The following short story was written by my 12-year-old son; Riley Sanderson, who BTW loves Friedrich Nietzsche. Enjoy.
As she wandered about in the woods, Alice stumbled upon an enormously long table, that stretched farther than she could even see. Alice approached the abnormally long table, it was covered with a sheet of dirty and unwashed plates, teapots, teacups, and other cutlery. "I bet this table hosted the world's largest tea-party!" thought Alice, "That would surely be an odd inclusion the Guinness Book Of World Records," Alice tried to envision the title, "World's Largest Tea Party," Alice had to stop herself from laughing aloud. Beside the table, there was a railroad, it seemed to extend all the way to the other end of the long table. In the distance, Alice spotted two figures running towards her whom she could not make out, "Distance is quite cruel!" thought Alice "All it does is make you tired, dull your senses, and cost you money." The strange figures started to become interpretable, one was a man with a towering hat and green suit, the other was a giant hare who wore dirty, old clothing, Alice also heard their faint voices but could not make them out.
Alice began to ponder: "I wonder if they are the hosts. If so, they would have a lot of work to do, washing all those dishes." thought Alice. Alice began to hear breathing behind her, instinctively, she turned around to behold the head of the Cheshire Cat, staring at her with its much-hated grin, "I see you haven't made reservations." said the Cheshire Cat. "No, I just discovered this tea-party." answered Alice. "I see you've gotten bored staring at the walls," said Alice. "I never get bored. It's always pleasant to observe the walls in their natural habitat, and the ceiling is always a blast to talk to. Unfortunately, my ceiling recently got divorced, he has been very quiet lately." said the Cheshire Cat. All of a sudden, Alice remembered the hatted man and the hare who were close behind her, "No room, no room!" they screamed. Alice turned back around, "But there's plenty of room, it took you a couple minutes to even get here." asserted Alice. Suddenly, a cart arrived at the track with a tiny dormouse standing on the ledge, "No room, No room!" squeaked the dormouse in a high pitch as it fell back into the cart and fell to sleep. "I see, hop in" the hare eagerly requested. Alice vaulted over the cart's barriers, she found the inside of the cart quite comfortable and spacious, the hare and hatted man followed. Alice recalled the Cheshire Cat and looked around, searching for it. "The Cheshire cat must have disappeared." thought Alice.
The hatted man pulled a lever inside the cart, it began to accelerate so rapidly the hare and the hatted man were flung at Alice, squishing her. Alice screeched in pain, contracting her diaphragm so hard she felt as if it was going to launch straight out of her mouth. The cart zipped down the railway, until it collided with the barrier at the end of the railroad and they all shot into the air. Alice was thrown into a tree, the hatted man hit the ground, and the hare was launched at a chair. Alice got up and hastily swept off the soil on her dress with her hands, Alice looked around for the dormouse, but she couldn't see it anywhere. "The poor thing must have been flung so far that it'll never find its way back." Alice grieved. "I can't travel to the other side of the world just to get a mouse," thought Alice, "I must see the queen's garden. But what if I'm already on the other side of the world. Maybe that rabbit hole led me all the way to China, and this is what the country is really like." Alice gave up looking for the dormouse and headed towards the table in which the hatted man and the hare were already seated.
Upon sitting down, Alice noticed the dormouse in the middle of the table in a deep sleep. "I believe something is missing" speculated the hatted man. "Bertrand Russell?" guessed the hare. "No, I think it starts with an "N," corrected the hatted man. "Norman Bates!" squeaked the dormouse, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Not at all!" yelled the hatted man who seemed quite vexed with the inability to recall what he wished. "Well, you never really introduced yourselves yet." Alice reminded. "Yes, yes! Correct! The answer is names! You win... us to tell you our names! Hurray!" the hatted man exclaimed. "People call me the March Hare." the hare asserted. "And those same people call me the Mad Hatter" the Hatter proclaimed, "And you, miss? What do those people call you?" he added. "My mother named me Alice, she says it is a very pretty name." answered Alice.
"Well, you must take some tea, Alice." encouraged the March Hare. "What type of tea is it?" asked Alice. "Every type you could comprehend, we have black tea, peppermint tea, jasmine tea, chai tea, ginger tea, rooibos tea, cinnamon tea, dandelion tea, and rabbit ear tea; the rabbit ear tea is made with fresh rabbit ears from a local white rabbit carrying a stopwatch we found in the woods." said the Mad Hatter. "Does the hatter mean the white rabbit? Oh, the poor thing, I bet it was terrified!" thought Alice. "I think you should stick to the tea without animals in it." Alice suggested politely. "The rabbit ear tea did taste a bit odd, but you still must have some tea." agreed the March Hare. "I shall take the...peppermint tea." said Alice. The Hatter lifted the teapot, assigned Alice a cup, and poured the tea into her teacup, Alice didn't notice there was only one teapot. "This peppermint tea looks quite strange." said Alice worryingly. "Oh, to save teapots, we just put every type of tea in one." said the Hatter as Alice was taking a gulp, Alice spat the tea back into the teacup. "Did I just drink the white rabbit?" Alice thought to herself. "I change my mind on the tea, I don't really want any" said Alice, uneasy. The Hatter reached for her teacup and dumped the remaining tea inside the teapot. "Well, you must, at least, have something" complained the March Hare. "Is there anything to eat?" asked Alice. "Certainly, well there's...um..., well, nothing coming to mind right now." said the March Hare.
