Malice in Wonderland Bundle 3 Page 15

  “Little girls?” the Knight offers in a teasing voice.

  “That’s right!” Malice shouts. “We’ll make a mockery of your little obstacle course. To us, it shall be like— like...”

  “Mincemeat?” Hatter offers.

  “No, that’s silly,” Malice says. “No, we shall make childsplay of it.”

  “I don’t think—” Humpty says.

  The Cat laughs, says, “You’re going to make childsplay of the anti-little-girl challenges in order to prove you’re not a little girl?”

  Hatter chuckles. “Irony!”

  “Ugh!” Malice says. “Don’t remind me of that wretched Storyteller.”

  Humpty says, “Yes, don’t antagonize her. If we’re going to do this, perhaps it’d be best if we just get on with it.”

  “Yes, let’s!” Malice says. “We need to get this out of the way, because there’s so many other chores that need to get done before we go on our quest for the Jabberwock.”

  The Knight says, “You know, the jabberwocks also have a longstanding dislike of little girls. It’s a part of their culture.”

  “I’m aware,” Malice says.

  “Too bad the chap isn’t here with you,” the Knight says. “He’d be able to relate to me, in a way. He could perhaps teach me some new songs...”

  “Actually, the Jabberwock is quite tolerant of little girls. But you’re holding us up. Let’s go!” She starts tromping forward. “What’s first? Bring it on!”

  Froud hastens to scamper along beside her, as the others follow behind. The Knight, hearing her footsteps, peeks through his fingers. He shrieks and runs off, further inside the cave.

  “First, is the dress,” Froud says.

  “The dress?”

  From farther down the tunnel, the Knight shouts, “The Gown of Extraordinary Anti-frilliness. Come along. It’s just around the corner.”

  They round the corner. Now Malice stares at the small circular area surrounded by black curtains hanging from a circular pole.

  “It’s behind those curtains,” Froud explains. “He designed it to be the most anti-frilly, unfeminine dress anyone could ever imagine.”

  Malice scrunches up her face in mock contempt. “You mean, like a kilt.”

  “No, a kilt’s a skirt, not a dress,” Froud says defensively. Now he seems a bit flustered. “I mean to say, they’re in two different categories of clothing entirely. Completely unrelated.”

  “Quite,” Malice says mockingly. “So at least there won’t be any plaid, I hope.”

  “Plaid is atrocious,” the Cat remarks.

  “I don’t find it so unpleasant,” Humpty says.

  Froud says, “Anyhow, the gown shall be your first test, because—”

  The Knight interrupts him by shouting, “If she can wear it without squealing!”

  “What’s that?” Froud says, turning his head to look at him, but the Knight is hidden in the darkness of the tunnel beyond.

  Hatter says, “What if my hat was plaid?”

  The Knight shouts, “If she can wear it without squealing...tell her!”

  “She’d squeal if she wore plaid?” Hatter says, looking confused.

  “Shhh,” Malice tells him. “We’re no longer talking about plaid,” to which Hatter says, “Oh.”

  “Oh yes,” Froud says. “The Knight has spoken a great deal of the anti-frilliness dress, on and on he has gone. He is so proud of his fashion designer abilities. He sewed and adorned the dress himself, and he has said that if you can put the dress on without squealing like a little girl, it will be a good sign that you have grown.”

  “But I already have a dress,” Malice says, while slightly lifting it. “My dress of moderate poofiness.”

  Froud says, “There is a rack you can hang it upon behind the curtains, and you can retrieve it after the challenges.”

  “A show of faith!” the Knight shouts out, and Malice shoots him an irritated glare, though she can’t see him.

  She shouts, “I’m the Queen and you’re the Knight! If anything, you should be showing me some faith!”

  “You tell him,” encourages the Cat.

  After a brief hesitation, the Knight calls out, “Please, Your Most Royal Highness. I would be ever-so-grateful of your going along with my admittedly off-putting imposition. You are most glorious and benevolent!”

