Drinking tea was the only joy the Hatter had in life. Ever since the whole time fiasco, everyday had been the same for him. Well, sometimes people would stop by – like curious little brats whining about being lost or royalty – but for the most part, the Hatter's life was the exact same every day. And today was no different.
He awoke – or so, he assumed he woke up- with a newly made hat in his hand. He examined it and then deemed it worthy to grace his mercury-addled head. It fit perfectly atop the hat that was already there. He stood from his stool and grabbed his red velvet vest from the coat rack by his work station. After looking it over he shrugged it on over his pinstriped shirt, miraculously keeping his hats on. He rolled up his cuffs and began looking for his white gloves.
"Now where did I put them?" He asked himself in French. He paused for a moment; he was truly unaware that he could speak French.
"Well, they could possibly be in the last place you left them." The Cheshire Cat suggested from its place on the window sill.
"Now don't let's be silly!" The Hatter scoffed. "There's no way they'd be there!"
"Suit yourself." The Cat smirked.
"That's precisely what I'm trying to do." The Hatter insisted. "Only, I can't find my gloves."
"You might want to check your hands." The Cat lazily purred as its stripes began to unwind around it.
"Well, that's just ridiculous…" The Hatter trailed off as he realized that the gloves were, indeed, on his hands. "Huh, imagine that." He said to the cat, but by that time it was nothing but a smile and could not hear him. At least, he didn't think it could.
The Hatter then resumed getting ready. He located a rather large hole in the upper left leg of his trousers that he decided to lace together with a think leather string. It was a very crude patch job, with leg showing trough the gaps, but it suited him just fine. Next he picked up his black pair of boots, which was covered with lots of odd buckles and were as high as his knee. "Now…that won't do…" He mumbled to himself. He moseyed to the back of the store and brought out his identical white pair of boots. He decided to wear the right white one and the left black one. "Perfect." He said.
Last, but not least, he pocketed his pocket watch.
"Now," he announced to himself, "it's time for tea!"
"I thought you'd never say that." The March Hare –Ears, as the Hatter affectionately called him- said as he emerged from under the Hatter's working desk.
"Now, Ears, just what were you doing under there?" the Hatter asked, following his friend out to the Tea Party set up in the garden.
"I was preparing tea, of course." Ears answered.
"…makes sense." The Hatter allowed. He cracked his knuckles and plopped himself down in the largest chair at the mile long table.
"You know," Ears said pensively, "it is almost March…"
"Oh, is it?" This perked The Hatter up considerably. It was a nice change around March. For once the Hare was as mad as the Hatter was and as an added plus for the month of madness the Hare was made human. Interesting things happened when Ears became human. "I much look forward to that."
"You've forgotten your tie." Ears pointed out as he handed the Hatter a cup and saucer.
"You're quite right!" the Hatter exclaimed. "Excuse me dear friend. And if Time happens by, I'm still aware its tea time; tell him I'm in the loo."
The Hatter grabbed his black silk bowtie and stood in front of the upside-down floor length funhouse mirror that hid itself in the corner of his shop. "I had quite forgotten how tall I am." He mumbled to himself as he fumbled with his tie. And, in fact, he was now pushing six foot two; much taller than he once was.
"Are you coming back for tea?" Ears called from the garden. The Hatter, who had already forgotten why he was inside in the first place, turned away from the mirror and ran back into the garden. His reflection stood there for a moment longer and shook its head. "˙ʇsɐɟ ƃuıƃuɐɥɔ ǝɹɐ sƃuıɥʇ" is all he said before he too turned and ran out his own door into his own garden.
The Hatter sat back down in the obnoxiously large chair and watched as Ears sipped his tea. Hay was twisted around the Hare's ears, a sure sign of madness.
"Ears, I've been wondering-"
"Never a good sign." Ears sighed.
"-Well, why do you – a Hare- drink tea?" The Hatter's curiosity got the best of him, sometimes.
"You're been drinking tea with me for over a hundred years and you're just now asking?" Ears lazily glared at him.
"Well, I've only just noticed." He explained truthfully.
Ears sighed, his heart breaking just a little. Not that the Hatter noticed, though. "I'm not exactly your normal Hare, now am I?" He asked. "I am part human."
"All too true." The Hatter smiled, remembering last March.
"Would you like a biscuit?" Ears offered, taking a bite out of one of his own.
"Nah, not today." The Hatter was so very envious of the Hare's buckteeth at the moment. So, he just rocked his chair back and closed his eyes – both golden brown at the moment- and set down his teacup. He tilted his head up so he could see splotches of light through his eyelids and reached back to hold his hats on his head. Sometimes the Hatter preferred silent moments like this.
Ears took moments like this for his enjoyment. He let his wide eyes follow the jaw line of the mad man before him and trace down his throat to his chest and from his chest to his lap (where he let his eyes linger a bit on the exposed skin showing through the makeshift patchwork) and then to other bits he only got to fully see about once a year. He gulped and then quickly looked away for fear the Hatter would open his eyes, and guzzled two whole glasses of tea.
