I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

I Begin to Stink of Cheese


Ah, I remember well the first time I met with those odd denizens of the Great Library.

It was the day I first began to stink of cheese.

Because you see, living below in the depths of a land that's forgotten you and whose ruler wants you dead, can make one greedy. And desperate.

But don't worry. I promised in the last chapter I'd keep this one light.

And so I shall.

My employer, David, the man who ran the tea shop, asked me one day if I wanted to spit in the face of the Queen of Hearts.

I thought he meant literally.

I said yes on the spot.

And he sent me, with very detailed instructions, to the last stronghold of the Resistance.

The Great Library.

I was a bit disappointed, if I'm to be honest.

I'd been excitedly practicing working up me best rutabaga and mash salvia in preparation for the brilliant snark-a-lugie-and-run attack sequence I'd created in me feverish head.

And now I had to go talk to normal people on whom I could not spit.

Well, probably couldn't.

Most likely.

Nevertheless, I dutifully followed David's directions. Finally after much sideskitting and doublebacking to make sure I wasn't trailed, arrived at a dingy green door that looked like all the others.

When I banged on said door, a small rectangular slit of a peephole opened.

All I could see was a wizen, shrunken mouth behind which peeked gray, pocked teeth.

Ratty? No, no stink of rats.

"How doth the Crocodile improve its shining tail?"

I nearly fell over at the puff of rancid breath accompanying the recitation of the ancient text.

Got to add mouth cleaner to that supply list. Ugh.

For a second the stench was so bad, I forgot me words and panicked. They'd never let me in if I wasn't confident and sure, I'd been told.

Finally after endless seconds, it came to me.

"And pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale," I replied, feeling for the first time, and definitely not the last, like a complete wanker.

The door creaked open and I was hurried right into . . . a bus.

Yeah, okay, nothing strange 'bout that, I'm sure. It's a bus. In a elevator shaft. In a building. Yeah.

The bent, gaunt, bearded octogenarian wore a little hat perched sideways atop his gray head and all I could think was 'duck'.

Without another word to me, he slammed a few gears and switches this way 'n that.

And with a sudden jerk, we plummeted downward.

I grabbed hold of a standing pole to refrain falling forward on me face and willed me guts to stay in their place as the tottery old guy hummed tunelessly to himself, staring out the front window at the blank grey wall.

Oh Jabberwock bollocks, I'm gonna die, I thought. He's mad as a box of frogs and I'm gonna die.

With another bone-jarring jerk, our bizarre transport stopped and I looked around, trying to quell me green gills.

I glanced at ancient man again, remembering to act all calm and smooth and not like I was about to heave me kumquats.

He jerked a gnarly hand toward the exit and I stumbled gracelessly out into the corridor of the Great Library.

And into the face of a short barreled shotgun.

Behind it was an equally gaunt, stern-looking woman wearing a housedress and sporting thick, pointy glasses, pursed lips, and a multicolored scarf that I swear was tied up like ears around the top of her head.

I gazed at this new creature and all I could think now was 'owl'.

"We haven't seen you here before," she trilled distrustfully.

But maybe she wasn't really as old and craggy as she looked though. I was a believer in the possibility of people after all.

Maybe she was really a peacock underneath all the drabness there. A little sun, a new dress, pull down that scarf . . .

Nope, still a ruddy owl. Poor bugger.

"Yeah," I replied easily, keeping me hands peacefully raised in surrender. "I'm Hatter."

I touched me hat politely and offered her me best smile.

"What do you want?" she demanded, completely ignoring all me attempts at civility and grace.

As if it's not obvious, my owlish dove? I wanted to futterwacken with you right here in the middle of the ruins of the Great Library.

But that statement would probably get me shot right in the handsome mug so instead of saying that, I simply told the truth.

"I'm here to see Dodo."

She narrowed her eyes still further at me as the human duck piped up in me left ear. His voice was reedy and grizzled. I subtly held me breath to avoid the reek.

"Nobody sees Dodo. Nobody even knows who or where he is. Especially not strangers. Get back on the bus!"

I hazarded a glance back and replied cheekily.