  “Oh now you’re just sucking up!” she shouts. “And I like it! Very well. I will go along with all of this, for now. But you shall owe me a great deal for all this nonsense, of that you can be sure. Now, enough dilly-dallying, let’s see this dress of yours...”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MALICE PARTS THE BLACK curtain and gasps when she sees what is within.

  Her eyes widen as she gazes at the dress in front of her. It was fashioned from ugly, rough material and fits the clothes-mannequin like a loose, formless sack with some sloppy short sleeves attached. The fabric has been dyed a rich blue, but the color looks murky and uneven. Small images of ornamental swords have been crudely drawn on the dress in a repeating pattern. Instead of lace, the sleeves are edged with sandpaper lined with little metal spikes. Malice hopes they aren’t sharp, because she doesn’t want to poke herself while putting the confounded dress on.

  The voice of the Knight calls out, “Yes, it’s true! I fashioned it from a burlap sack! Much like the ones the horrible little girls might have kept the baby jabberwocks in when they kidnapped them. Did the Jabberwock ever tell you that part of their history?”

  “No!” Malice calls out. “He doesn’t speak very much about it.”

  “A pity that—” the Knight says.

  Malice cuts him off. “Hold on. I must put on this wretched-looking garment.”

  As she undresses, she wonders, Why blue? Is it because blue is supposedly the color of boys, whereas pink is for girls? After hanging her black dress up, she stares at the burlap dress for a moment.

  Such a masculine shade of blue. But girls can wear blue too.

  She stares more, not wanting to actually put the thing on.

  It’s atrocious.

  Hatter’s voice shouts out, “You okay in there, sweetie?”

  “Oh yeah! Just about to put this bad boy on! And the pun is completely intended...for this is the most masculine dress I’ve ever seen! It’s the sort of ultra-masculine dress a teenaged boy would make to impress other boys.”

  “A kilt?” the Cat shouts.

  “Not a kilt!” the Knight shouts, sounding offended.

  Malice is holding the dress in her hands now. “Are the spikes sharp?”

  The Knight answers, “No! You can feel for yourself. I don’t want to hurt you, just repel any little-girlness you harbor inside.”

  “Yes, yes, so you’ve said. Please wait while I put it on.”

  The Knight says, “Good luck!... I wish the Jabberwock were here. I’ve learned how to sing a number of little-girls-goodbyes and he could sing along with me.”

  Malice doesn’t reply. Instead she grunts as she struggles to put on the anti-frilly dress.

  It’s currently covering her head. She hears the muffled voice of the Cat saying, “Why don’t you sing anyway? We would so much like to hear.”

  “Stupid instigator,” Malice mutters to herself. She pulls the dress over her head.

  Just in time to hear the Knight’s off-key voice, singing the words:

  “Hush little jabberwock,

  Don’t you cry.

  Mama’s gonna sing you

  A little-girls-goodbye.”

  The Cat says, “Well that one was bland, but it’s a good start.”

  She hears Hatter say, “I don’t think you should be singing those. It could upset her.”

  “Yes,” Humpty says, “don’t let her hear.”

  “Too late! I already did!” She’s not sure if she wants to ask him to stop singing, because even though the little-girls-goodbyes are about killing girls, she’s only heard a few of them, and she’s curious.

  She whips the b
lack curtain aside. All the guys’ eyes shift onto her and make wrinkly faces of disgust, except for Froud. The Knight is not in sight, since he’s still hiding in the darkness farther down the cave tunnel.

  Malice lifts her hands in the air. “Tada!” And she gives a little twirl. “Isn’t it marvelous in its hideousness?”

  “It’s astoundingly ugly,” Humpty says, and now his mouth is hanging open as he gazes at her backside. “Wait, what’s that?”

  “I must avert my gaze!” Hatter says. He covers his eyes and turns his head.

  Froud says, “That was my reaction when I first saw it, too.”

  The Knight shouts, “No doubt you gentlemen have noticed how utterly blue it is. I personally dyed the fabric. The dress is so overwhelmingly masculine that it would take a strong woman to bear wearing it. And surely, no mere little girl would be able to do so.”

  “A good thing I’m not one, then,” Malice says.

  “Interesting!” the Knight calls.