"Would you like some of Brian?" asked the Hatter. "What a cruel thing to do. To name an animal, raise it, then eat it." thought Alice. The Hatter claps his hands, "Brian!" he calls. Out from the trees, a short, obese, expressionless boy wrapped in heavy chains, who seemed to have been wearing band or a strip of some kind that outlined his scalp, slowly waddled, looking fatigued, toward the Mad Hatter. The Mad Hatter curved his hand around the skull of the overweight boy, lifting it open, revealing an exposed, slimy brain wrapped in red blood vessels, the Mad Hatter picked up his fork and knife, he proceeded to pull the knife back and forth whilst holding the brain tissue still with the fork, sawing away a piece of the live boy's brain. The Mad Hatter plucked the piece of the boy's brain out with his fork, presenting it to Alice. "N-no th-thanks" Alice stuttered, shocked. "Suit yourself!" replyed the Mad Hatter. The Mad Hatter lifted the fork, a sort of juice, slightly less viscous than water, dripped from the piece of the fat boy's brain, the Mad Hatter stuck the fork inside his mouth, showing neither disgust nor hesitation. The boy whom he harvested the brain from seemed quite at ease, he didn't seem that disturbed at all. "Does this poor, little boy care he's being eaten?" thought Alice, "What happens when the Hatter eats too much of his brain? Maybe he already did, that would explain the utter indifference to the fact that he is being eaten!" The Mad Hatter cut another piece out of the poor, fat boy's head. "Here, try some!" requested the Mad Hatter. The Mad Hatter rested the fork inside the fat, little boy's mouth. "Mmmmm, that's pretty good" replyed the fat, little boy in a slow, emotionless voice. "Yes, Brian's head is very tasty today. Brian has learned many new things!" said the Mad Hatter. "And I am his teacher!" added the March Hare. "W-What h-has he learned?" asked Alice, concerned of the chained, fat boy. "How to play the oboe, obviously!" answered the March Hare. Alice found learning to play the oboe quite random, and not at all obvious. "Well, it is time for you to go, Brian." said the Mad Hatter, he closed his skull and sent him away. "Hey! I didn't get any!" complained the March Hare, "You should have taken some when it was the time!" replyed the Hatter. "But I demand some!" demanded the March Hare. "Shut up!" commanded the Hatter. "Okay," the March Hare said silently and guiltily.
"Does anyone want to solve a question?" asked the Hatter. The March Hare and Alice shook their head. "Here's a question: is the following sentence true or false? This sentence is false." said the Hatter. "Oh, this is easy!But it looks like the March Hare is struggling so I shall say it aloud," Alice thought. "Well, the sentence is true because...uhh..., oh dear! If it's true, it must be false. But if it's false it must be true!" spoke Alice. "Ah, you've fallen into a paradox" replied the Hatter with a large grin. "But if it's false, it must be true. But if it's true it, must be false. But if it's false, it must be true! But..." the March Hare kept repeating. "What time is it?" asked Alice. The Hatter pulled out a stopwatch, Alice noticed the stopwatch wasn't moving, "I thought you fixed this." the Hatter said, confused. "It was the best butter." replied the March Hare. "But it didn't work." the Hatter said in a melancholy tone. "But it was the best butter." replied the March Hare. "Let me see that butter." asked the Hatter. The March Hare handed a stick of butter to the Hatter. The Mad Hatter, with fury, smashed the butter on the table, but underneath the smashed butter, the dormouse's blood-red guts covered the end of the butter stick, "The best butter!? This is the worst butter!" the Mad Hatter screamed, Alice watched in fright, all that remained of the poor dormouse was its tiny, little head and an abrupt squeak of terror, pain, and death. "But if it's true, it must be false. But if it's false, it must be true. But if it's true, it must be false. But..." the March Hare continued repeating. The Mad Hatter reached for the butter knife and violently stabbed the top of the March Hare's head so hard, the dull blade plowed through his skull, penetrating into his brain, "That's enough! Shut up!" yelled the Mad Hatter. The March Hare let out the most dreadful and agonizing scream of pain, suffering, and most of all, death. "M-m-maybe I-I sh-should g-g-go," said Alice, terrified and shivering from the deaths she witnessed. "Yes, you should be on your way, now!" the Mad Hatter agreed calmly. Alice got up from her seat and headed back into the woods. Once Alice was out of sight of the Mad Hatter, Alice ran for her life, for she was traumatized.