Alice & Dorothy Read Online Free PDF

know what you mean.”
     
    “What I mean, little strumpet ,” The Hater said, leaning over the table toward her. His face had suddenly taken a vile, predatory slant to it. Alice’s stomach rolled just looking at him. “I daresay you have no concept of time either as a thing or a person . You have never even spoken to him. I know this for a fact. He and I were grand friends,”
     
    “You were lovers,” said the Dormouse. “He ripped your sweet ass open like a hot knife through clotted cream.”
     
    The Mad Hater looked down at his companion, his face dark. “More tea?” he said quietly.
     
    “Do it,” the Dormouse said, “And I’ll serve this whore your balls and your eyes with her next cup.” He rolled his lazy eye back toward Alice. “She’ll eat them, too. Every last bite.”
     
    “Jesus Christ,” Alice said.
     
    “ You’ve never even spoken to Jesus Christ …” The March Hare began. He caught a look from the Hater and the Dormouse and immediately shut his mouth. Looked down at his teacup and fingered the handle.
     
    “If you knew Time the way I did,” The Hater said, resuming his discussion, “that is to say, as I once did, on friendly terms , why, the man would do anything you liked with but a whisper and a nod. For example, let’s say you are being frigged in the exit by some fat guy, why you could ask Time to change the hours to days and stop time at a motel, skin hot from the shower, her lips…”
     
    “There you go,” said the Dormouse. “Off with your fantasies again.”
     
    “I wish you hadn’t interrupted,” The March Hare said, in a whisper, shifting in his chair.
     
    “I was merely stating that Time would happily stop it for you at any point you wished. Stop it even; hold it there forever if you wanted.”
     
    “Is that how you guys get on?” said Alice. “Stuck on a moment? I guess my watch would be useless if I could pull that off.”
     
    “Not me,” said the Dormouse. “These two are assholes are cuh -razy .”
     
    “Look,” said the Hater, swatting away the Dormouse’s comments. “I’ll tell you. Last March was a bad year for us. We were sentenced to death by the Queen. It was my big day , I was singing for her High and Mightiness , tra la lah, singsong voice, very lovely, very, very pretty, I have a singing voice like my mother, when I wish it, you know?”
     
    “Very lovely,” said the March Hare.
     
    “Like her big fat tits,” mumbled the Dormouse.
     
    The Mad Hater broke into braying, hysterical laughter. The March Hare pulled his hands off the table, watching his companion closely. There was a worried look on his face. The Dormouse snuggled his nose into the crook of his own arm.
     
    Alice pulled back from the table. She’d been around unpredictable men before; her father had been prone to bouts of random fury much like this. The Hater actually seemed a lot like her father, when she thought about it. They even kind of looked the same, with their severe British faces and large teeth.
     
    “Excuse me,” said the Hater pleasantly. “As I was saying, I had merely gotten past a single verse when the Bitch Whore Queen began screaming—‘He’s murdering time! Off with his head! Chop off their cocks!’ –and the like. Terrible things come from her mouth when she sets her mind to it.”
     
    “Much like this one, I imagine,” the Dormouse said.
     
    Alice said nothing. She was watching The Hater intently. He palmed a silver bread and butter knife, slid it up the cuff of his shirt. Looked up at Alice and smiled. Teapots reflected off their sheen.
     
    “Ever since that day,” he said quietly. “Time has forgotten us. It’s been 6 o’clock since that day in March. Tea time.”
     
    The March Hare sighed, picked up his teacup and swished the contents sourly.
     
    “I could use a beer, frankly,” he said. “Always tea though. Always tea time .”
     
    “So,” Alice said, looking at the teapots around the table. Sets of three, every