Alice & Dorothy Read Online Free PDF Page A

to use the butter knife, you cock smoking faggot .”
     
    The March Hare took the watch from him and shook it himself. He put it up against his ear and listened.
     
    “Let me see it,” Alice said.
     
    Nobody looked at her. Nobody acknowledged that she had spoken. She was forgotten for now.
     
    The March Hare dipped the watch in his tea and shook it out. He looked at the watch again and sighed. “It was the best butter, you know,” he said again.
     
    “Let me see it,” Alice said again. This time the March Hare shrugged and tossed the watch to her. Alice caught it in both hands and flipped it over. It was as big as a large glazed doughnut, perfectly etched in gold and silver. On the back was a design made out of hundreds of tiny gems. There were diamonds and sapphires and rubies. It looked like a blue car sitting in a parking lot. At the bottom of the picture two stones were missing, and their empty sockets stared back up at her. “What is it? It’s beautiful.”
     
    The Mad Hater shrugged. He was cleaning his teeth with a silk glove. The sound reminded Alice of the sounds bedsprings made when you fucked on an old bed. He gave the air of someone very bored with the conversation. The Dormouse was sound asleep but The March Hare was watching her intently.
     
    Alice flipped the watch over. Instead of hands and a face, the watch face was barren of any features. It was polished, mirror-smooth gold. In the middle of the empty face, it looked as though someone had taken a sharp knife and gouged the number “2” in a childlike scrawl. She looked up at the Mad Hater, confused.
     
    “This is your watch?” she said. “It doesn’t even tell the time. Pretty useless, don’t you think?”
     
    “Why should it?” The Mad Hater said. He cupped his hands, motioning for Alice to toss it back. When she did, he fondled it like a lost child. “Does your watch tell you what year it is?”
     
    “No, what would be the point of that?” Alice said.
     
    “Exactly,” The Mad Hater said. “That’s just the case with my watch.”
     
    “Uhh, what?” Alice said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
     
    The Mad Hater sighed. “The Dormouse is asleep again,” he said. He took his cup of steaming hot tea and splashed the entire cup onto the top of the sleeping creature’s head.
     
    “ Fuck! ” Dormouse screeched. It was an inhuman sound, like three or four voices screaming in pain at once. His head snapped up, and he snarled at the Mad Hater. His jagged teeth slashed into his gums and his snarl widened into a roar. Blood and saliva dripped freely from the wounds onto the tablecloth. Where the creature’s fluids touched the silk lace, it turned black and thick bug hair sprouted forth like mold.
     
    The Mad Hater looked back at him, unimpressed. The two held each other’s gaze for a few moments. Something silent passing between them. Alice smelled violence in the air. It was thick, like summer gnats. Finally the Dormouse turned his head away from The Mad Hater and turned his eyes on Alice.
     
    “I was just going to say that,” he said to her. His voice had been restored to civility.
     
    “Did you guess the Riddle yet?” The Hater said, smiling. All hints of violence were gone from his face.
     
    Alice shook her head. “Why is a Raven like a writing desk? No clue. What’s the answer?”
     
    “Haven’t the foggiest,” replied The March Hare.
     
    “Me either,” said the Hater. The Dormouse mumbled in agreement. Alice noticed that in spite of the horrible red patch on the top of his head from the burning tea, he was on his way back to sleep already.
     
    “Neither of you know? What a waste of fuckin’ time,” Alice said. “Why would you sit here telling riddles that have no answers? Actually, never mind. It’s not that surprising, really.”
     
    “If you knew Time the way I did,” said the Hater, “You wouldn’t talk about wasting it . It’s Him .”
     
    “What?” asked Alice. “I don’t