by K.L. Coones:
The tea was made and the places set; so the Hatter waited, but six o’clock had not arrived. The March Hare wasn’t paying attention as he desperately discussed various ideas on how to make the Dormouse’s chair smaller even though the Dormouse was fast asleep.
“Hare!” shouted the Hatter. The rabbit looked up momentarily from under the table. “What have you done with six o’clock?”
“What are you blathering about?” asked the Hare, as it ducked back under the table.
“It’s time for tea and six o’clock is not here!” The rabbit poked his head up over the edge of the table again and eyed the Hatter critically.
“You’ve gone more daft than usually, Hatter,” observed the March Hare. “It can’t be tea time if it’s not yet six o’clock.” The Hatter slammed his hat on the tabled, followed closely by the second fist that landed on top of the hat, crushing it onto itself. The hare disappeared back under the table.
“It is tea time, look at me watch!” bellowed the Hatter. “It’s been five and fifty nine for too long, six o’clock should be here.” Then a suspicious gleam appeared in the Hatter’s eye at that moment.
“That is, unless you murdered six o’clock, Hare,” the hatter finished in a sinister voice. The March Hare’s head popped back up immediately, fear evident in his huge black eyes. “I’ll tell the Queen, Hare, and then you know what will happen?” The Hatter made a quick slicing motion across his own throat with his index finger.
“It’s not true, Hatter! You’re mad! Of course that goes without saying,” replied the March Hare. “I’m sure six o’clock is around here somewhere! I’ll help you look, just…just don’t tell the Queen! Or ask him, he’s got a watch too!” The March Hare jabbed his furry finger at the white form of another rabbit as he exited the underbrush.
“Hey, you! White Rabbit!” shouted the Hatter.
“I can’t talk, I’m late…ouch! Let go of my ear!” cried the White Rabbit. The Hatter snatched the golden pocket watch away.
“What time is your appointment?” inquired the Hatter as he flipped the White Rabbit’s pocket watch over in his hand, then began to dangle it in front of the poor creature.
“It’s at six o’clock!” replied the White Rabbit. “And I am going to be late because of you!” The White Rabbit made a failed grab for its stolen property.
“You can’t be late, because six o’clock is gone!” shouted the Hatter as he jabbed a pudgy finger at the watch’s face. “Look at your second hand!” All three leaned in close to see the second hand of the White Rabbits golden watch bouncing back and forth between five fifty nine and six. Together the Mad Hatter and the March Hare turned their gaze onto the White Rabbit.
“I don’t know what has happened to six o’clock,” he cried with wide, fear stricken eyes. “Maybe it fell down that hole on the way here!”
“What hole?” asked the Hatter as they all followed the line of the White Rabbits pointing paw. On the ground at the edge of the treeline was a hole made of nothing, and it was getting bigger. The March Hare loped over to the edge of the hole and peered over the edge.
“What a curious type of hole this is, you really think six o’clock is down there?”
“It’s got to be, look at me watch now!” cried the Hatter as he thrust his watch into the March Hare’s face. The six on his pocket watch was gone as well, with a strange hole in the face. The Hatter slid his watch back into his pocket, puffed out his chest and took several deliberate steps toward the hole.
“Hatter! Are you mad? Of course, that goes without saying,” cried the Hare. “You can’t go down there, that hole doesn’t even have a bottom, you’ll be killed!”
“Killed? What do you think the Queen will do to us when she finds out we have lost six o’clock?” countered the Hatter. “She almost cut my head off last time she accused me of murdering time. Besides, we must have tea! It’s the most important meal of the day you know!”
“But, you can’t just jump in” retorted the White Rabbit. “You need a parachute or something.” The Hatter put his hand to his chin and surveyed the area.
“You’re right rabbit, and I see just the thing!” The Hatter marched over to the table, seizing two handfuls of the edge of the tablecloth. He gave it a quick jerk and whisked the cloth out from under the cups, pot, and Dormouse.
“Alright, here I go!” declared the Hatter, wrapping the corners of the table cloth around his hands. He tossed the cloth in the air, causing it to billow out, then jumped into the hole.
“Dear, dear, he’ll just go mad if he can’t find six o’clock, of course that goes without saying.”
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