Hello there, readers. (sighs) Well, ladies and gents, I must admit I've been feeling a bit..."off" lately. Now, let's examine something: my emotions pretty much CHOOSE what I'll write. When I'm happy, I make things like The White Flowers, and No Big Deal, Hatter! When I'm sad, things like me and katzsoa's Final Game series come up.

Riddle me this: what happens when I feel "off?"

Answer: apparently, I turn into Mr. Hyde.

Don't believe me? You will after reading this.

Rating: M (Are you SURE you don't want to turn back? (pause) Okay...)

Disclaimer: Do I even NEED to tell people that I don't own Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland? I think it's common knowledge by now. The rights go to Tim Burton, Disney, Lewis Carroll, and anyone else involved in the movie I failed to mention, not me.

Summary: Wonderland. Underland. Where everyone is harmlessly mad, the Hatter enjoys having fun little tea parties, and the Queen rules with a gentle hand...RIGHT? Three one-shots, all "drabbles," that not only reveal just how much of a "sicko-path" I am, but also explore the sides of these beloved characters that, quite frankly, no one REALLY wants to see...

Warning: IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH, YOU MAY WANT TO TURN BACK. AND IF YOU DON'T, I WARNED YOU! This first chapter should be nothing new, if you've read my stories, but the ones that follow very well may be. Please, no flames if you decide to review. (If not, at least let me know in some way you enjoyed the story. If you DIDN'T enjoy it, then keep your peace, please, or else tell me how it could be fixed.)

Now, with all that out of the way, prepare to be (possibly) disturbed...

Chapter I: Torture (Cheshire Cat)

I like pain.

I like suffering.

I love death.

...Unless, of course, any of these are mine.

I thoroughly enjoy the coppery scent of freshly spilled blood, the taste of raw, or cooked, flesh, and the look of abject terror on my prey's faces. It always brings a smile to my face.

Then again...I'm ALWAYS smiling.

Ah...fear. Sadness. Regret. Agony.

I love those words...usually.

I don't think there are very many creatures out there who can, with honesty and total knowledge of what they are talking about, say they are safe from me.

Tarrant, Alice, the Tweedles, the Queen...pretty much any human is safe. Even if they were the size of a hamster, they'd be all right. Sure, I might decide to bat them around a bit, but I've tasted human blood before, and it actually isn't all that pleasant.

Besides, I like them; it feels good when they rub and scratch my ears and stomach...particularly when the latter is full.

Ahem...who else? Well, Thackery and Nivens are fine. I don't eat rabbits; they aren't worth the trouble. The last time I had one (my first, last, and only), it didn't turn out well for my ears.

Don't get me wrong: I enjoy the screaming as much as the next feline, but that one was LOUD...

And then, there's Mallymkun. Ah, sweet, dear, tender Mally. Feisty, impatient, unstoppable Mally. Once upon a time, I might have enjoyed the feeling of her body sliding down my throat...might have savored the sensation of her blood flowing past my teeth as I took a bite...but those fantasies didn't last too long. I care too much for her now...even if I wanted to eat her, I probably couldn't.

Absolem is...well, Absolem. Off limits. And, in a contest with Bayard, I'd be the one with a problem.

Although it does make me wonder what dog tastes like...

Blech! Never mind that...

Anyway, that leaves the rest of Underland: all the little birds and rodents and fishes; each with their own taste, their own scent, and their own ways of dying...each soon to become part of me.

Oh, I love it when I see them: each one has to be caught a different way.

The fish are probably my favorite. Why? Well, first of all, because they taste the best...to me, anyway. Secondly: because, as much as I delight in a good chase, the only real exertion I have to put forth with fish is my concentration. And I MUCH prefer my brain over brawn. I sit on the bank, or hover above the water...and I wait. It takes patience, and lots of it; they usually see me, and I sometimes have to wait hours, primed and ready. I, however, have one key advantage: I have all the time in the world.

They don't.

When one gets right where I want it, I just snap out a claw, and with a swipe, I have a writhing, gasping little dinner stuck on it. I pop it in my mouth, and swallow it down.

End of meal.

The only real downside, of course, with fish is that they don't last long after the catch: they can't breathe out of the water as it is, and the hole my claw has left probably doesn't help.

