This little puppy was cooked up in the wee hours of New Year's Day. Yay for four in the morning fanfiction!
Summary: A mysterious and utterly irrelevant someone drops a white rabbit off on the Mad Hatter's doorstep. He falls in love with the spastic creature, but has no food for such a pet. So off to the pet store he goes! Can a man as insane as Jervis Tetch care for another living thing without accidentally killing it?
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As the saying went, March roared in like a lion and pranced fancifully out like a lamb totally ignorant of its impending death in the slaughterhouse. Right now, the lion was out terrorizing innocent villagers and eating their livestock. The wind whistled through the city and the rain pelted anyone who had to venture outside. The sky was as gray as slate, the sun looked as though it had retired and was never coming back out, and the denizens of Gotham were all in varying states of depression because it felt like real Spring was never going to appear.
All the denizens of Gotham, that was, except for the Mad Hatter. He was too crazy and too lost in his own head to be negatively affected by anything as insignificant as sleet or gale force winds. He hummed Twinkle, Twinkle Little Bat as he strolled through the deserted streets. Even the hobos that would have normally inquired about spare change had retreated to their various cardboard shelters and abandoned buildings.
Jervis Tetch had good reason to be in a positive mood. Someone had left a cardboard box on his doorstep this morning, and the box had contained only a single, albino rabbit and a little straw. The rabbit was utterly insane, running under furniture and screaming--yes, rabbits can indeed scream, children--whenever Tetch so much as looked at it, yet he was madly endeared with the creature. Unfortunately, he had no carrots or rabbit pellets handy at his home to feed his new pet.
So, here he was, walking to the pet store. Which was fifteen blocks from his home. Had he owned a car, the drive would have taken only minutes and he would not have gotten soaking wet. However, since he had gone insane several years back, his driver's license had been revoked. The DMV was very reluctant to re-issue one, especially since the Hatter had a terrible driving record with the few cars he had stolen. Most villains could hotwire anything given sixty seconds; Tetch could rarely get a car door open in that time.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat. How I wonder what you're at," Jervis sang.
Normally, while out in public, he didn't sing. If people failed to notice his enormous hat, his equally oversized bowtie, or his uneven speech pattern, his singing voice never failed to draw their attention. And most of what they said about it was cruel. Once, a man mistook him for William Hung, and asked for an autograph. Tetch had slipped a mind-control chip into the man's cap and had ordered him to consume an entire pickup truck. By the time the police finally arrived, the man had eaten half a tire.
Because the sidewalk was clear in all directions, Jervis didn't suppress himself. The tune made the walk seem shorter, the wind less blustery, and the rain less icy. He could almost imagine he was in Wonderland, sitting down to an eternity of tea.
When the wind blew his umbrella inside out, the Hatter failed to take notice and correct the problem. Thanks to that oversight, he was now fully exposed to the rain. True, plenty of water had sneaked in under the umbrella, but now he didn't have any protection at all.
By the time Jervis got to the pet store, he was shivering from the cold. He was still smiling, and the thought of his adorable furry friend kept his spirits up. He took a moment to examine a roly-poly puppy that peered out hopefully from behind a plate glass display window before entering the cramped store.
Pets N You was sandwiched between a Chinese food buffet and a shoe store. There were persistent rumors that unsold cats ended up in the eggrolls, and unsold snakes ended up as cowboy boots. Both rumors were unfounded.
Tetch was an easily distracted man. He momentarily forgot what he had come into the store for when he spotted a cage full of white mice. They were very cheap, and very numerous. Though they weren't dormice, he was sure they would love to participate in a tea party with him.
Tearing his eyes off the swarm of mini-rats, the Hatter was pulled as though by magnets to an aquarium. Three turtles swam in the water, while a fourth rested on a rock. Tetch put his hands on the glass and peered at them.
"Are they mock turtles?" Tetch asked the cashier.
The young man looked up from the book he was engrossed with. "How the hell should I know? Read that sticker on the tank."
The sticker did not explain whether these were true turtles, or mock turtles. It only recommended a few brands of specialty turtle food. Deciding it wasn't worth the risk, Tetch moved on. The turtles were actually box turtles.
"Food for a white rabbit, food for a white rabbit."
"What?" The cashier barked.
"Oh, I was merely talking to myself," The Hatter replied.
The man flashed him a glare. Tetch smiled a large, charming and somehow totally malevolent smile. The cashier hastily returned to his novel.
In the back of the store, next to large bags of pine wood shavings, Tetch found the rabbit food. He grabbed all four available boxes, and then several types of treats that were guaranteed to please not only bunnies but also guinea pigs, mice, and hamsters. Seeing the little curious mouse picture on one of the rodent treats made him desire the store's stock of domestic vermin even more.
Tetch dumped the food on the counter. Sighing loudly, as though ringing up nine items caused him great strain, the clerk began to sort through the boxes. The Hatter stopped him.
"I want the mice, too."
"Why in the hell do you want them?"
"Because they remind me of dormice and my white rabbit is alone."
"Whatever. Hold on, let me go and get the fish net. I'm not touching them; they're all probably diseased with the plague or something."
Gotham had never, in its long and often bloody history, suffered an outbreak of Bubonic Plague. If told this, the clerk would have snorted and claimed the mice had AIDS, instead.
