargain with? But save that anger. Spare it for Her Royal Highness.
Cheshire sighed. I could not tell if he was amused or annoyed by the girl’s inability to think like a madman. But then again, he divided his time between me and The Queen, so it wasn’t her fault he couldn’t handle discussions with the sane. “The Queen will be enraged by my death. She will set up a trial, in which you will be the defendant. Mad Hatter will be the main witness. No one will be expecting me, leaving me perfectly free to kill her at any moment.”
I was watching an ant crawling up the leg of the table. FOCUS. Oh, God, it got closer. Don’t touch my tea, don’t touch my tea! The filthy black speck inched closer to the edge of a silver spoon and I smashed the bug with my fist, sending the spoon into the eye of the cat. Good, that yellow ball of optical nerves was freaky anyway. He hissed and then quickly composed himself.
“No, that’s far too risky. You should not be in the courtroom at the time of the trial. If someone sees you…well, those card soldiers are better trained than most like to believe. As soon as you would appear, anarchy would ensue and heads would roll,” I said.
“I am perfectly aware of my own capabilities, Mr. Hatter. If I do not wish to be seen, I won’t be,” he retorted.
His confidence puzzled me.“How can you be so sure no one will expect you there?” I asked. He grinned and my reflection stared back at me in his canines.
“Let’s just suppose that I disappear for a week. If I know The Queen, she’ll eventually send out the Clubs, and they…they are easy to deal with. They shouldn’t be a problem after a little bit of negotiation.” He began to extract his claws for self examination.
“No,” Alice chirped. “Mad Hatter is right. Stay out of the courtroom.” She turned to me. “How are we going to manage to kill her? We’re outnumbered, and I’m just a kid, and you…” Her voice trailed off. Ha! She deemed me capable of killing. Well, there had been that one time a few years ago. But that caterpillar got what was coming to him. How dare he blow his hookah smoke on my singing flowers! Nothing ever made me as miserable as watching my pansies wither with cancer. I just wish that it hadn’t been so messy…FOCUS.
“It will be clean,” I replied.
Cheshire scoffed. “What kind of murder is ever clean?”
Then it hit me. “Poison. We can bring it into the courtroom without it being detected.”
Alice dropped her cup, splashing tea on Cheshire’s fur. This time he not only hissed, he completely recoiled under the table. “Where do you get poison?” she asked, eyeing the tea cups on the table.
“I have a garden. The flowers in it are wonderful ladies, singing all the time. But some of them have darker stories hidden beneath their leaves. I could extract certain ingredients from the roots of some rosemary and amaranth and concoct a potion that would…suffice for our purposes.”
By this time, Cheshire had managed to leap back into his chair across from Alice, who remained speechless. “How do you get the poison to her?” he asked, nonchalantly picking up a tart filled with sunflower petals.
I smiled, eyeing his pastry. “I’ll take care of that.”
Cheshire shook his head and stared at Alice. “Look at her, Hatter,” he said, his voice now becoming sharp. “She can’t do this. Neither her heart nor her stomach is strong enough,” he spat.
“That’s not true,” she cried. “I’ll do whatever I can to get back home!”
“Then there’s only one more pressing issue,” Cheshire said, reclining back in his seat as his smirk grew more resolute. “I can make sure that the Clubs tell The Queen that I have disappeared, but she will want evidence. How do we provide that?”
“We could really kill you,” I scoffed. He glared at me. God, those eyes again. They cut sharper than the knives I use to spread butter on toast. Toast would be good now. Toast and butter always compliment the tea of violets well. Toast and butter and butter and toast and…FOCUS.
“The watch. We steal the watch of the White Rabbit! I managed to get my hands on it last year and covered it in butter just to piss him off. I heard that it made the hands move backwards.” I snickered at the thought of the tightly wound rabbit becoming undone as his watch spun out of control. “Anyway, I also happened to place inside of the watch crumbled pieces of tiger lily petals. To the inexperienced and virginal nose, the scent will not be distinguishable and will go unnoticed. To an expert such as me, on the other hand, it will leave a luscious trail for the nose to follow, leading to the exact location of the watch that is just dying to be stolen.” I was out of breath by the time I got my explanation out. I had two sets of eyes peering into me.
“What good will the watch do?” Cheshire asked.
“I just want to go home!” Alice whined.
I smiled at the cat. “How attached are you to your fur?” He growled at me, making me laugh. “Are you sure you’re not really a dog?” I whooped. This really set him off. He swiped his claws at me, knocking my saucer out of my hand.
“Damn it! Will the two of you stop breaking my dishes?” I cried. “We get the watch and cover it in blood and fur. I take it to The Queen and report you missing from a tea party to which you and Miss Alice here were invited. Meanwhile, you lie low. Hearts flips out, calls a trial, and the two of us attend. At the trial, which you will not be present at, the court will have a tray of tarts that the lovely Alice will have prepared. They will think the filling is cat; we will know the filling is poison.”
