Alice in
WAMmerland
With apologies to Lewis Carroll
(Although not too many since he was a
pedophile and all…)
***Disclaimer***Disclaimer***Disclaimer***
I thought I would give a little background on the birth of this tale. It evolved from a discussion Le Artiste and I got into after he received a request for Fairytale Wam. You know “Sinking Beauty”, “Snow White and the Seven Submerged Dwarves.”, etc. As a joke I started conceptualizing, “The Wizard of Bogs”, a parody of the WAM community with liberal sinking thrown in. There would have been the Kaolly Lion, the TinMariman, and of course the Wizard of Boggs, a huge head suspended in a pool of flaming quicksand. While this would have been a lot of fun, I ran into some problems.
Number 1: I would need to get everyone’s permission to be parodied and I would probably succeed in pissing someone off.
Number 2: I still don’t know enough about the major WAM personalities and probably would succeed in pissing someone off.
Number 3: I couldn’t come up with a character for Le Artiste and would probably succeed in pissing him off.
So I decided to work on this instead, maybe someday I’ll get around to the other. Besides I have always been fascinated with the character of Alice in Wonderland, and I hate her long blonde hair, since mine is baby fine and I can’t ever grow it past a bob. So its time for your come-uppence.
So enough jabber already let’s get to the erotica of a light and erotic nature. By the way, this will also be a fully clothed sink, since I have had some requests for such a thing. But she will probably lose at least one shoe. J
Oh and also treacle, is the arsty-smartsy Anglican word for Molasses. I only mention it since, it kind of hinges on things.
So let’s check the scoreboard: (fem, mast: 4 pages of it after about seven pages of humour, non-grim, clothed in Alice in Wonderland garb sink.)
See ya on the bottom, (that’s pretty catchy, don’t you think)
IVY J
*** *** *** ***
Once upon a time there was a girl named Alice. (It’s a pretty
cheesy way to start off a story, I know. I also know that thousands upon
thousands of times there were girls named Alice, but this particular story happened
to this particular Alice once, so I guess its appropriate.) Alice was a typical
young girl of high caliber. (Okay, let’s straighten this out right away, I want
to move away from that Carrollian 12 year old vein. This particular Alice was a
college co-ed, so that puts her at about twenty, so all the light and erotic
things that will happen to her are all above board.) Let me start over.
Once upon a particular time there was a
particular Alice who was a particular college co-ed of an unparticular age
around twenty. Alice was on her way back from a costume party one summer
evening, dressed coincidentally enough as Alice in Wonderland. Now this was not
at all particular for our Alice who did enjoy attending summer evening costume
parties as Alice in Wonderland. Her black patent leather English schoolgirl
play dress shoes tapped merrily on the sidewalk conveniently enough, as she
merrily tapped her way home. Suddenly her merrily tapping ceased, as a white
rabbit crossed her path. The white rabbit wasn’t tapping merrily, but he too
stopped as Alice crossed his way.
“My what a cute little white rabbit, “
Alice remarked flashing a look-at-the-cute-little-woodland-animal grin.
The white rabbit looked rather
disdainfully at Alice, with what would pass for a disdainful look on a white
rabbit. “My dear,” it said, “would you cease referring to me in the lower case!
I am the White Rabbit, capitals, proper noun, etcetera.”
Alice’s
look-at-the-cute-little-woodland-animal grin quickly faded and was replaced
with a look-at-the-cute-little-woodland-animal-who-can-speak-in-a-slightly-cheesy-British-Accent
look of puzzlement.
“Come on child, look at me! Smartly
patterned vest? Oversized dangling pocket watch? Do I look like any old
refer-to-in-lower-case white rabbit to you? Don’t they teach you around twenty
years of age college co-eds anything these days?” the whi..Oops sorry…White
Rabbit said, tapping his foot impatiently as only a proper noun, capital
lettered, White Rabbit can do.
Alice gave an embarrassed little cough.
The White Rabbit eyed Alice from
head-to-toe. “Let’s see now…. black patent leather English schoolgirl play
dress shoes, knee high white socks, English school girl pale blue frock, little
white aprony thingy, hairband of tortoise shell. Oh dear, I hope that wasn’t
anyone I knew! My dear, I don’t believe
you are playing with a full deck, in fact you may not even have the box the
deck came in, but I’m afraid you’ll have to do. Come along.” The White Rabbit
said, and began to scamper off in a foot and a half, walk on two legs, White
Rabbit sort of way.