So, enter the birds! They usually take the longest time to finish the journey to my stomach, because I not only have to catch the flying things, I have to pick them clean of all those pretty little feathers, one by one...or sometimes I'll tear a few out a time. I love the way they kick and beat at me with their wings...I've gotten a few scratches, but it's the birds that always end up with the bad end of the deal. Their bones break oh, so easily...the snapping sounds, and the noises those morsels make when they feel them crack apart, are truly music in my ears. A symphony of anguish.

Birds take a while to catch and...er...prepare, but the luscious feeling of their blood pouring down my gullet as I tear into them is normally well worth the effort.

But, of course, if you really want to have fun, you have to get a rodent...or even just some small, fuzzy, skittering beast that isn't really a rodent, but I honestly couldn't care less: a meal's a meal.

Mice, for example, may be clichéd choices of nutrition, and usually don't taste as good as fish (except for Mally, but, again, she's something else to me), but they still taste great. There are so many fun ways to kill and eat rodents, you see; I could prattle on all day on the joys I can get from destroying them.

Usually, I just gobble them up right then and there, raw and often while they are still breathing, right after a short pursuit and/or confusing them with my evaporating skills. Sometimes, if they are small enough, I'll just swallow them alive. The squirms they make beneath my skin as they try to get me to spit them back out are incredibly satisfying...it actually disappoints me, I must confess, when they run out of air within me and the escape attempts cease. Normally, though, I have to resort to more...inventive matters.

Unlike birds, who will often bleed to death if I don't devour them right away after plucking them, or fish, who are virtually dead by the time I've pulled them from their watery homes, I can take my time with rodents. That is what makes them such fun! Oh, all the usual killing techniques work, of course: biting off their heads, slashing their throats, impaling them (like fish), twisting their spines, tearing off their limbs...that list, alone, is endless, and I've used nearly every tactic imaginable. Sometimes, if I'm in a good mood, I'll take it a step or two further: namely, I crush them under my paws. They make the most delightful expressions: their eyes bug out, their mouths gape, and little rasping noises come from their throats. Feeling their tiny skeletons break as I press down is just sensational. And, if I'm in a REALLY good mood, I might take them home with me.

Oh, I don't mean I make them my pets, or something silly like that. I mean that I cook them. I'm no chef, but have you ever tasted roasted dormouse? It's very good.

Especially if they are alive when you roast them. The cries alone are worth the wait.

And, then, of course...children.

Yes, I AM that cruel.

And they. Taste. Delightful.

I know what you're thinking: "How can you be so...mean?" Well, let me put it to you this way: if the last bit of meat you had was made from a young one, would you still have eaten it?

I thought so.

I don't really care if they are innocent, small, and barely have even begun their time in the world...as a matter of fact, that is exactly what makes them so much fun.

Now, I don't mean this about ALL prey-children. I don't even know about fish until they are already in my mouth. As for birds...well, with them, it depends. I can't quite find it in myself to hunt down the chicks in the nest; henfan, if I'm going to do that, I might as well just wait for the mother to return, so I can have some more. However, if one falls from the nest, they're usually just "dead meat" anyway. I simply hurry the process along. Personally, I see it as a mercy-killing, so to speak.

But rodents? Ohh...they are just so SWEET. I never bite or chew them...or, at least, not usually...and, believe me, as horrible (for them) as being swallowed alive must be (I never have been, but I can guess what it's like), it doesn't hurt; natural pain-killers in my saliva see to that. But there is something you need to know about me, and predators in general: I can smell...even TASTE...fear. My prey is terrified enough when it's an adult. But children...mmm...let me tell you something: when you have a child, so small that if you put it in your mouth it will slide down without you even swallowing, the size of a peppermint candy between your teeth...sobbing and squiggling beneath your paw...when that child is at your mercy, and you realize how many truly amusing things you can do to that child...the thought quickly coming to you, that it's short, soon-to-be-tortured life is in your claws...

...Purrrrrrrr...

...THEN, my friend, you will know the true meanings of the words "power" and "pleasure."

Or, rather, you WOULD, if I intended to let you go.

You see, unfortunately for you, little rat, I'm hungry.

And YOU are looking pretty tasty.

Ha! Am I insane?! Completely! Don't you know...?

WE'RE ALL MAD HERE.

Author's Note: Next update: the Mad Hatter.