  Malice expects the Knight to say more, but he doesn’t, so when she looks to Froud questioningly, Froud shrugs and says, “The Knight holds many rather unrealistically stereotypical notions of the sexes. I daresay, he’s delusional...as you’re sure to see in the next challenges...”

  “What’s that ring for?” Humpty says while pointing at Malice’s rear end.

  “Decorum!” Hatter chastises.

  “What are you on about?” Malice says.

  Humpty says, “There’s a metal O-ring on the back of the dress.”

  “There is?” Malice says, while twisting to look, but she is unable to see.

  “Indeed there is,” Hatter says.

  “Oh? What’s it for?” Malice says to Froud.

  He answers, “For tying or latching things onto it, of course.”

  “Such as?” Malice says.

  Froud shrugs. “We shall have to see.”

  Malice groans.

  Froud perks up. “Ah, yes! You have passed the first test. But there are still quite a few more to go. Let us proceed...” He begins walking, beckoning the others to follow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  AS THEY WALK FARTHER down the dank, dark cave, the singing voice of the Knight echoes against the cave walls:

  “Grrr awoo, awooga, grrr awoo skree iye!

  Tear her limbs asunder!

  That’s a jabberwock lullaby!”

  “There,” he says. “You wished to hear another.”

  “Irish lullaby,” Humpty mutters.

  Malice nods at him. “And I daresay the jabberwocks seem a bit obsessed with killing little girls.”

  The Knight calls back, “Not surprising, given what I know of their past experiences. And yes, it does sound like the Irish lullaby. You’ll find that many jabberwock songs are that way.”

  They come upon curtains blocking the view of farther down the cave. Since they’re black, Malice hadn’t realized they were there before. Froud pulls on some rope, and the curtains part. “Behold!” he says, with a flourish of his hand. “You are presented with a choice.”

  Ahead of them, they see that the cave splits into two different tunnels.

  A wooden sign is affixed to the wall of stone in front of them.

  Malice reads the first line: What are little girls made of? but doesn’t read further.

  Instead she inspects the path to the left.

  A pool of mud blocks the way, reaching from one side of the cave to the other—about six feet across.

  On the other side of the mud pool is a raised wooden drawbridge—taut ropes seem to be holding it in an upright position. The ropes extend farther back into the tunnel, over the top of a solid iron gate, in front of which sit two large objects—a giant slug, and a snail, that appear to be crudely made of papier mache and sloppily painted. A large cloth hangs from the cave ceiling between the mud moat and the gate—it appears to be weighed down by some sort of material within—sand or water, perhaps. On the ground, below the cloth rests a vase with designs painted on it—she squints to try to make them out—they look like red flame designs.

  Hatter begins humming the tune but he badly mangles a few notes, as Malice looks down the path on the right, where she sees a moat of water blocking the tunnel. There is another wooden drawbridge with ropes holding it upright, with the ropes leading to another gate farther along. That gate is solid wood, and painted bright pink. The water moat looks more pleasant than the mud, and in fact, the whole right path looks pleasanter...and more feminine, and seems designed to be the opposite of the left tunnel. Instead of the snails and slugs, in front of the pink gate, there is a table covered in a pink frilly table cloth atop of which is a huge pile of various pink pastries and cakes and cookies.

  “All that pink is searing my eyes,” she mutters. She looks to see if there is a vase on the pink side, and there she sees it resting on the ground—it’s the same shape, but covered in sparkling glitter. She looks up at the ceiling—there is no tarp there.

  As Hatter sings, “What are little girls made of?... Sugar...and umm—” He hums some before grunting. “Oh, how does it go?”

  “It’s on the sign,” Malice says.

  Now Humpty helps Hatter, singing the tune correctly: “What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and everything nice. That’s how the tune goes.” And he snaps his fingers.

  “Ah, that’s right!” Hatter says.

  Further down the sign are the lyrics for the little boys version, and she reads along as Hatter and the Cat sing the words on the sign:

  “What are little boys made of?

  Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails!

  That’s what little boys are made of!”

  Malice waves her hands frantically in the air. “Oi! Wait! Snips! Snips and snails! That’s how we always sang it, right?”

