Notice: Hello, my fine friends and readers! A few things before the fun starts: one, and as you may have guessed, there will be several songs and/or references to songs in this story, most of them from musicals. In the last chapter, it was Alone in the Universe from Seussical. I don't own it. (Wish I did.) Today's tune is written by me, but set to Jack's Obsession from Nightmare Before Christmas. (Again, don't own it, but wish I did.) Two, for those who are wondering what Chess is planning, I dedicate this. It's a bit more lighthearted than the last two chapters, so that you know. And now that that's settled, allow me to present unto you wonderful people…
Chapter III: To Be Lonely
"Foolish…dumb…slurvish…idiotic…"
Chessur the Cheshire Cat had been saying this over and over again for over four hours nonstop. He was pacing about his house. He wished he'd made it bigger…he was finished with the first trip before he'd finished the second word. Too short a time for him to chastise himself properly, he thought.
He'd tried everything to forget. He'd banged his head against the wall until he thought his skull would crack. He'd read through twenty three-inch thick books with words he couldn't understand in them, TWICE. He'd clawed at trees and punched his door until his claws and knuckles were skinned and bleeding…and still she was there, in his mind. Still she was there…
How could he have been such a fool? Such a dolt? Such an idiot? He didn't regret killing, plucking, breaking and devouring the little blue bird…far from it, actually. He was a cat. Scones, tarts, tea and milk were all very nice, but he needed meat – BLEEDING meat – to survive. It was a curse he was usually proud of, as the little ones doomed to become his meals tragically found out.
Note the word "usually."
No, the bird didn't matter to him at all. Indeed, he had almost forgotten about it. But she had to see. And he would lose his temper at the wrong time! He'd never get it; why was his anger so controllable at the wrong times, and at the same time so rampant in the wrong kind of situation to explode?
The worst part was that he knew what he had been thinking, and that brought him the most fury and the most guilt. His mind, intoxicated by the scent of avian blood, had been set on a single channel at the time: kill, chew, swallow. This was never something that brought him grief…until now.
Why HER? Why, oh, why did it have to be HER he'd wanted to kill? Had wanted to chew? Had wanted to swallow?
And, while he was at it, when had he asked so many questions of himself before?
He sighed. He seemed to be thinking to himself more and more often lately. He felt he might just go mad and end it.
Why did that thought spark a sort of guilty pleasure?
Because he deserved it. He deserved to lose his mind. He deserved to be lonely. And he deserved it because he had hurt HER. Mind! He had hurt many, many others like her, and in more ways than one, but he never even gave them a second thought. He had hurt HER, his sweet, dear dormousey. That was all that mattered.
Hold on…since when did his life center around a dormouse?
Good lord…maybe he already WAS mad!
He might as well have been, he figured. It was better than being nothing.
You are nothing!
Her words repeated themselves over and over again in his head like a vile mantra. She'd never forgive him. Not now. She'd said so. She HATED him. And, worst of all…he FRIGHTENED her. The thought was almost laughable; when he'd first met her, she knew of his carnivorous and sadistic nature, but it wasn't until she saw him work his talents upon another creature that she'd been afraid of him. Laughable and sad, all at once.
He sighed once more. It was over. Their conversations, the parties, and worst of all, the feeling of the dormouse against the large, warm belly he once wanted to put her in (the morbid idea never left his mind, though it no longer gave him pleasure)…over. The "game" he'd been playing was over. That was what he'd always considered it…a game. The biggest game he'd ever play. And now he'd never even get to finish it.
She'd never want him now…now that he gave the matter thought, maybe she never HAD. He'd left her for dead once. And now he'd tried to rip her to pieces. Besides, she had Tarrant. And Thackery, too. And then the countless (and rather succulent looking) dormice and other rodents that worked in the White Palace as maids and even a few low-ranking military dormice (guards and such that would be no match for him, if he really were to try anything)…how could such a beautiful and delicate, and yet equally tough and even somewhat intimidating creature as Mallymkun ever love him? The fact was plain as the nose on his whiskered face: he was a cat. She was a rodent. They were lucky to be friends…now, they weren't even THAT anymore…
The last thought caused him to growl softly.
"Her wicked words are buzzing around my skull," he muttered. "Will they let me be? I cannot tell. There's something about her I just can't grasp…and, just when I thought I had it then, alas! Through my furry fingers she has slipped, like snow inside the Jabberwocky's grip! Something there I can't quite get! I try to, but I can't forget! Will she ever learn of my love at last? I had her one moment, and she was gone in a flash! I must win her back! I must win her back!"
Chess stopped abruptly.