Unaware, the Hatter watched the splotches behind his eyes make funny shapes and felt the tick-tick-ticking from his clock working under his skin. Sometimes, he just wanted to rip the damn thing off, but at times like this he thought the feeling of spinning gears to be soothing. Suddenly, he rocked back too far and lost his balance. The poor man fell from the chair just in time to have the chair fall on top of him. "…the hell?" He sputtered. "Since when do I lose my balance?"
Ears watched as his dear friends eyes faded completely to red and decided it was best not to rush to his side. In fact, it was best to avoid the Hatter all together when he had that eye color. He watched as the Hatter picked himself up and then grabbed the chair, throwing it across the table and into a tree nearby. The chair smashed as it made contact. Best step with caution, he advised himself.
The Hatter was fuming and his thoughts were racing. That chair dare disgrace me?! His mind screamed. He swiped his arm out, knocking over the tea set in front of him and then stormed off to climb a tree behind him. He somehow got it into his mind that if he could get to the top of the tree then he wouldn't have fallen in the first place.
"You're going to hurt yourself." Ears said worriedly.
The Hatter turned back, eyes of flame, and just growled at his friend. He noticed about half way up that this tree's bark was very rough and tearing through his gloves, making his hands bleed. He seemed to find this rather funny, though, because he burst out into uncontrollable laughter that made poor Ears almost jump out of his skin.
The blood poured from the scratches and left an unusual pattern on the tree, so much so that the hatter decided to try finger painting with it, not too much avail. He soon gave up and then started wondering why he was even in the tree in the first place. Dejected and confused he jumped and landed crouched like a cat. "I would like some tea now, I imagine." He said aloud. "But after I go change my gloves, these are ruined and I haven't the foggiest idea why."
After he ran inside Ears approached the tree and jumped up it a bit to get a look at what the Hatter had painted. He was slightly shocked to see that it was a picture of a little girl, a little girl which he recognized right away. Her likeness etched into the tree in the hatter's own blood. Ears had to wonder if the mad man even realized what – or who- he'd drawn. Probably not, it's probably buried so deep in his subconscious that he's forgotten all about it. But even Ears could tell that those memories were burbling to the surface. And what shall I do when that happens? He wondered.
Meanwhile the Hatter was tearing apart the back room of his shop, frantically looking for his fingerless gloves. "I will not rest until I find them!" he vowed. Something shiny promptly caught his eye and he forgot about looking for gloves entirely. Until the Cheshire Cat reminded him, that is.
"Shouldn't you be looking for your gloves…again, I might add." The cat purred.
"Oh, yes. Yes I should." The Hatter said to the cat. He didn't even glance over at the fat feline; instead he picked himself up off the ground and resumed the scavenger hunt.
"Have you checked behind the looking glass?" The cat asked, its green eyes narrowing deviously.
"There's nothing behind the looking glass except the looking glass room, you know that." The Hatter scoffed. "And everything in that room is backwards and I shall never find my gloves if everything is backwards."
"I meant behind the mirror itself, not behind the glass."
"Then you should say what you mean." The Hatter placed his hands on his hips. This cat has so much to learn.
"I mean what I say, isn't that the same thing?" The cat asked, opening one eye to see the Hatter's reaction to the comment, but the mad man had no sense of déjà vu at all and simply said, "It's not the same thing, not the same thing at all."
"Whatever." The cat closed its eyes again.
As his eyes turned a faint red the Hatter turned towards the looking glass, his reflection staring intently at him. His reflection's eyes were olive green. "ǝɔılɐ" the reflection whispered to him as he checked behind it.
"What did you say?" The Hatter asked the looking glass as he happily located his gloves behind it.
"ǝɔılɐ" The Hatter in the mirror said again.
"I'm so sorry, I don't speak backwards." The Hatter told himself. "Or upside down, for that matter."
"With whom are you speaking?" The Cat asked, waltzing over to the mirror.
"Myself, naturally." The Hatter answered.
"Did you find your gloves?" It turned its fat furry face up to look at him. He waved the gloves around. "I shall be off then. Remember something for me, will you?"
"Yes, yes, anything you like…" the Hatter mumbled as he switched gloves, the fingerless ones were so much easier on his cuts.
"anywAy, naturaLly, not everythIng is exaCtly as it sEems…In fact, nothing iS as it seems, so be Careful. One More thING Before I go: teA can go Cold quicKly."
The Hatter stood there, long after the cat had gone trying to figure out what had just been said to him. "Did you happen to catch that?" He asked his reflection. "Of course you didn't." He smiled.
The hatter smoothed out his vest and left the room. His reflection scratched his hair and still stared after him. Finally the looking glass Hatter said, "˙ʞɔɐq ƃuıɯoɔ sı ǝɔılɐ"
The Hatter kicked at the cobblestones that made up the path out of Ears' garden , sipping from a chipped tea cup as he went. He wanted to see people at the moment, people that were not in the looking glass.