Author's Note: And here's the next chapter. And, no, I could not resist throwing in a joke about T.A.R.K. Maybe one of these days I will actually get back to work on his adventures but, as long as I'm in the Newsies fandom, I plan to keep the horror that is T.A.R.K. alive. If you have no clue as to who he is, then you might not understand this scene, but that's alright (and easily remedied). Go check out the fic: T.A.R.K. It's old as hell and quite cheesy/horrible but it illustrates the origin of T.A.R.K. and why he should definitely be locked up in a pot ;) Well, Happy New Year everyone – more C&C coming in the New Year (including the upcoming Refuge scene, woot).

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Disney's live action musical: Newsies. No, I do not own Lewis Carroll's novel, Alice's Adventure's in Wonderland, nor Disney's cartoon version of Alice in Wonderland. I own Stress, her cat Ashes and her fixation with hopping newsies.

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Curiouser and Curiouser

December 30, 2006

Stress has accidentally stumbled into the wonderful world of Newsieland.
Will she ever get back home to New Jersey? Not if the Queen of New York has her way.

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"What the devil is a T.A.R.K.?" Stress asked, her attention solely on the pot. As if the creature inside knew that someone was asking about him – or heard her speak his name – he started to move, which meant that the pot that housed him did as well. It was a great metal thing, similar to a stew pot, if that stew pot could feed thirty people, and the clanking that followed was very loud. In fact, so loud that Stress did not hear the Mad Patch's response.

Not that she cared, really. He could have told her that T.A.R.K. was an acronym for Terrible Author's Resolute Killer and she would still have been nosy enough to lift that lid and peek inside. And that's exactly what she did.

The way Stress figured it, T.A.R.K. could not be that bad. Really, if the animal inside of the pot was that dangerous, well, then wouldn't the Mad Patch of the March Hair try to stop her before she reached for the lid? And, since they didn't, the thing was safe, right? Regardless of the warning.

She was curious and stood from her seat. The other two took that as a sign that they should swap seats again and got up with Stress. However, when they took a new set of seats – still leaving one between them for the girl – Stress climbed up atop of the gigantic table. The pot was in the center and she had to crawl a bit to get beside it.

Her hand paused a few inches away from the top of the lid when she thought she heard something coming from inside the pot. It sounded almost as if T.A.R.K. was… maybe… growling at her.

Stress jerked her hand back and looked at the two idiots who, while she had been moving towards the pot, had already finished off three glasses of the brown liquid. At present moment, the March Hair had climbed up on the table, just like Stress had, but, instead of following the girl, had lain down on her back, hanging her head over the edge of the table. The Mad Patch was trying to dribble the contents of one of the glasses into her waiting mouth. But to make it more difficult, he had pulled on a second oversized patch so that he could not see what he was doing. The result was that the drink was forming a puddle on her chin – which the rabbit-girl was attempting to lap up.

She shook her head. When Timber had said that the Mad Patch and the March Hair were just as off as the rest of them, she had not been kidding. "Umm… hello?"

The Mad Patch stopped slopping the sarsaparilla and took the patch off of his left eye – leaving only the one on his right eye. "Yes?"

The March Hair propped herself up on her elbows, looking surprised that Stress was still there. One of her brown ears flopped forward but a quick slap in its direction caused it to be as erect as its twin. "Yes?"

Stress just stared at the two of them. For a moment, something seemed wrong to her – and not just the fact that the March Hair was part girl, part hare or that the Mad Patch had a grin so wide that she was afraid it was going to split his head open. Forgetting about T.A.R.K. – sometimes it's nice to have such a short attention span; it was just a good thing that no one had anything shiny to distract the girl with – she pointed at the Mad Patch. "Wait a sec… wasn't your patch on the other eye?"

Still grinning goofily, he lifted his hand up to his face. When his fingers felt the patch that covered his right eye, he nodded and switched it to the other side. "Thanks."

That confused Stress (though that was not saying much – a lot of things confused her). "Do you even need your eye patch?"

"Of course, silly," he said, as if he was explaining something to a child. "I wouldn't be called the Mad Patch if I didn't have an eye patch, right?"

"Yeah," added the March Hair, as she climbed down from the table and flopped herself back in her seat. "You shouldn't really ask such obvious questions. Might make people think you're an idiot."

Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black, Stress thought to herself, mildly offended at the March Hair's flippant remark. Pot… "Hey, can you guys tell me what's in that pot?"