"Oh, great," he hissed, putting his face in his paw. "NOW I'm speaking in rhyme!"
He had to get out. He needed some fresh air…
Songbirds chirped and twittered. The sun shone brightly, and not a cloud could be seen in the pale blue sky of the Tulgey Woods. Had he not been so deep in thought and depressed, Chessur probably would have commented on the how beautiful the day was. He floated up into a tree and watched some bread-and-butterflies twirl and flitter about among the leaves. He took a deep breath, and decided that, as long as he'd started a song or a poem, he might as well finish it with the rest of his thoughts…
"Fishes, birds, dormice, and rats…their minds are nutshells for me to crack! The games I play disgust her so! Confound it all! I love them though!"
A rustle in the bushes caught his attention. He evaporated, remaining in the tree but invisible. Out scampered a small, rather scholarly looking dormouse in a green vest – clearly not Mallymkun, and, as he surmised from its (rather poor) choice of clothes, male in gender. Chess was surprised; surely a rodent, of all creatures, would know better than to come near his domain!
He was right. The rodent must have had an appointment or date of some sort and taken a wrong turn; it gulped, turned, and tried to tip-toe away from his lair.
Even depressed, Chess wasn't going to let THAT happen any time soon.
Well, he thought in a hopeless manner. Might as well have a snack. Can't make things any worse…
Chess jumped down, reappearing mid-leap, and landed with one paw on the dormouse. The poor little creature struggled and begged, clawing at the ground with its paws, its little green vest getting covered in dirt and crushed grass.
Chess paid no heed. He picked it up and lay on his back, flipping the pitiful thing between his paws idly as he sang softly to himself.
"Toys to me," he murmered. "Nothing more! But sweet Mally's got something more…something I have rarely seen! Something I feel when she's with me! I must win her back!…Can I win her back?"
Briefly, he stopped his toying, the little one trying to catch its breath for another long line of useless pleas.
"Can I win her back?" her murmered, almost forgetting about the tiny luncheon in his paws until he heard it let out a squeak that might have been a breathless call for help. He was so bored and upset, he didn't even care to notice. For once, playing with the creature gave him no joy.
"Might as well eat you now…" he said, not caring a penny if the dormouse heard him or not. (It seemed to, for its struggles increased, though he hardly noticed them.) His mind buzzed like a horde of angry wasps. A low snarl escaped his throat.
"I've thought of how I'll make it up for quite some time! Can trusting my instincts really be called a crime? I've memorized entire speeches, all by heart…and each one makes me want to tear myself apart! No matter what I plan out, something is wrong…so hard to get my cursed claws upon…"
Chessur curled the tail of the dormouse around one of his claws and dangled it upside down in the air. It whimpered, but he really didn't hear. It was quite unamusing for a toy…
He was just about to drop it onto his tongue and grant it a quick demise between his teeth, but stopped abruptly. Something about the color of the fur…it gave him…IDEAS…
Ashen gray…like his…
The Cheshire Cat's grin widened to a nearly impossible length. His eyes glittered. The rodent gulped. NOW what was going to happen…?
"Or…perhaps," murmered Chess, and his voice became frenzied and excited at the idea as it bloomed in his head. "Perhaps the wound is not as deep as I've led myself to think! Have I been thinking much too hard?"
The solution struck him like a lightning bolt, and he dropped the dormouse. It promptly fainted.
"Of course! I've been too upset to see! The answer's right in front of me! RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!"
Chess was bubbling with excitement as he ran back into his house. Out of his cupboard he grabbed a sketchpad, a pen, and some oil pastels. He was no artist; he was more of a quick sketcher than an intricate designer or detailer. Still, when the muse struck, he liked to make things.
This, he decided, would be different. This would be a masterpiece.
"It's simple, really! Very clear, like music drifting in the air, invisible but everywhere!"
He sat at his table and began to work, drawing quickly as his excitement grew, but taking great care to avoid any errors in his effort. He chuckled softly…
"Just because she CANNOT see me…doesn't mean she WILL NOT see me! You know, the salmon I've eaten sing that love's not as tricky as it seems! And why should they have all the fun? Love should belong to anyone! NOT ANYONE IN FACT, BUT ME! Why, I made Mally laugh and sing! And there's no reason I can find that this plan won't work to do so again in time! I BET IT WILL IMPROVE US, TOO! SAY! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I'LL DO!"
Chessur laughed as he sat back to look over his work: Mallymkun, in a wedding dress, holding a smoky gray dormouse in a blue suit by the hand.
On its face was a wide, toothy grin.
The game WASN'T over…it hadn't even begun!