Wonderland
"Curiouser and curiouser," said the White Rabbit.
Thomas Anderson, currently lying in a bubble bath with a rubber duck on his head, made no sound, as he watched the Rabbit poured itself a cup of milk, before adding in some tea.
"All these years and you're still in Wonderland," said the Rabbit, as it stirred its milk with a fork.
"Most curious," added the Hatter.
One didn't usually go into a bathtub for tea parties, and usually, in the bathtub, one bathed alone. One didn't expect to see talking rodents, and old gizzards wearing equally shoddy hats with a $19.99 price tag.
But then, he was insane. He knew it, his shrink knew it, and if he had any connections in this world, they would know it as well.
"Milk?" asked the Rabbit, offering Thomas a cup.
"No, thank you."
All that remained was to wait for the insanity to pass.
"Tea?" asked the Hatter.
"No."
"Coffee?"
"I-"
"Coffee!" exclaimed the Rabbit, as he took a sip of his milk. "Oh, for coffee." He took out his fork and poked Thomas with it. "You could use some coffee, young man! Coffee could wake you up!"
Thomas remained silent.
"Poor boy," said the Hatter, "he thinks he is awake."
"Or he knows that he isn't awake, but is pretending to be awake."
"Or he's asleep, and is waiting to wake up."
"But if he's waiting to wake up, that would imply that he isn't fully asleep."
The Hatter, staring at the Rabbit, let out a sniff, and looked back at Thomas. Grinning through yellow cracked teeth, his one good eye twinkling.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like something to cure your blues?"
"Already taking too many blues," said the Rabbit.
"Or not enough."
Thomas closed his eyes. He hadn't taken any of his blues in awhile, and now he was living with the consequences. He knew he should keep up with his perscription, but moments like this, lying in this pod…it was as if he as both awake and dreaming. Awake, yet not woke. Here, in this madness, he felt…alive.
Yet he was insane. He knew that, his doctor knew that, and it was why he had a prescription of ontolofloxin. It was why, keeping his eyes shut, he began to count.
"Poor boy," sighed the Hatter. "There aren't any sheep at this party."
"Plenty of sheep outside it," said the Rabbit.
"Billions of them."
One…two…three…
"Some sheep leave the paddock though," the Rabbit mused, as he handed the Hatter a cup of milk. "They're good sheep."
"But if sheep leave the paddock, are they sheep any longer? Or are they still controlled?"
Four…five…six…
"Hmm," mused the Rabbit. "Curiouser, and curiouser."
Seven…eight…nine…
"The sheep still get culled though," the Rabbit said. "Or got culled. Nowadays, the shepherds let the sheep run free outside the paddock."
"But if they're free, are they sheep still?"
Fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…
"Thomas."
Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…
"Thomas," repeated the Rabbit.
He squinted his eyes, willing himself to not let any water escape them. Twenty…twenty-one…twenty-two…
"Wake up, Neo."
He jolted up in the pod. Ducky fell off his head into the murky depths, before bobbing up, ever his faithful companion. Not like the Hatter, currently pouring his milk into his top-hat, adding some coffee for good measure. Not like the Black Cat, sitting on the windowsill, smiling at him. And not like the White Rabbit, who was sitting on the edge of his pod, frowning.
"What did you say?" he whispered.
"I say it's time for teatime," said the Hatter. "Or is it past teatime? Or is it before?"
"Nincompoop," said the Rabbit, taking a mouse out of his ear and whacking the Hatter over the head with it.
"Ow," said the Hatter.
"Ow," said the Mouse.
"Food," whispered the Cat, eyeing the small rodent.
Thomas closed his eyes again, but-
"Wake up!"
…opened them once, to see that the Rabbit holding a big strawberry and cream cake in his hands.
"Wake up Thomas," said the Rabbit. "It's your unbirthday."
"My…what?"
"Your unbirthday, Thomas, your unbirthday" said the Hatter, as the Mouse let out a screech as the Black Cat chased after it. "A very special day."
"Or not special," said the Rabbit. "Or perhaps, special in its unspecialness."
Thomas stared at him. The Rabbit stared back. The Mouse let out a screech as the Black Cat chased after it.
"Every day is your unbirthday," said the Rabbit. "Because, Thomas, you are not yet born."
"Technically, none of the sheep in the paddock are born," said the Hatter. "Only those outside it are."
"But if the sheep leave, do they count as born?"
"Why, a most interesting question," said the Hatter.
Thomas wasn't looking at him. Nor listening. Instead, he was watching the Mouse, letting out a screech, as the Black Cat chased after it.
"Did you see…are you going to stop…?"
"The Cat?" asked the Hatter. "Oh, don't mind him."
"But I…" Thomas blinked, looking away from the cake, as the Mouse let out a screech, as the Black Cat chased after it.
