Never were fair, of something so contrary. It was madness. But what was a life worth living without a little... Madness. He watched above, sipping a spot of tea as a woman riding a large mechanical rabbit, tore wild through the streets, not having a lick of restraint.
He watched as people scattered, much like a fallen deck of cards. He hummed with little interest.
What a Merry unbirthday it was shaping up to be. But alas, even tea time had to come to an end. With his lips quirking upward, he put his tea cup away, stood on the edge of a roof, and allowed himself to fall. While falling head first towards the ground, he pulled out a pocket watch to check the time.
"Oh dear. Busted again."
He slipped the clock back into his pocket and twisted in the air. He lightly landed on the tip of the nose of a rather large mechanical rabbit.
"My goodness me, you never showed up for tea," he stated to the woman riding the rabbit. The blond woman gave a wild and unbridled grin.
"Dearest March Hare, how delightful it is for you to join me. But don't you know tea time is dead?"
"The Hatter's fault I do declare."
"Too right you are," she said looking past him onto something unknown, "Though I take your heeded words. It appears as though I am late."
"Yes?"
"For a very important date," she laughed manically, sending her white rabbit charging forward. March Hare casually jumped high into the air, letting the mechanical beast run under him, before safely landing on the balls of his feet to the ground.
"So a knight of the white queen has come to play. Pity he wears the red queen's color," he said absently while walking away casually from the repulser Rays he could hear being fired at his mother's prized plaything. Nothing she couldn't fix, but it was the principle of the matter.
"Hold it!"
He stood rather than walked as four youths, his own age no doubt, appeared before him. A golden glowing caterpillar, a flying Dormouse, Tweedle Dee without his Dum, and a white Cheshire. Why, they reminded him of a riddle he knew. Nonsensical as it were.
"Put your hands up and come quietly," the Cheshire girl demanded. How dull. Wasn't the Dormouse supposed to make demands? Instead, he pulled out his tea cup from earlier along with a thermos and poured a nice cup of tea.
"Put the tea down!" Flying Dormouse demanded. March Hare tutted.
"Now is that anyway to talk? You're the one interrupting tea-"
"Cut the crap," Tweedle Dee demanded in a rather out of place baritone. Weren't the Tweedles higher in pitch? He'd have to ask his mother later.
"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about. What is it that has you so worked up? Surely nothing a cup of tea can't help."
"Perhaps at another date," the caterpillar responded. The March Hare paused. He didn't say no.
How many had called him crazy before? Tried to conform him? It was fine when he was ignored. Had the caterpillar tried to play along?
"You promise?"
The caterpillar spoke before anyone else could.
"As soon as I can. It could be soon if you come with us."
"And go where?"
"To the sky."
"Hm. Very well. I've never had tea in the sky before," he said walking to the teens. He stood by their sides, ignoring the absolute anarchy his mother was causing mere blocks away, "Shall we? The tea is getting cold. And perhaps someone in the sky can finally answer my question. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"
He held his arm out for someone to loop their's through it. None took it as he planned, instead, he was scooped off the ground by the fiesty flying Dormouse.
He giggled as his feet were no longer touching the ground, nor were plummeting to the ground.
This was certainly the best unbirthday he had had in quite a long time.
Lorena Dodson, aka White Rabbit. She was a hoot to write about with her obsession with literature. Also, the epic distancing from the spiderbite to the infamous March Hare for Peter.