I don't own Alice's Adventures in Wonderland A very little bit of dialouge is taken out of or based heavily on the book, especially at the part where Alice is talking to the Chesire Cat. The way the Mad Hatter and the March Hare laugh is directly from a scene I acted in (as Alice!) and the way our director told the Mad Hatter and the March Hare to laugh, and the way the March Hare says wine is exactly how our March Hare siad wine. Speaking of which, I spelled wine pheonetically or else it would be hard for you to read (just wait 'til you read that part). I'm sorry this chapter is so short; I have outlined chapter three already though, so hopefully it will be up by next weekend.

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This was the biggest adventure I had ever had, and the only one I had ever wished was imaginary. It had taken three days (at least, three Wonderland days) after my encounter with the Cook, the Duchess and the Duchess's pig-baby to get the pepper completely out of my eyes and nose. And the Chesire Cat had been following me ever since I had first laid eyes on him in the Duchess's kitchen, confusing me with his riddles. His grotesque grin haunted my daytime hallucinations, brought on by walking for days on end with little sleep and no food. I reached into one of my apron pockets to see if I had even a half a biscuit in it, but instead drew out my little silver thimble. If I only had my comfits... I thought, as I reached in my pocket again and drew out my empty comfit tin, remembering how I had to give them away as prizes after the Caucus-race. I already knew there was nothing in there as I had already checked several times a day, but there was always hope.

Today, like all other days, I had been walking. How long, I don't know; I had been in a forest a lot of the time, a very dark forest with odd creatures and noises that were even more strange. My face was scratched and my clothes, stiff with my own dried salt tears, were torn and dirty. I had not seen a mirror in very long, but there was no doubt my hair was in a state similar to my clothing. I still smelled a little like the smoke from the Caterpillar's hookah.

Needless to say, I was not presentable for a tea party.

But the Chesire Cat, as always, had other ideas.

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I ran into him as he perched up in an oak tree, grinning and mumbling something about mome raths. "So there you are!"

My voice had brought him from his reverie. "Oh, hello, Alice. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"If you're talking about the weather, yes it is. But if you speak about the day in general, no, it is indeed not a 'lovely day'," I replied, crossing my arms angrily.

"So cynical. Tsk, tsk," he clucked. "Ooh, have a rather nasty crick in my neck." He turned his head all the way around, then turned it back again, making disgusting clicking noises all the way. "Ahh, so much better. Oh, excuse me. Where were we?"

"You were just about to tell me how to find my way home," I lied.

"Oh, that's easy; home is where one's heart is. Or is it where you hang your hat..." he looked at me. "I think it must be where one's heart is, since you're not wearing a hat."

I made a frustrated noise and stomped my left foot twice. "Do stop talking nonsense, and give me a straight answer!"

"You can't get a straight answer here. We're all too mad to do that!"

"But... I don't want to live among... mad people!"

"Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here."

"Except me."

"Including you, Alice. I remember watching a little girl scold herself for cheating in a game of croquet she played against herself."

"That was different!"

He perked up. "Speaking of which, did you play croqet with the queen today?"

His sudden topic change had not taken me off my guard; it was something I was used to by now. "No. Your directions are confusing."

"Or maybe you're too mad to understand them."

"Maybe I'm not mad enough! Only a resident of Bedlam could understand you!"

"I will make it simple. In that direction lives a Hatter," he said as he pointed to he right with his left arm, "and in that direction lives the March Hare," he continued, pointing to the left with his right arm. "Visit either one you like, they're both as insane as you and I."

"I told you, I'm not mad!"

"Well, of course you are," he said, dropping his arms. "Why else would you have come here?"

Without answering, I stormed off in the direction of the March Hare's house, not thinking about how had not given me directions home or to the Queen's palace, because I was too busy wondering exactly why I had come here.

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I stood at the gate of the white picket fence, beating as much dirt as I could off my dress. I took off my apron. I wonder if anyone would notice if I put it on outside-in... I mean, rightside-out! Maybe I am going mad. Do mad people think backwards? I finally decided on putting my apron back on the right way, even though the inside was cleaner. Maybe if I looked pitiful the March Hare would feed me. I took another look at the fence. It looked freshly whitewashed. I sighed, and finger-combed my hair, then put it into a braid to hide the most difficult of the knots and snarls.

Opening the gate, I stepped into even more madness. I saw a table, set for a tea party of fifty, and a well. I hurried over to the well, glad for the chance to wash my face and hands. After drying my face with my hankerchief, I once again turned to the table, walking closer and closer, 'til I could catch snatches of a song that sounded distanly familiar...

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat..."

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"I really should have known by then to not follow Chesire's instructions--well, suggestions, really."

The young man looked up from his crumpet and paused, obviously not knowing what to say.

Mrs. Greenwood shook her head as if she was trying to shake off some unpleasant thought, then continued with her story.

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"No room!"

"There is plenty of room!" The argument between myself, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter, a little man with a bulbous red nose, had continued on for quite some time.

"Have some WHY-ene," the Hare offered, dragging out "wine" and turning it's original one syllable into two.

"I don't see any 'WHY-ene'."

"There isn't any!" They both laughed, insane, mad laughter for four seconds. Then they both instantly calmed down and went back to sipping their tea.

"Father, Mr. Hare, please let the poor girl sit down. Time will forget about what time he wants it to be here soon enough, and we may need her help with the dishes." My head whipped around, and I was looking at a young man my age. I assumed he was the Mad Hatter's son; there was a certain family resemblance, and they both had the same dark hair and fair skin--but the young man's nose wasn't nearly as big as his father's, and his clothes and hat, though their colors were still bright and unusual, were a lot more tasteful. He was also a great deal more attractive.

"Please, Miss, be seated," he said as he pulled out a chair for me. Reaching for a plaid teapot, he poured some steaming tea into a teacup with painted violets. "Sugar?" he asked. I nodded and asked for one lump. Stirring it in for me, he handed me the cup. "I'm Theophilus Hatter," he said, taking a seat next to me and began pouring his own tea.

"Alice Greenwood," I replied, wondering if I had finally found a sane being in this nonsensical world.

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As always, PLEASE read and review! I'm an attention whore, I know... but if you want me to keep writing, please, feed my big ego!