"Here, let me fix it," said the Hatter, clapping his hands. Causing the Cat to let out a screech before coming to stop, and turning tail as the Mouse chased after it instead.
"There. All better?"
Thomas didn't answer. His eyes shifted from the Hatter, to his hat, to the cat, who was now going scat from the mouse, running over the bathmat as-
"Cake, Thomas. Cake," said the Rabbit. It stuck its white, furry paw into it, and pulled out a bright red strawberry. "Eat up. It's delicious."
Thomas, ever so slowly, reached out for the strawberry. Not sure why he was obeying the words of a rabbit which should have been a march hare, which was keeping company of a mad hatter, while the Dormouse devoured the Cat from its tail.
But the strawberry…so juicy…so red…he reached out, and-
"Don't."
…stopped, obeying the words of the Cat. Its head hovering above the pod, giving the Hatter and Rabbit withering looks. Even the Dormouse, who had finished eating, and was now looking somewhat sheepish.
"Don't eat the red fruit."
The Dormouse let out a squeak and jumped atop the windowsill. "Rain!" it exclaimed.
Thomas looked beyond the pod, but saw nothing but a clear sky.
"Green rain coming down, gold rain going up," said the Dormouse, before looking back at Thomas. "Red rain not good. Red rain will take you to black sky, which has no rain."
"Rain?" Thomas whispered.
"Thomas? Fruit time," said the Rabbit. "Nice, juicy, red strawberries.
"Fruit time? But I Thought it was teatime," said the Hatter.
"Tea, fruit, it doesn't matter, when he's running out of time," said the Rabbit.
"I suppose so," said the Hatter, before looking at Thomas.
"But be careful, my boy. Take the red fruit, and your unbirthday will end."
Thomas remained silent.
"On the other hand, if you took a blueberry instead, you could have unbirthdays until your death day."
"But blueberries don't taste like strawberries," protested the Rabbit.
"I…" Thomas blinked. "What…are you…"
"Oh don't listen to them, they're all mad," said the Cat, its head hovering in the pod above Thomas. Grinning, bearing shiny white teeth.
Thomas rubbed his forehead.
"Headache?"
Not sure why he was talking to a decapitated feline, Thomas whispered, "you could say that."
The Cat laughed. "It isn't so bad. A body is a drag, really."
"But in a body, you're free," said the Rabbit.
"Not like this hat," said the Hatter, whose price tag had gone up to $20.21
"Cake?" offered the Rabbit.
"Hmm, don't mind if I do," said the Hatter, cutting himself a slice with a spoon.
"But I mind," protested the Rabbit. "The cake was made for Thomas."
"But he doesn't want the cake."
"And? I still mind."
"Do you mind that he doesn't want the cake, or that he's not eating the cake, or that I'm eating the cake?"
"…yes."
"No?"
"Yes."
"No!"
As the Hatter hit the Rabbit with a spoon, the Cat sighed, looking back at Thomas. "Mad, the lot of them."
Thomas, taking a look at his rubber ducky and finding small solace in its silence, made no answer.
"It's a good thing, really," continued the Cat. "If you ate the cake, you'd anger the Queen. And she'd order that your head be cut off."
"Off with his head!" exclaimed the Dormouse.
"Quite right," said the Cat, smiling at Thomas. "Don't you want to keep your head?"
"I-"
"You're forgetting though," said the Rabbit, as he held the Hatter at bay, "that the Red Queen employs her knaves in this kingdom." He shivered. "The ones who spend their time hunting rabbits."
"Like you?" asked the Hatter, backing off from his spoon assault.
"No, not like me. Rabbits. The ones who hide in holes, and stop the Queen's knaves from entering their big burrow."
Thomas would have asked the Rabbit what he was talking about, but as it was eating a large, juicy-looking strawberry, he suspected that he wouldn't get an answer.
"Run, rabbits, run," the Dormouse giggled. "Knaves are coming with their guns."
"Guns?" asked the Hatter. "What guns?"
"The knaves' guns."
"To remove their heads?"
"No, the Queen removes heads. The knaves just have guns, with which they shoot rabbits."
"But do the rabbits have guns?"
"They do," said the Dormouse, "but the knaves can't be harmed by rabbits' guns."
"Pah!" exclaimed the Rabbit.
"Curiouser and curiouser," said the Hatter. "But tell me, oh mouse of front doors, back doors, and side-doors, do the knaves have fun, while the rabbits run?"
Thomas rubbed his eyes. If someone was having fun in this pod, it wasn't him.
"I don't know," said the Dormouse eventually. "I think the knaves actually fear the rabbits, because the rabbits could lead too many sheep out of Wonderland. And if too many sheep leave Wonderland, the Red Queen could get angry with the knaves."