  The Cat says, “Yes, but the doggy tails bit is right. I mean to say, they’d never get a cat’s tail.”

  “An alternate version,” says Froud.

  “I remember it as ‘snips’,” Hatter says.

  Froud says, “And the jabberwocks have an even more alternative version.”

  Humpty says, “I remember it as ‘snips’ as well. But frankly, what is a ‘snip’ anyway?”

  Hatter says, “A ‘snip’ is like a snap, but with quite a bit more of ‘I’ in it...” He points at his own chest.

  Humpty looks at him. “What?”

  The Cat shakes his floating head at Hatter, and says, “What are you on about?”

  Hatter shrugs. “Just that snips are more personal than snaps. Because of the more ‘I’.”

  Froud looks at him and says, “Ah, yes, you’re definitely the mad one. Well, my good boy, the truth is that the word, ‘snips’ refers to little bits of odds and ends, such as what little boys might collect. But since many don’t even understand the word, and ‘snips’ might not have even been in the original version anyhow, the Knight chose to go with ‘slugs’—and also, it made it easier to create his challenge.”

  Humpty says, “You’re speaking on his behalf,” and he looks to and fro as if searching.

  The Cat says, “Yes, where is the Knight, with all his shouting?”

  Froud says, “He has retreated farther into the cave, where he awaits the Queen’s decision.”

  Malice grunts. “So my choice is to go through mud and slugs, or go through clear water and pink pastries? I daresay, even the most masculine boy, if pressed, would choose the more frilly, pinkish alternative!” She whirls, grimacing in mock-ferociousness while poking her finger in Hatter’s chest. “Wouldn’t you?” poke. “Wouldn’t you?!”

  Hatter stammers. “I— I—er—I daresay, I probably would... If no one was watching.”

  Malice whirls on Humpty, points at him and squinches her eyes. “And you would go pink, wouldn’t you?”

  Humpty cringes back and fidgets. “Well, I must admit that I much prefer cake to slugs.”

  “Aha!” She’s about to make her point, but the Cat interrupts her.

&
nbsp; “I would certainly go through the water. My fur is too pretty to be covered by mud!”

  Malice says, “Well that’s good to know, but I didn’t ask. And if your fur’s so pretty, why do you ever only show your head?”

  Hatter says, “Yeah, the Queen of Hearts is locked up—she can’t try to behead you anymore.”

  “Nevertheless...” the Cat says.

  Humpty says, “I think it’s because it’s easier for him to fly that way...”

  Hatter scowls. “Yes, him and his flying and teleporting. Why, you could simply fly over the mud and pop onto the other side of that door if you want. Must be nice.”

  The Cat turns his nose up. “But I shan’t ruin the surprise. Plus, I have my policy of non-interference.”

  “Which you routinely ignore,” Malice mutters.

  Froud clears his throat. “I must inform you, there is also fire...and glitter.”

  “What’s that?” Humpty says.

  “I beg your pardon?” Malice says.

  Froud says, “Yes, the path on the left includes the Trials of Mud, Fire, and Slug. The path on the right is comprised of the Trials of Lavender, Glitter, and Cake.”

  “I don’t see any fire,” Hatter says.

  “That’s what the vase is for,” Froud says. “To create a firewall.”

  Gasps all around.

  “Not desirable!” Hatter shouts.

  Froud waves his hand dismissively. “It won’t burn you. On the other side, in the vase is a bunch of glitter for creating a glitter storm.”

  “Glitter storm?” Malice says.

  Froud waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. That won’t burn you either.”

  “You mentioned a Trial of Lavender?” Humpty says.

  Froud points at the moat of water. “It’s lavender water.”

  The Cat hisses.

  Froud jumps at the sound, before composing himself. “Yes, well... So which path shall Her Highness choose?”

  Malice says, “Well, what are behind the gates?”

  Froud says, “That I can’t tell you, but the Knight encourages you to choose the path most agreeable to your nature.”

  “Well, the whole set up is quite obvious. The one side is pink and girly, and I suppose this muddy side is meant to be macho and butch. I’m sure he is waiting on that side. It’s a test, correct?”