The clerk returned, fish net in hand. He had also gotten a cardboard box to stick the mice in on their journey home. At least he was kind enough not to force the mice into Tetch's many pockets.
"How many do you want?"
The Hatter bit his lip in consideration. "All of them."
"Are you going to feed them to a snake?"
"Heavens no! Who do you take me for, the Queen of Hearts?"
"Just asking. I'm supposed to, so no psycho gets them and tortures them. Me, I don't care. They're just mice."
Jervis strongly considered sticking a mind-control card in the cashier's greasy locks, but held back temporarily. He didn't want to frighten the mice before he could befriend them.
Catching mice with a fish net was slow work. After five minutes of trying, the cashier had captured less than a quarter of the mice. Jervis was beginning to worry his rabbit would begin to eat the sofa.
"May I try?" Jervis asked.
"Yeah, if you want to touch them, be my guest."
Without sustaining a single bite or picking up a single dreaded disease, the Hatter transferred the remaining seventeen mice to their box. The box was so filled with squeaking creatures that it shook and rattled on the floor. The clerk regarded the dancing box as one would a naked man breaking into one's home.
"Want any other nasty pets to take with you? I got a tarantula I can sell you."
"No!"
"What, afraid of spiders? You know what, never mind. I don't want to touch the tarantula, either."
While the cashier returned to his register, Tetch took one final look around Pets N You. Though he believed the clerk was the singular rudest man he had ever been served by, the store in general was pleasant. Maybe he would come back at another time, and see if he couldn't solve the mystery of the turtles.
"That'll be 57 dollars and nine cents."
Jervis reached into a pocket and pulled out a single dollar bill. The clerk eyed him in a way that suggested violence was imminent if that was all the money he had.
"Okay, it's 56 dollars and nine cents, now."
The Hatter patted around his coat before finding another pocket. He pulled out an assortment of coins, not all of which were legal American tender, and a half-eaten tea biscuit. He wasn't sure how long the biscuit had been in there.
The cashier sorted through the spilled coins. "We don't accept tokens from the Wonderland Arcade. Jesus, how long has that place been closed down, anyway?"
"Years. Their Jabberwocky was still in fine condition, though. A frightful character, but such an interesting one."
"Holy crap will I be glad when you're out of here. But don't even think about leaving until you finish paying. You still owe 54 dollars and don't pay me with any more pennies or I'm gonna get pissed."
Tetch reached into another pocket with deliberative slowness. He knew exactly what he had in there.
"I want to read about the vampire massacre before the sequel comes out in October. Move it."
The hand only centimeters from closing on the card froze. "Vampire massacre?"
The cashier prodded his discarded book. Tetch got a good look at the cover. Most of the illustration consisted of oozing blood, splattered blood, trickling blood, dried, scabby blood and gouts of fresh blood. What little of the cover wasn't occupied by vital fluid was taken over by a pair of vampires that were in the process of exsanguinating each other. Tetch supposed the winner would be whichever vampire could drink quicker.
"It's like 'Salem's Lot without the plot and crap."
"Then they aren't the same at all." Tetch replied.
"Dude, you're really freaking weird. You're probably going to eat that rabbit food yourself."
"It's for my white rabbit, which is also a March hare. It is March, isn't it?"
"Yeah, for 24 more days. Now stop stalling and pay me. 54 dollars. Now."
The Hatter pulled the card, heavily woven with intricate circuitry, from his pocket. The cashier stared at it for a second.
"Is that some kind of Bluetooth thing?"
"No."
Before the cashier could go for the baseball bat stashed under the counter--he'd been praying for some bastard to try to rob him--Tetch secured the card behind the man's ear. Instantly, the cashier went ramrod straight and his eyes took on a vacant sheen. He was now little more than a fleshy robot.
"Your hair wants cutting. Trim it with something."
Obediently, walking with a slight jerking motion, the clerk proceeded to a display of empty glass fishbowls. He smashed one with his bare hands, miraculously avoiding cutting himself. He selected a dangerously jagged shard and began to cut away his terribly unkempt hair.
Satisfied, Jervis grabbed his dollar bill and his coins and stuffed them back in the appropriate pockets. He then picked up his box of mice and his rabbit food. He forgot about his umbrella entirely.
Shielding the mice inside his coat so the weather wouldn't get to them, Tetch started the long trek back home. He could just imagine what a nice time he would now be able to have. He had a rabbit, he had dormice--at least a proper substitute-- and he had food to keep them happy.
Upon arriving home, the Hatter discovered his March hare had finally worn itself out. It was asleep in the middle of the floor, right next to an overturned tea pot. Tetch picked up the pot and noticed a dent in it that hadn't been there before. Perhaps the rabbit hadn't drifted off to sleep as peacefully as first imagined.
He placed the teapot on a table and then unloaded his pet shop supplies. When both hands were free, he picked up the unconscious rabbit and placed it back in its cardboard box.
The tea party, it appeared, would have to wait. After all, it was the dormouse that was supposed to fall asleep, not the March Hare.
THE END
In case the world has moved on too far to remember, William Hung became famous for his disturbing rendition of She Bangs on American Idol.
Some of the Mad Hatter's lines come directly from Alice in Wonderland, and some do not. The White Rabbit, March Hare, Mock Turtle and Dormouse are all featured in Alice in Wonderland, so if you know nothing about that book, you might not get some of the references.