“Come along?!?! But where?!?!” Alice
retorted.
“No time for questions, besides ‘?!?!’
isn’t even proper punctuation for a question, let alone proper punctuation.
Hurry! Hurry! You’re la…”
Alice held up a wary finger, cutting the
White Rabbit short. “Careful now, we don’t want to infringe on any past works
of literature.”
The White Rabbit huffed disgruntledly.
“Look around, this is a work of parody, bearing little if any resemblance to a
past work of literature, aside from you dress, your name, and myself. Besides,
I was merely going to say ‘You’re late’, I’m usually toted with the unfortunate
‘I’m late, I’m late, for a very…”
Alice held up another warning finger.
“Do stop pointing, it’s rather impolite,
but point taken. Well either way, ‘I’m late’ or ‘You’re late’ a White Rabbit
can’t get very far in life not saying either. So let’s stop arguing syntax and
semantics and GO! And I think I voice the reader’s opinion also.”
The White
Rabbit said, scampering, hopping, two-leg strolling off.
Alice didn’t quite understand that last
remark, but she followed anyway, for it wouldn’t be much of a story if she
hadn’t. So the two of them trotted off down the street and tur
“Wait a minute! Where the hell are we
going?!?!” Alice queried, interrupting a nice bit of narrative.
“*Sigh*”, the White Rabbit sighed,
“We’re just going to go into the woods and down a little hole to WAMmerland.”
“You mean Wonderland, don’t you?”
“Right..ummm..Whatever” The White
Rabbit answered, hoping to get the narrative back on track.
“So through these woods, and down a
little hole?” Alice said, as they stopped in front of a wooded area. Because as
I was saying, they trotted down the street, and turned a corner to the nearby
woods. “How safe are these woods after a summer evening’s costume party?”
“LISTEN SISTER, THIS AIN’T CENTRAL PARK
AT 3 A.M.!!!!!!!!!!!” The White Rabbit screamed, losing his put-upon cheesy
English Accent and reverting to a more New York City cabbie-esque brogue. “NOW
STICK CLOSE!!!!!”
So Alice stuck close and followed the
fuming White Rabbit into the nearby woods and down a little hole. So stunned
was she by his outburst, she didn’t even argue the physics of that feat.
***
*** ***
***
Now what would have gone into this spot
would have been a little bit about Alice falling down the Rabbit hole. I wrote
it, wasn’t too happy about it. I mean it had a few good lines and a fairly nice
verbal pun. Also there was a reference to her ample cleavage nearly smothering
her by blowing into her face. But I’ve decided to excise it. So take this fact
away with you, she’s wearing bloomers. (See her skirt blew up at one point and
we learned that fact.) Otherwise, let’s suffice it to say in the top of the
hole, out the bottom, rather uneventful.
***
*** ***
***
Well, in, out, rather uneventful, except
for the fact that the hole let her out a foot above a table set for tea, where
she landed on a conveniently empty space, without disturbing the rest of the
table.
“That was rather uneventful,” Alice
said to herself, with her eyes closed drinking in the blackness.
She opened her eyes expecting to see
the bottom of the hole. Instead she saw a rather large headed man with a rather
large hat and a muddy brown rabbit with hay sticking to the mud at the top of
his head, staring intently at her.
“Hare,” the muddy brown rabbit said,
“let’s get that straight, right away”
“My, Wonderland is populated with the
most ill-mannered anthropomorphic animals,” Alice said, surprising herself in
using the word anthropomorphic.
“Pay no attention, to my
ill-mannered anthropomorphic friend, milady. He’s quite mad,”the large headed
man whispered in a conspiratory tone to Alice. But being that everyone was a
foot away from each other the Hare heard anyway.
“Why is he mad?” Alice asked as the
large hatted/headed man helped her to sit upright.
“Well the spring thaw has arrived
late, and when it does it will be too cold to do anything anyway. He’s as mad
as a March Hare interested in WAM”
“Don’t listen to him, he’s mad
also.” The March Hare interested in WAM retorted, “You know what they say about
the size of a man’s hat.”
