Note: This used to be two short stories, but for Halloween, I've combined them and added some new scenes to a) make the combination more seamless and b) to continue the weird story.

Also, some bits of this won't make sense without having read my earlier one-shot 'Alice in Otherworld'.

Warning: This contains scenes of sex, violence, alcohol abuse and insanity. Also, if you're a fan of Brandy and Mr. Whiskers, I'm not really sure you'll like this story. There's some OOCness and perversion of the characters and themes. But, if you are a BaMW fan, and like this story, please tell me. If you don't like it, still tell me (I get too much mindless praise and not enough criticism).

Anyway, enjoy the story!


"In THAT direction," the Cat said, waving its right paw round, "lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction," waving the other paw, "lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad."

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."

Lewis Carroll

Chapter 1

"Hey there. Brandy here."

"Hey."

"So, Lorenzo, where do you think we'll go on our date tonight?"

"Well, you know, I was thinking of, maybe, going to the beach at night, enjoy the scenery..."

"That idea would be wonderful. I could use a change of scenery here. I fucking hate this place."

"OK..."

"Sorry if I got a bit angry, but seriously though. My own mother's a fucking whore, bringing in those stupid guys to her house in order to pay for our food...did you just laugh?"

"No. No, I didn't. Please continue."

"Anyway, I hate that...that...sorry, sorry..."

"Um, what about your father?

"Aren't you going to...oh."

"Yes...and if that wasn't bad enough I've got to live in this damn apartment with some drugged-up bums and an alleyway where some guy got a bullet through his head last week."

"Oh..."

"I want to get out of here, Lorenzo. I'm so desperate...all I want is someone to love. Someone to take me out for long walks, someone to hug me and kiss me, that sort of sentimental crap. I don't to end up like her. Geez, I swear I'm going to kill...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"So...11:00pm at the beach, okay?"

"Okay, I'll see you there then. Bye."

Brandy gulped down the last of her Dr. Pepper, ended the phone call and slumped herself down on her bed, pondering as her eyes were fixed on that lightbulb.

Life was hell.

Having constantly being awaken by the blaring of police sirens in the middle of the night, the knowledge that someone died in your general area, your guardian being a prostitute; someone expected her to cope with all that?

Brandy fiddled with her dirty blonde hair as she considered what she was doing. What if this didn't end successfully, what if it was like last time?

Last time...

No, perish the thought. It won't be like that, it won't be like that at all. There are nice boys out there, aren't there? Lorenzo is probably a nice boy, he won't do what What's-His-Name did, right?

Right?

She decided not to dwell too much on the subject, so she placed a set of headphones on her head, playing heavy metal loudly in a feeble attempt to escape reality.


Lorenzo grinned.

He lay down on his bed, strewn with various issues of his favourite magazines, arms smugly behind his back. He grinned, he always grinned at opportunities like this

He had found another girl, thus meaning he wasn't going to spend Saturday night sitting around on his ass watching TV again. Oh, and this girl had angst as well; that just made her more interesting. She needed him. If he didn't come to her rescue, she would pretty much die. More to accomplish.

He stared at his wristwatch and began to count down every second.


Brandy took a hot shower, felt the warm water spray all over her body, then dressed herself in a light grey tank top, a pair of jeans with intentional holes and a pair of brown sandalls. Not really much for a romantic outing, but it's not like Lorenzo would care.

She didn't really have to worry about her mother noticing her leaving the house, when she had said nothing about her outing. Mother had a 'guest' over, and she would be too occupied to bother about Brandy.

She actually saw the guest; this one came shirtless, with...nipple piercings. Best to forget he existed.

As Brandy left the flat she inhabited, letting a gasp of wind wash over her, she was reminded of how much she hated going outside. Just catching a bus in this area was unsettling. The streets were littered with broken bottles and other assorted rubbish. The only sources of light were the streetlights, and the neon signs decorating the stores. Flamboyant graffiti spelling out curse words and various ramblings decorated the brick walls. Brandy even took a moment to read some of them before continuing with her journey, just to wonder what sort of person would write stuff like this.

After reading the dirty jokes and nonsense that dominated the walls, she came across more prostitutes, looking casual under streetlamps. They glared at Brandy. That was the only movement they made.

She walked past a man standing on the pavement, wrapped in a brown coat, selling newspapers. What an anachronism he was. A story about missing people on the increase. Everything's on the increase.

She viewed hobos, some sleeping on makeshift beds of newspapers (or urine), and some drunken, dancing in front of her. She would actually feel empathy for these creatures if they weren't so disgusting.

It was appropriate that they were disgusting though. Oh yes, what a disgusting city, what a disgusting home.

She barely noticed the man darting down the streets.