"Really?"

I gestured to me pockets and the old woman watched me like a hawk (ahem, sorry, owl) as I reached down and drew out me own piece de resistance that David had given me to give them for just this occasion.

Cheese.

Little round wheels of cheese. Hardly more than a bite or two. But you'd thought I was waving around the best of the Queen's coveted tarts the way her beady little eyes (and his, I'd wager) followed them.

I held one aloft toward her and one back over me shoulder to him without breaking eye contact with the birdy little thing.

Silence reined in the corridor for only the briefest of moments.

Then the proffered cheese got the best of them both.

"Okay, Hatter," she relented, still obviously trying to sound rough and tough. "But one wrong move from you and I'll blow that pretty head to bits."

I smiled winningly at her as she snatched her smelly bribe from me hand.

And just couldn't help meself.

"Guns, yeah, cheers and all. But 'ave you seen me sledgehammer?"

A baffled expression greeted me as she glanced back over at the human duck behind me. I could practically feel him shrug as they began to unwrap their delicacies.

"Uh, there may be one at the construction site."

I refrained from facepalming meself.

I could only hope their boss would be a little more savvy.


And he was.

A little too much so for me liking.

Dodo was the last of his kind. And by that I mean he was the last fat, swarthy refugee in Wonderland. His generous girth made even more obvious by the aforementioned Owl and Duck flanking him like derelict, scarecrow sentinels.

"You must be Hatter," he proclaimed somewhat dismissively.

His voice was just as broad and round as the rest of him. He sounded like he was trying to eat the words themselves.

I nodded, thinking that unfortunately I was flat out of bribes and sweeties to give to him. Not that he would need it, judging by his generous proportions.

"And you're the infamous Dodo," I responded. "Glad to see you looking so well-fed in these hard 'n scrabble times."

He smiled darkly then . . .

How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws . . .

Chilling the blood in me veins . . .

. . . and welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws!

. . . And the thought occurred to me that in his own way, he might be just as dangerous and mad as the Queen herself.

Then as I was musing over this new disturbing consideration, he got right to the point.

"You have been sent here by our mutual associate because our food stores are running low and our previous supplier is . . . no longer available to assist us. We need you to procure whatever you can for the poor starving souls hiding out here in the Great Library. They're depending on you now."

I nodded, trying to keep me outer countenance calm and blank even as me inner voice ran squawking and flapping around the darkened room like the rotund, flightless bird this madman so resembled.

Yeah, sure, of course. But honestly . . . Dodo, is it? If everybody's feeling a bit empty and peckish, you sure you're portioning properly? There's definitely a sizable discrepancy between your circumference and those two lanky sods over there.

Good boy I am, though. I managed to keep me mouth shut.

That time, anyway.


Hello again, ladies and gents!

Apologies for the delay. Me computer mate, NotMarge, went somewhat mental on some television program called American Horror Story. She even duct taped me to a chair and made me watch it, much to my dismay. And threatened to take away me hat if I didn't stop closing me eyes. I will say this for it, it is interestin'. Ya never know who's going to say or do what and frankly, I think Dee and Dum would really enjoy it. Though it might give them too many new fresh ideas. I mean, blimey, they've already got a headstart on the Rubber Man outfit, ya know?

All that aside, I finally stole her laptop while she was in the loo and hid meself in this closet to pen this chapter. Hope you've enjoyed the read and appreciate the outright danger I've put meself in to write it.

Thanks to ChiefPam (yeah, you should only listen to me; NotMarge is something of a lunatic at times but don't tell her I said), rats xp (relative of my ratcatcher pal, perhaps?), Bunny's daughter (you mean the Easter Bunny? Oh, love, you gotta stop by for a chat; I've got loads of questions), Penelope Zozes (thanks for the encouragement, then, I appreciate that, you know),

Thanks also to Ranger-of-ash (interestin' moniker you got there yourself) and Roazhonad (not sure I can pronounce that but I'm glad you're here all the same) for adding your support to my story.

Uh-oh, me thinks I hear footsteps outside me closet door. Cheers!