“No, not particularly. What do they say
about the size of a man’s hat?” Alice answered honestly.
“Well, that’s why I was asking you, I
don’t know either. But I’m sure it has something to do with madness.” The March
Hare interested in WAM replied.
The large headed/hatted man, grumbled
at such an obviously telegraphed joke, and helped Alice off the table and into
a chair.
“No explanations are really necessary,
I’m the Mad WAMmer”, the large headed man said, bowing and doffing his hat and
throwing himself off balance. “ Welcome to the WAMmerland convention ‘98”
Alice stared at the man, noticing aside
from his hat and his head; he was wearing a turn of the century swimming
costume. She also noticed that surrounding the table set for tea, were booths
of various sorts, a enormous table filled with pies, and strangely enough a mud
pit of to one side. Of course, everything seemed awful dusty and unused, even
the mud pit.
“Well, I’m sorry I missed it, “ Alice
said somewhat uneasily.
“ Missed it, it can finally begin!” The
Mad WAMmer replied, dancing a merry jig, which he quickly stopped due to the
exertion caused by his huge head.
“Yes, we can start, “ said the March
Hare interested in WAM, jubilated, “You are the only person to show.”
“Well, I like to look at it as the
first to show, other are bound to come in droves “ the Mad WAMmer replied,
showing he was indeed completely mad. “WAMmerland is a large and diverse place
it will take time to get here, so my strategy is to keep this place open for at
least three months straight, somebody is bound to stumble in, …I mean..travel
far and wide to visit us.”
“It does look like you’re expecting
a lot of people, just look at all those pies, “ Alice said pointing to the
hundreds of pies stacked on a table.
“Those, those are only for two or
three people. I’ll have to order more when the droves arrive.” The Mad WAMmer
stated in his madness.
“Two…or three?!?! Surely WAM can’t stand for Weight
Assessment and Management then”
“No, it stands for Wet and
Messy. You see this is WAM….” The Mad WAMmer replied, picking up a pie.
“And this is WAM…” said the
March Hare interested in WAM, splashing in the mud pit.
“I hate to interrupt, but do
you have a ladies room?” Alice asked.
“No, we really don’t like to
consider that WAM” replied the Mad WAMmer, letting that last statement being
taken for madness by whoever wanted to.
“I get it. That’s WAM. That’s
WAM. Its all WAM here.” Alice groaned, knowing that if you knew enough Carroll
somebody was going to have to say it sometime.
“Righto” replied the Mad
WAMmer. “Now do you want to sell some videos or peddle your original artwork.”
“Doesn’t sound like I have much
of a choice. But, I don’t have any videos or artwork.”
“Fine, fine. Then we’ll have to
make you a guest speaker.” Stated the March Hare interested in WAM.
“Guest speaker?!?! I don’t
know anything about WAM!”
“Who does, who does. Tell you
what, go jump into the mud puddle. It’s all dusty anyway and needs to be
stirred up. Roll around in it. Savor it. We’ll watch and tell you how many more
times you have to do it until you can be deemed an expert.”
Alice cocked an eyebrow at
this cheap ploy.
“Perhaps I can have one of those
first?” Alice said, eyeing the table full of pies.
“I thought you’d never ask, “ the
Mad WAMmer replied, brandishing a pie.
Alice stared at the pie,
hungrily. It was oversized, spilling with cream, and had a little sign poking
out of the top reading ‘WEAR ME’.
“MMM..It looks too good to eat.” Alice
said, licking her lips, and having it come out rather seductively in a piece of
light erotica. (I figured I ‘d better throw something erotic in somewhere,
trust me I’m almost through with the parody and the next section has a sink in
it. –IVY)
“Well, that’s really the point isn’t
it. “The March Hare interested in WAM giggled, as the Mad WAMmer hurled the pie
at Alice.
*SPLAT*
As the oversized pie plate slid down her
face, and the spilling cream clogged her nostrils. As the sticky cream slid
down her neck, and dripped into her dress, sliding luke-warm-cream-left-in-the-sun
trickles, over her breasts. Alice sighed. She should have seen that coming.