“How do we know The Queen will eat one?” Alice asked tentatively.
Cheshire and I both laughed. “Have you not seen her fat ass?” he cried, but then appeared appalled by his outburst of emotion. Returning to his stoic self, he responded, “Believe me, The Queen likes to eat.”
Alice shifted in her chair. “If the Queen is dead, I will be able to go home?”
I nodded.
“Then why are you two doing this? What are you getting out of it?” she questioned.
“Everyone hates her,” Cheshire Cat explained, “especially me.” His irises contracted and his smile grew larger as he tilted his head and grinned wickedly at her. That feline was some kind of freak, which was a severe accusation coming from me. His love/hate relationship with The Queen was under constant speculation. Was he a trusted servant? Or was he just trying to gain inside knowledge on running a kingdom for future reference? I didn’t really care as long as his two-timing worked in my favor.
I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t hate The Queen. She’s too much fun to hate.”
They both stared at me.
I smiled. “I have my reason, though. This could quite possibly be the most fun I’ve ever had. This will be anarchy.”
Oh, yes. This was going to be fun. We would create chaos, disorder. We would create anarchy.
Five Days after the Card Soldiers Begin to Paint the Royal Gardens by Command of Her Majesty theQueen of Hearts
Courtroom in the Palace of Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts12th Hour, 48th Minute, 17th SecondCheshire CatAnarchy. That was what Hatter had wanted, wasn’t it? Well, I hope he is happy now. It has been well worth the wait to see that brilliant flash of triumph in his eyes as he sees the weighty flesh of The Queen’s tongue plop out of her mouth. All that planning has definitely blossomed. Hatter is bouncing around madly, running to pull Alice from the witness stand. That’s his problem, that’s why he’s not a real madman; he’s too quick in action. Murder is not to be done lightly or irrationally; it must be thoroughly contemplated. For weeks I thought about whether it was more fitting to boil him alive in a vat of scalding tea or to submerse him in a freezing one and watch him drown in his most beloved concoction. However, that tantalizing decision will never have to be made now. And Alice…poor girl. I believed that being in my presence long enough would have given her ample opportunities to learn to trust no one. But did she pick up on that lesson? No. She stands there, with Hatter, transfixed as the Clubs begin to blockade the entrance door. She has a most angelic face, the kind that looks as if the skin could easily peel away with just a swift motion of a claw. I bet she would cry; I bet she would scream. She looks as if she is on the verge of tears now, realizing she has nowhere to go. I sit, perched atop the head rest of The Queen’s chair. Ahhh, The Queen. May she finally be laid to rest. May she rest in the rotten, putrid bowls of the earth from whence she came. May the dirt enshroud her decaying form in such thickness that even if she were alive to yell, “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD”, it would only reach the ears of the maggots feasting upon her flesh.I pride myself in picking a location with such an immaculate view. Everybody, save Alice and Hatter, rush up to The Queen’s body situated slightly below me. Some cry out in terror, some pull out feathers, some simply collapse. Anarchy? Ha! This is not anarchy. Such a calculating, manacle being as myself would never succumb to that. I will have order; I will have respect.The Clubs move closer to Alice and Hatter. Would anyone see what is to become of them? Would anyone care at this point? The Clubs hesitate as if unsure about their mission. They look around for me, as if needing a sign of reassurance. I grin, lick my paw, and allow my tail to become visible for a brief second. Seven sees it. He will follow through. He always has been the most reliable card. Instructing him to take care of business when the time would come had not been difficult. In fact, it had been so simple that I knew not whether to be delighted or disgusted with myself. All it had entailed was to “go missing” in the Royal Gardens, the location where the Clubs always resort to hiding when they do not feel like working. I inform them of my mission, and they don’t have to waste energy looking for me. Winning the loyalty of paper rectangles has never been difficult. This is what would make it such a shame to have to dispose of them later. But no one can know the real story behind the death of The Queen of Hearts or her “murderers”. If that information leaked, it would ruin the triumphant return of Cheshire Cat, called forth from the dead to rule over Wonderland in its darkest hour. Only a few more moments of waiting for all loose ends to be tied up…or, rather, cut off. Then I shall become fully visible for all to see, an emblem of the reconstitution of order. I am rather jealous of those below me who will be able to watch me gloriously materialize from the ashes of mortality. They will have such a striking memory of the moment I gained power, but at least, I suppose, I will be able to watch as Alice and Hatter…Thuds have never sounded sweeter. That is what they deserve. Hatter was a fool. No evil genius, if truly a genius, kills for sheer fun. He kills in order to benefit himself. This is what Wonderland needs: a revolution. It needs a dictator that can uphold the natural structure of the world. It needs me. And with all the unnecessary obstacles out of the way, there will never be anarchy in Wonderland.