"But why leave Wonderland?" asked the Cat. "Isn't it nice here?"
"Nice!" exclaimed the Rabbit. "To be hunted by knaves with guns, who have fun shooting at us poor rabbits?"
"If you wouldn't keep offering sheep strawberry cake, maybe they wouldn't have to," said the Hatter.
"But you're not a rabbit, are you?" said the Cat, looking at Thomas. Twisting its head around like a clock. "You don't want to lose your head, do you?"
Thomas, just wanting the madness to stop, and realizing that he needed to take another dose of his blues, didn't say anything.
"See?" asked the Cat, looking back at the other guests. "Thomas wants to stay in Wonderland. He doesn't want to go through nasty little holes, or have sockets poked through his hat. He wants to stay here, where it's nice, and safe, and warm."
The Rabbit looked disappointed. The Hatter didn't look like anything, as he was too busy eating his spoon. The Dormouse was whispering about the rain. Unaware, as they all were, that the pod wasn't feeling very warm right now.
Thomas took a breath. The water was cold, and getting colder. He began to get out of the pod and-
"No," said the Cat.
"Yes," said the Rabbit, hopping along the pod's edge. "Let me help you."
"Stay in the pod, Thomas," whispered the Cat.
"It's raining, it's pouring!" exclaimed the Dormouse, before looking back at Thomas. "Ooh, is he going to stop snoring?"
"Bump his head!" yelled the Cat.
"Cold," whispered Thomas, shivering, as he tried to climb out of the pod. "It's cold…it's cold…"
"Oh dear," said the Hatter, looking at his stop-watch. "I do believe it's struck thirteen."
The Cat hissed at the Rabbit. The Rabbit, ignoring it, took Thomas's arms in its paws. Smiling, as only a rabbit could. How rabbits smiled, Thomas didn't know.
"Time for your birthday," the Rabbit whispered.
"My birthday?" Thomas whispered.
The Cat scoffed. "He means your funeral."
"My what?" Thomas asked. "What are you-"
The Rabbit pushed him down into the pod.
Into the water.
Into its cold, murky depths.
Thomas tried to scream, but no words came out.
He tried to struggle, but he felt so…so…weak…
He closed his eyes, wishing for the nightmare to end.
The Rabbit, letting go of his arms, granted him is wish. Allowing him to rise up through the strawberry-coloured water, and emerge from the pod, blinking. Seeing no Cat, no Rabbit, no Hatter, but plenty of dormice. Scurrying all around him. Around her, in her own pod.
Alice?
It wasn't her name, he knew that. But she was there. Barely visible. As if on the other side of a looking glass.
Wake up.
He tried to reach for her. She was there, in the rabbit hole…dreaming…so close…it was his birthday, and he wanted to share it with her.
Wake up…
Alas, it was not to be, as the Red Queen descended. Clad in black, polished armour. Taking his neck with her steel sceptre, and staring at him through her singular, blood-red eye. Studying him, in a most disapproving manner.
He struggled to breathe…struggled to fight back…struggled to wake up…it was his birthday, and he wanted Alice to have tea with him, and-
"Off with his head!" the Red Queen yelled.
He felt something pulse against the back of his head. Like an electric shock…his head fell, and the Red Queen loosened her grip on him…allowing him to sink back into the pod, away from Alice…he'd woken up early, and it wasn't his birthday yet, but if he was good, there would be plenty of presents for him if he was a good boy.
And if he wasn't, there were always the knaves. For despite having slain the Jabberwock, he, Thomas A. Anderson, was still playing the Queen's game of crochet. Which meant that it was time to go back into his pod and-
…
…
…he burst out of the water, gasping for breath. The water was freezing, and had spilt over the side. Fittingly enough, it was raining outside, thunder bellowing in the sky.
He blinked, looking around his bathroom.
No Rabbit, with his delicious cake.
No Hatter, with his watch.
No Dormouse, to sing about the rain.
No Cat, to keep him safe.
Only Ducky, bobbing in the water beside him. Staring out into the world with blank, artificial eyes. Eyes that met Thomas's, as he lifted Ducky up to his own.
Eyes clearer than his own. Seeing the world…the real world…for what it was.
Guiding him through his madness.
For a moment, Thomas felt his forehead. Trying to forget the Red Queen. To forget Alice. To think nothing of rabbit holes and knaves.
Trying, and failing.
Failing, as he climbed out of his pod.
Failing, as he reached for the cupboard by the mirror.
Failing, until he pulled out a bottle of ontolofloxin, and helping himself to three of the blue-coloured pills, before taking a towel, and wiping his eyes. Looking at the mirror, and letting water and tears meld.
The pills were working, he reflected.
He could see clearly now.
He was awake.
He was alone.