Well, she did, unfortunately it was too late. Suddenly little lines of
asterisks appeared and she was transported to another section of
WAMmerland…like so.
***
*** *** ***
After the asterisks dissipated, Alice
blinked and blinked again at what she saw. She stood on the edge of a lake of
treacle. Above the lake of treacle a Cheshire Cat grinned down at her from a
tree branch.
“Where the hell am I now?” exclaimed
Alice.
“Cool it, honey, “ the Cheshire Cat said,
without breaking his Cheshire Cat grin. “You’re at the Lake of Treacle, that’s
pretty obvious.”
“And this I’m supposed to be happy
about?” Alice answered somewhat sarcastically.
“Well, we could have shrunk you, and
believe me a six inch heroine doesn’t last long here in WAMmerland”
“I see your point” Alice said. “Do you
know of a way I could get home, ….ummm..not that WAMmerland isn’t fascinating
and all.”
“Sure, all you have to do is drink the
potion in this bottle, “ said the Cheshire Cat waving a bottle labeled “Drink
Me To Get Back Home.”
“Gimme, gimme, gimme” screamed Alice.
“Now here in WAMmerland we don’t
respond too well to “Gimmes” “ the Cheshire Cat grinned. In fact, the increase
in his grin from that last statement increased even more after he dropped the
bottle, smack dab into the Treacle Lake. And if bottles could grin, I’m sure it
would have joined him.
“HEY!!!” Alice exclaimed, petulantly
capitalizing Hey.
“I’m sorry I guess you’ll have to hop
in and get it”, grinned the Cheshire Cat, so much so he almost split his head
in half.
“That’s about as cheap a ploy, as
those other two tried to pull on me” groaned Alice.
“Yes, but this bottle you need… I’m not
all that mad you see,” grinned the Cheshire Cat, grinning so much so that he
toppled from his branch into the treacle.
“Hmmm, I suppose…” considered Alice,
“but that treacle doesn’t look at all inviting.”
“Hold on a minute,” grinned the
Cheshire Cat as he sunk to his Cheshire neck in the treacle. Suddenly, light
mists of steam rose from the treacle and it began to bubble slightly.
“Well now that you put it that way, “
Alice jeered placing her hands on her hips, “Let’s see cool treacle, warm
treacle, cool, warm.” Alice said weighing the advantages on invisible scales
that seemed somehow connected to her hands. “They both seem equally
unpleasant.” Apparently she came up with nil.
“You let me know,” the Cheshire Cat
grinned. In fact that’s all Alice could really tell he was doing, since his
head and face had disappeared under the treacle, leaving only a smile to break
through the dark surface of bubbling treacle.
“Fine, “ Alice huffed. “But this is
really soooooooo contrived,” she said to the Cat, or an invisible audience, or
an auteur in the ether, or perhaps to no one in particular.
The Cheshire Cat had disappeared
beneath the surface. But my guess is that he still was smiling.
****
**** **** ****
Alice stared hesitantly at the lake of
treacle before her. The spot around the bank she stood on seemed shallow
enough, but out 20 feet or so, near the bottle, things got deeper. The warm
treacle bubbled, and as each bubble burst, the lake whispered and burped and
giggled at her. The cloying sweet odor of the warm treacle hung heady in the
air. All in all, things were looking rather unpleasant. And besides, there may
have been a drowned Cheshire Cat in there somewhere.
Alice poked the treacle near her with the
toe of her shoe; it was thick and unyielding. As she pulled her foot away,
small tendrils of goo clung to her shoe, hanging in the air awhile and then
dripping and spiraling downward to rejoin the lake that was their home.
Alice took a deep breath and putting her
best foot forward, placed it atop the shallow treacle. As she continued
pressing her weight down, the treacle sighed and excepted her foot, swallowing
the sole of her shoe and climbing up its sides. She could feel the warmth of
the goop through her shoe. It wasn’t unpleasant, rather nicely tepid, like a
swimming pool on a hot day. It was actually rather soothing, for after all,
black patent leather English schoolgirl shoes weren’t the most comfortable
things for adventuring in strange realms. Alice smiled a little to herself, but
then the treacle gulped disgustingly at her foot, and things began to look
unpleasant again.
