Hey Ya'll! It feels to good have some free time to work on all my fanfics. Now I can torture Dally 24/7! Hooray! Sorry that last chapter sucked. I hope that this one's better!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders or Alice In Wonderland (but if I did *evil laugh*)

Chapter 7

The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill I

It was the White Rabbit, marching slowly back again, and looking cautiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and he heard it muttering to itself, "The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my freaking paws! Oh my chucks and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as dogs are dogs! Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?" Dallas guessed in a moment that it was looking for the leopard-print hat and the pair of white kid-gloves, and he unconsciously began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since his swim in the pool; and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.

Very soon the Rabbit noticed Dallas, as he went hunting about, and called out to him, in an dangerous tone, "Why, Douglas Dan, what are you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a hat! Quick, now!" And Dallas frowned for a second about to tell this creature off without trying to explain the mistake that it had made. It was then that he realized something and decided to play along.

"Sure thing your furriness." And took off.

"He took me for his fucking servant," he said to herself as he ran. "Well little guy's gonna get one hell of a surprise when he finds out who I am! But I'd better take him his hat and gloves—that is, IF I can find them." As he said this, he came upon a nice decked out little house, on the door of which was a bright bronze plate with the name "G. RABBIT" engraved upon it. He went in without knocking, and raced upstairs, as to not come in contact with the real Douglas Dan, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.

"Well if this isn't weird I don't know what is," Dallas said to himself, "Going messages for a damn rabbit! I suppose Mickey Mouse'll be sending me on messages next!" And for a while he began fancying the sort of thing that would happen.

By this time he had found his way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as he had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid-gloves: he took up the leopard-print hat and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when his eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. Not THIS shit again! There was no label this time with the words "DRINK ME," but nevertheless he uncorked it and put it to his lips. "I know something's about to go down," he said to himself, "whenever I eat anything or drink anything: so I'll see what the hell this bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow again, because if I'm stuck as midget for another minute, I'm going to lose it!"

It did so indeed, and much sooner than Dallas had expected: he hadn't even drunken half the bottle, and he found his head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save his neck from being broken. He hastily put down the bottle, saying to himself "Okay! Okay! That's enough—Good Glory!—I can't even get out the fucking door—I wish I hadn't drank so much! Why the hell did I drink so much?"

Alas! It was too late to wish that! He went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and he tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round his head. Still he went on growing, and, as a last resource, he threw one arm out of the window, and shot one foot up the chimney, and had an epiphany "Man, I did all I could. What happens, happens."

Luckily for Dallas, the little magic bottle had reached its ultimate effect, and he grew no larger: still it was crazy uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of him ever exiting the room again, no wonder he was so pissed.

"Life was so much better back home," thought poor Dallas, "when nobody wasn't always growing Big and Small, and being bitched at by mice and rabbits. I wish I hadn't jumped down that stupid rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it's like a mystery, you know, this…whatever the hell is happening to me! I do wonder what's gonna happen to me! Whenever I listened to Pony reading those stories, I always thought, There's no way in hell that can happen, and now here I am in the middle of one! They're gonna write books about this, books about ME! And when I grow up I'll be the richest greaser on the whole East Side—but I'm grown up now," he added in a sorrowful tone: "well there's no room to grow up any more here."

Oh no...Dally falling into a really dark depression...again. You know what would make him happy? Lots of reviews! And cancer sticks! :p