"Of course, it does, dear," Leslie said, patting him gently on the arm. Dick looked up at her, a trickle of perspiration running down the side of his face. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurred vision.

She was smiling at him, a tiara balanced precariously on her two-dimensional head. He stared. Leslie's sensible suit had been replaced by a flat, cardboard-like gown with a heart on either corner. He rubbed his eyes harder. Leslie looked like the Queen of Hearts!

"Isn't that so, Alfred?" she asked, addressing Alfred who regally walked up to her, also appearing suddenly two-dimensional. He, too, was wearing cardboard-like attire--The King of Hearts!

"Yes, my dear," he said agreeably, taking her hand. "Of course, it makes perfect sense. Five is always blaming others for his personal shortcomings." Dick gulped and desperately turned to Bruce for help, but he, too, was now a card--the Knave of Hearts.

"It was quite naughty of you, Master Knave, to take the Queen's tart," Alfred said addressing Bruce.

"Enough with the accusations," Bruce returned. "How about a song?" As one, all three burst into song, with Bruce keeping time by banging on the table with his spoon:

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.
There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"

Dick stared open-mouthed. He felt himself going into a tailspin.

"What's happening?" he cried. "What are you doing? Have you all gone nuts?"

"Gone nuts?" asked Alfred. "Is that the same as 'gone for good'?"

"Or 'gone to Hell'?" added Leslie.

"What do you mean by 'gone nuts,' young lady?" Alfred asked.

Dick stared helplessly. "I meant what I said," he finally answered.

"Oh, pooh," Leslie said. "The young lady claims that she means what she says. I suppose she also thinks that she says what she means, hmmmm...?" Leslie asked, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly at Dick.

Dick simply stared at her, not knowing what to say. "I don't see any difference," he finally said. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"Absolutely not!" Alfred cut in. "You might as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see'!"

"It's not?" Dick asked. Then thinking about it, he stated flatly. "No, I guess it's not." A pounding headache began to grow behind his right eye, a dull throbbing pain that was quickly sharpening with every passing moment.

"Are you ready to call Oracle for help?" Bruce asked.

"Yes! That's a smashingly good idea, Master Knave!" Alfred cried. "Let's contact the Lady Oracle!"

"She'll know what to do," Leslie added. "Lady Oracle knows everything!"

"I bet she knows who stole your tarts, dear," Alfred added. "Not to mention the two billion from your secret Swiss bank accounts."

"The two billion what--?" Dick started to ask.

"I say that he did it!" Leslie proclaimed imperiously, pointing at Dick. All eyes turned to him. Dick had trouble concentrating on the confusion going on around him. The pounding in the back of his eye had spread to both temples.

"Does the accused have anything to say in his defense before the jury announces its verdict?" Bruce asked, assuming a cerebral tone.

"Stuff and nonsense!" Leslie cried, waving her small hands in the air. "Sentence first--verdict later! Off with his head!"

"Master Dick, you didn't finish your lunch," Alfred chastised. "And I picked those mushrooms specifically for you. They'll make grow you up, nice and tall, and they go especially well with Orange marmalade."

"Can you blame him?" Bruce retorted. "I wanted Lobster Quadrille, but you won't make it anymore!" Bruce and Leslie immediately broke into song together. Alfred picked up a knife and fork and banged them in time to the rhythm:

"Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare,
You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes."

They all laughed spontaneously. Dick brought his hands up to his ears. He felt the room spinning, their raucous laughter causing his head to pound.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he cried. "You're driving me crazy!"

"Nonsense, Dick," Bruce said. "A person can't 'drive' another person anywhere! Besides the Batmobile has more horsepower! By the way, 'Why is a raven like a writing desk?'" he asked, seemingly out of no where.

Dick shook his head. "I don't know," he said, confused.

Bruce glared at him menacingly, and then grinned broadly in a most un-Bruce like manner. "Neither do I! Are you ready to call Oracle?"

"No," Dick rasped. "I told you before--"

"Stubborn, lad--or should I say, lass?" Alfred interjected. "Of course he doesn't know 'Why a raven is like a writing desk'! He hasn't asked the Lady Oracle! If he did, she'd be able to tell him. After all--" he began.

"Oracle knows EVERYTHING!" Alfred and Bruce finished together. Elbowing each other for their cleverness, they slapped one another's hand in a high five.

"Master Dick, are you quite ready yet to call the Lady Oracle?" Alfred asked. Dick looked at him as if he'd never seen him before, too dazed to make sense of his words.

Bruce, Alfred, and Leslie stood up, and holding hands they formed a circle and began to dance around the kitchen table. Dick was still seated and felt trapped as they danced around him, his head spinning to their nonsense:

"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!
But the snail replied 'Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance--
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance!"

"This is all a horrible dream," Dick said desperately, closing his eyes to the chaos around him. "A horrible dream--! I've got to wake up...wake up--!" He collapsed on the floor, rolling over on his back, the world whirling in a mad kaleidoscope around him.

"Are you ready to call Oracle?" Bruce asked, his face moving in a steady circle above Dick.

"Yes, Master Dick, you must call Oracle," Alfred pressed, his face next to Bruce.

"Dick, sweetheart, you should know by now that only Oracle can help you," Leslie added.

Bruce knelt down next to Dick, but appeared distorted as if from the wrong end of a telescope. Dick closed his eyes, desperately trying to push away from his mentor.

"You don't want to stay in your current condition forever, do you?" Bruce asked, his hot breath next to Dick's face. "I adopted a boy, Dick! I have a son! I do not have a daughter! Do you hear me! I want my son back! Now, call Oracle this minute or we'll have to carry out the sentence!"

"Sentence?" Dick asked anxiously. Had there been a verdict?

"Call Oracle!" they cried, chanting together, their voices increasing in volume, drowning out Dick's ability to think. "Call Oracle! CallOracle! CallOracle!
CallOracle!CallOracle!OracleOracleOracleOracleOracleOracle...!"

Dick felt the world spinning out of control. He lay helplessly shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands covering his face. In the background he heard Alfred and Bruce singing in off-key, two-part harmony:

"Twinkle, twinkle little bat,
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea-tray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle--"

"No, I can't call her...can't...won't...I won't...I won't! I WON'T! I-WON'T-CALL-ORACLE-AND-YOU-CAN'T-MAKE-ME!"

He sat up, his eyes snapping open. The words were torn raggedly from his throat and now rang loudly in his ears.