The Mad Patch looked at her strangely. "Well, T.A.R.K., duh. Can't you read?"

Stress huffed. "Of course I can read. I just don't know what a T.A.R.K. is."

"Patchy already told you," the March Hair said before making the 'this-ones-a-lulu' crazy motion with her finger. "But if you don't believe him, then go see for yourself."

Not appreciating their taunting in the least – it was even more offensive for crazy people to assume that she's off her trolley; but, then again, if a crazy person thought she was nuts, wouldn't that negate and, therefore, confirm her sanity? Ow… my head… too confusing… – Stress crawled as loudly and heavily as she could, banging her knees against the table, never minding the newsprint that began to stain her jeans. When she reached the pot, she lifted the lid with a flourish, the earlier growls a forgotten memory.

She poked her head inside the great pot and, at first, she did not see anything. She lowered her head in and, there, in the corner – oddly, the inside of the round pot was a square, complete with corners – was a little miniscule person, about three inches high.

Leaning almost all the ways in, her legs all but dangling as she lowered herself down, Stress, using her fingers as pincers, picked up the little person by the back of his shirt. She rocked backwards until her knees were back on the table before taking a good look at T.A.R.K.

He was dressed just like many of the inhabitants of Newsieland – old style newsboy-type clothes – but, remarkably had a head of bright red hair. And, despite being snatched out of his pot by (what he would see as) a giant, he was sleeping soundly.

"Oh, how cute," she cooed as she let the sleeping thing rest in her open palm. She turned back to the other two. "This is the dangerous animal that you keep locked in a huge pot? How cruel."

The Mad Patch shook his head warningly. "He may look cute when he's sleeping but just you wait until he's up."

Stress didn't believe him. Holding the little boy in her hand, she was reminded of her sister's Polly Pockets dolls – not the ones from the early 90's that were three inches high but the newer, flashier models that were as big at T.A.R.K. He was just so adorable that she wanted to see if he could talk. With her pointer finger, she poked him gently in the side. "Hey, buddy. Wake up…"

The small boy stretched out, almost mimicking the way that her cat stretched after a nice, long nap. Stress thought that he could not get any cuter – but that was before he opened his eyes and saw her big head staring down at her. There was a moment of confusion before her tiny captive figured out what was going on.

And then he bit her. Bit her right on the fleshy part of her palm, in between her pointer finger and her middle finger. And it hurt.

She was so surprised that she shook her hand, dropping the vicious little beast to the table. As soon as he landed, right next to her feet, he stood up and started to run. It might have been her imagination, but it seemed that the thing was getting bigger with every step.

Sucking at the bit of blood that he had produced with his bite, while, at the same time, ignoring the snickers that the Mad Patch and the March Hair were not even trying to hide, Stress scooped T.A.R.K. up and, as quickly as she could – she did not want to get bitten again – she tossed him back in his pot. With a quick slam of the lid, he was locked away.

He did not seem to like that; she could almost hear a tiny voice shouting, "Get the lead out of your pants, Gigantor," but she ignored it. T.A.R.K. began to rattle his pot again – so it had been that tiny little thing that moved that massive metal pot – but Stress was annoyed. She kicked the side of the pot and the rattling stopped.

She whirled around and stared at the two who had watched the occurrence as if it were a show. "What the heck was that?"

While the Mad Patch continued to laugh, the March Hair looked as if Stress should have known better. "That was The Annoying Red-headed Kid. What did you expect?"

Which she should have. Every fan of Newsies should know about the horror that was The Annoying Red-headed Kid…

T.A.R.K…The Annoying Red-headed Kid… How had she missed that? "Are you kidding? You let me take that thing out of his pot. What were you thinking? Don't you know what kind of havoc he can cause?" Stress was hurriedly wiping her hands against her jeans, trying to get the T.A.R.K. germs off. And he had bitten her, too… Gross.

Both the Mad Patch and the March Hair were laughing at this point. "Why do you think we kept him in that anti-havoc pot? Wow, you really are slow. And I thought you just looked dumb."

Stress glared as evilly as she could at them both as she stormed off of the table. "You two are very rude."

The March Hair responded by blowing a raspberry at Stress. The Mad Patch just thumbed his noise up at her.

She sighed. Sending Stress in the direction of their little Celebration must have been a joke on Timber's part. Really, how the heck were these two jokesters supposed to help her?