A/N: Don't ask me why I wrote this fic. I can't think of a single reason.
And if it's wrong to love Lewis Carroll as much as I do, to hell with being right.
"Collins, what does 'uffish' mean?"
"Hmm?" Collins answered, looking up from the school papers he was grading. Joanne, who was sitting opposite him across the table, rolled her eyes and continued to work (she had worked out a system with Collins; he graded the material in the paper and she found the spelling mistakes).
"Uffish…what's it mean?" Maureen asked again. She was lying, stomach skyward, on the loft's couch. Rain was pounding the sidewalk outside, so everyone had gravitated to the loft for the day. Until recently, Maureen had been reading and occasionally blowing bubbles in her gum (blue raspberry-flavored, in cane anyone cared). Mark was putting new labels over the faded tags on his several thousand reels of film, while Roger was writing in his song notebook and swearing under his breath every few minutes. Angel and Mimi were playing Go Fish, with one slight twist; Mimi was hanging upside down from one of the thick metal pipes that snaked across the loft's ceiling. If she hooked her knees around the pipe and let herself fall backwards, she dangled down just far enough to reach the deck of cards on the floor. Supposedly, hanging like this helped tone her thigh muscles. Everyone pretty much knew that was crap, but for Roger's sake (e.g. the anti-gravity performed on Mimi's various appendages when she was upside down), they left her alone.
"Maureen, honey, are you sure you're not pronouncing it wrong?" Angel asked, picking up a card from the deck. Maureen rolled over and frowned.
"U-F-F-I-S-H. Nope."
"What psycho uses words like 'uffish'?" Mark wondered aloud, scribbling something on a label with a Sharpie. Maureen checked the name on the book she was reading.
"Lewis Carroll does, apparently."
"Jesus, Maureen, you have such a thick skull," Collins groaned. Maureen stuck her tongue out at him.
"Why does she have a thick skull? Threes, Angel, now," Mimi said, directing the question at Collins and the demand at Angel. Angel sighed and forked over two threes.
"Because otherwise she'd remember who Lewis Carroll was and she wouldn't have to interrupt me in the middle of wondering why college students don't use spellcheckers," Joanne snapped, cutting off Collins's answer. He shrugged in agreement and craned his head forward to catch a glimpse of the paper she was bent over.
"Whose paper is that, Jo?" he asked. She checked the name.
"Um…Wilson Nitram."
"Ugh. Put that one away for later, it'll take you ages. I swear, that boy has issues with words…" Collins grabbed the paper away from her and cleared a place in the mess for it. He handed her a thick paper from the stack of ones he was done with. "Here, do Ani Di's. She's not perfect, but she's better than Wilson." Joanne nodded and took the paper from him.
"Um, excuse me, but isn't anyone going to tell me what 'uffish' means?" Maureen whined. Roger shot her a death glare and threw his pen down, pushing away his notebook. She ignored him.
"Maureen, I don't think it's a word," Mimi said, handing three sevens to Angel. Maureen started to look like a little kid who was considering a tantrum.
"I don't care, it's in this poem! And what the hell did you mean by remembering who Lewis Carroll is, Joanne?" she barked. Joanne ground her teeth together and looked up at Maureen for a second time.
"I meant that Lewis Carroll is famous for writing poems and stories like 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'Jabberwocky', where the language is basically all made up. Ever heard of 'Through The Looking Glass', maybe? God, Maureen, 'uffish' is a fake word, okay? That simple enough for you?" Having said this, Joanne turned back to her work.
It was unclear just how loud Maureen might have yelled in her response in Angel had intervened with impressive speed. She scooted up from the ground by Mimi's upside down head and was perched on the couch armrest within seconds. Angel leaned over and read the title of the poem in Maureen's book.
"'Jabberwocky'. Guess you were right, Jo. What's it about, Maureen?" Maureen, sidetracked from her initial explosion, awkwardly twisted around to face Angel.
"I can't figure the damn thing out, and I've been trying for the past twenty minutes. That's why I was asking about 'uffish', Joanne. For clarification," she stressed, making her indignation as obvious as possible. Joanne rolled her eyes and circled a word with red pen. Angel scanned the first few lines of text over Maureen's shoulder.
"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
all mimsy were the borogoves,
and the mome raths outgrabe," she read aloud. By the time she was done, everyone was looking at her. Mark's face was creased with confusion.
"Wait…what?" he asked uncertainly. Collins ducked his head to keep from laughing, and Mimi (exhibiting very impressive stomach muscles) curled herself upwards to sit on the pipe she had been hanging from. Shaking back her hair, she crossed her legs like some strange bird on a tree branch.
"That's all weird and freaky and great and crap, but where's 'uffish'? I didn't hear it."
"It's further on," Maureen said, pointing at the spot on the page with her finger. Angel slid forward a little (by now she was practically sitting on Maureen's calves) and squinted as she read the passage.
"And, as in uffish thought he stood,
the Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
and burbled as it came!"
"Wait…what?" Mark asked again, sounding a little desperate. No one paid any attention to him.
"Who's the he?" Roger asked sullenly from the corner, as though he was reluctant to stop sulking and actually rejoin society. Collins shot him a look.
"Nice of you to act like a human being, Roger. Ang, read the whole poem. I remember it from a poster someone left in my classroom a while ago. It's pretty freaky."
Angel nodded. "I'll read from the beginning…but Mo, can I have the book? My back is sort of killing me."
Maureen handed over the book and sat up, drawing her legs out from under Angel, who settled down on the end of the couch. Maureen flopped around and ended up on her back again, only this time with her head on Angel's leg. Angel rolled her eyes and rested the book on Maureen's forehead as she read.
"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
When she finished, everyone stayed silent. Then Mark, who had dropped the Sharpie and labels a while ago, slowly raised one fist and smacked his forehead with it three times.
"WAIT, WHAT!?" they all chorused along with him.
Pointless. Poor Marky.