The blonde lady had no idea how she got to this godforsaken utopia of the insane. Maybe she was sleeping and the foreign food that she ate the night before had finally taken its toll on her? Or, perhaps, was she simply hallucinating the whole scenario? Nevertheless, she finds herself back in time, it seems, and back to her childish antics.
It was quite queer when the young lady Alice walked up and down the path of Wonderland. Of course, the entirety of the blasted grounds of play was already queer before this recording of the paragraph even began. So, in taking all of this information, would it be considered queer-y? Alice might have been a sweet and diligent student, but her pinafore held no dictionary.
"How queer, " she mutters to herself when she comes across a pompous looking man atop a table. Today, instead of a bright, slightly insane smile, a put out pout was worn. The Victorian style dress he preferred appeared to be bland and too boring for Alice. Again, the queer-i-ness of Wonderland (which Alice was highly aware of) was getting quite queer-ier.
"Mr. Mad Hatter," she called out in an effort to cheer him up. What use was being mad, if you weren't the slightest bit happy? However, when her own words echoed in her ears, the queer-ness of the astounding world, Wonderland…it ailed her too. It was quite the queer plague, actually.
Ignoring the 'queer epidemic' as Alice was going to start calling it, she tentatively sat down at the tea table and poured herself a spot of tea. Quietly, she gazed into the murky depths of the swirling tea leaves. Without thinking anything of the queer situation at hand, her rosy lips neared the brim of the china.
"Now, now, Miss Alice," the Mad Hatter chided madly," you absolutely cannot drink without moving down!"
Wagging his fingers at her, he took her mug, walked on the tablecloth, and plopped down on the middle of the party. Seeing that the queer-ness of the scenario was now dissipating (Hatter was always rude, mind you) the young girl hastened to appropriate seating by the Hatter's standards.
"Much better, hm?" The Mad Hatter admonished as he lazily pulled out sugar cubes from the brim of his top hat.
"Quite," Alice mutually responded. She would much rather endure the inconsideration and humiliation put upon her, than the previous queerness. It was quite entertaining to see his slender fingers drop sugar cubes without a care into her teacup, never overflowing.
"Do you mean quite-quite, or quite quiet, Miss Alice," the Mad Hatter ventured.
Now that was unexpected, Alice thought. Was the queer epidemic finally overtaken the poor Englishman's mind? No, she decides as she witnesses the never-ending flow of sugar cubes. Perhaps this was another riddle, one that she can easily answer seeing that it came from her own words, her own paragraph of context.
"Quite the opposite, really," Alice admits as she glances at the sugar that still rains down into her cup. Right now, she needed to fulfill her country's tradition of teatime, but how could the young lady undertake that daring maneuver when older gent was hoarding her necessary china? Needless to say, she was feeling very passive aggressive at that moment. "Sometimes, I don't mean what I say."
Hoping that satisfied Hatter's hunger for whimsical solutions to equally ridiculous problems, she leaned back in her chair, a slight smirk on her fair face. Yet, the insane man was not done with the discussion.
"My dear, if you don't mean what you say sometimes, whose to say that you're not meaning it right now?" Alice furrowed her eyes in confusion. Perhaps it would have been best if Mad Hatter had the queer epidemic. Not noticing Alice's evident lack of insight, he just kept on going.
"Whose to say that other people never mean what they all the time? Or they always mean what they say?" Bright blue eyes pinned Alice in her seat, a queer look in his eyes.
That scared Alice.
"That's a queer way to explain roundabout things," she mildly replies as she watches the tea of hers never quite reaching the brim of the glass. "Why, isn't never meaning what you say a lie?" Her nose was cutely scrunched in childish understanding as she tried to process the information fully. "How queer," she mumbles. "How queer."
"Queer as telling a bold lie moments before?" A slender eyebrow met the rim of his tall hat, an entertaining sight indeed. "Or queer as breaking a promise?"
"No," Alice shrugs as she keeps her eyes trained on the ever-dropping sugar. She dared not look up at the older male. "Queer, I believe is an adjective, a describing word of sorts." Quickly, she ransacks her mental capacity to retrieve a proper explanation.
"Queer is quite the silly word, is it not?" The Mad Hatter cheekily inquires as he lay on his back, coattails splayed on either side of him. It was quite comical, especially from a spectator's point of view that he blatantly ignored the bumps of china, saucers, and whatnot. He practically bathed in the uncomfortable location that he chose to inflict upon himself. Still, as the blonde noticed, his steady going fingers never wavered in his idle job.
"Not regarding the silliness, but…but it means out of the ordinary," her clear bright blue eyes scanned her surroundings in earnest. "Would it be queer or silly, that your companions are not here?" Obviously, she was referring to the bossy March Hare and sleepy Dormouse. It was also painfully clear that their lack of presence was quite silly…or queer.
"Or would it be the result of a falling out? Or a break of a promise?" Even though he was staring directly at her, his trajectory of his sugar never missed their watery target. Alice's keen sense of her whereabouts made sure of that observation.
"How would you fall out as the result? Or promise a break?" It was plain as crystal that she acted queer—queer-er than the residents of Wonderland, that is. Laughing awkwardly, the blonde reached out to grasp the handle of her porcelain cup. Unfortunately, the resident hatter refused to let go.
"It seems that you have grown quite queer, after you left your precious Wonderland," the Mad Hatter whispers. Carefully, he places a finger under her chin beckoning her to look at him. "Why is it so, Alice? Why so queer?"
Guilt overpowers her as she finally urges the cup out if his hand. Feeling quite juvenile, she averts her glassy orbs away from her old friend. Her hands, pale, slender, and beautiful now seemed old, aged. Again, she tries ignore the wise eyes of her old playmate and to retain her dignity… and possibly something else.
"That's quite absurd, Mr. Hatter," she cries out in false jesting. Alice refuses to see the queer-i-ness of her childhood sanctuary. Refuses to see that she has changed. Refused to see that things have to change. She refuses, and Hatter has to yield.
"Time has affected you quite queer-ily," the Mad Hatter merely observes. A hand reached the edge of his hat, withdrawing a single cube. "Isn't that silly?"
His fingers let go of the sugar and it flew dead center into the sea of tea. For once a drop of steamy liquid—
"Time is silly," she agrees.
-fell to the ground.
"You were quite the silly girl, an absurd adolescent, and a queer budding woman. Quite queer," he mutters thoughtfully as he stares at the now empty seat. "Well," as he pours himself another cup of tea," time waits for no one…
"… Which, in my opinion, is quite queer."
Seeing that I'm still alive (Curse you Mayans!) I might as well celebrate by posting this. So read, enjoy, and review! Besides, wouldn't it be absurd not to?