Alice brought her other foot out into
the Treacle Lake, and as she stood there pondering what to do next, she felt herself
sink a little into the sticky mire. “Perhaps it isn’t as deep as all that, “
she thought to herself and brought one foot up to take a step forward. The
tarry treacle regrettably surrendered its prize with a nasty slurp. Alice
looked down at her ruined shoe. The black patent leather was dark and shiny
with the treacle that hung from it and dripped back into the lake. “Well, I
guess I won’t be wearing this outfit to any more summer evening costume
parties.”
Alice placed her foot down in the muck
and tried to bring the other one up, but it was stuck fast. The treacle was
deepening and had almost completely swallowed her feet. She struggled against
the grip of the gook, but only succeeded in tilting her foot out of her shoe.
With a happy gurgle, warm treacle began to ooze into her shoe, filling the void
she had vacated. She felt a warm wetness down near her toes, and as she slid
her foot back into the shoe, the sole of her dainty foot slid through the warm
muck that had collected there. “Mmmm” she hummed under her breath, as she felt
the treacle squish under her foot, and overflow out of the shoe, thickly
caressing her ankle. Her sock had become saturated with the tarry gunk, and she
wiggled her toes down in her shoe, feeling them stick together and release, due
to the light coating of treacle they had received. She was surprised to find
herself wishing her feet bare, so she could feel the warm goo slide over her
toes, gumming its way between them. As suddenly as the Treacle Lake had become
warm due to the Cheshire Cat’s magic, Alice became pleasantly warm herself.
Alice snapped out of her revelry, she
was about half way to the bottle. After all she wanted to leave this place,
didn’t she? As the warm treacle slid around her ankles and squished its way
through her shoes, she had her doubts.
Alice cleared her head and proceeded to
trudge onward. Well, tried to proceed onward anyway, since her foot was held
fast. She was mired in the warm and tarry goo, just past her ankles. She
struggled against the treacle’s grip. The goo around her leg bubbled and
churned, but she couldn’t lift her leg up. She shook her foot slowly under the
sludge, for slowly was all she could move it in its thick embrace. Back and
forth, back and forth. Slowly she felt
her foot free itself from her shoe, she smiled as she felt the warm slime
swallow her almost naked foot, slowly seeping in and snuggling up against her
bare skin through her thin sock. She curled her stockinged toes beneath the
surface, little globs of goo squishing in her toes. She slid her foot around
under the surface; things seemed solid enough down there. She only had to free
herself from the lake’s sticky clutches.
Alice braced her other leg and reached
down and grabbed her calf, and pulled and pulled and pulled. Slowly she felt
her foot rise from the mucky trap. And finally, pointing her foot, her wiggling
toes wrestling with the grabbing treacle, she pulled her leg free from the
suction with a loud slurp. Her foot was unrecognizable, so covered with
treacle; it seemed only a thick brown glob. A thick tendril of goo hung from
her foot and slid into the lake, ropy and sticky like raw taffy ready for the
pull.
She moved a little forward and brought
her foot down. The morass was getting deeper as she slowly watched her foot
sink to mid-calf. The dark treacle slid up her white socks and stained them
brown, like a thick, sludgy rising tide.
As both her legs settled into the swamp
of goo, spread apart by the attempt at walking, Alice began to panic. She knew
she would not be able to free herself from the embrace of the sludge, she had
sunk too deep, and was helpless against its powerful sticky clutches. She
trashed about in the mire, her legs futiley pumping up and down, barely moving
in the thick grip of the lake. The goo bubbled around her, mocking her,
slurping merrily as she settled in deeper. Thin strands of treacle hung from
her legs, like strands of a spider's silk, as the slime pulled her deeper.
Wide-eyed with terror Alice watched as
a huge bubble rose to the surface near the bottle. It grew and grew, bloating
like a sick balloon, until finally it burst, sending strands of goop flying,
the strongest missiles splattering Alice in a thick and heavy rain. There where
the bubble had been, hung the disembodied head of the Cheshire Cat. “Relax
honey, this isn’t a grim story, “ the Cat grinned, a little disquietingly, for
after all he was a disembodied head.
“Oh yeah, I had forgotten…” Alice said to
no one in particular since the
Cat had faded
away. She proceeded to get back into character and assess the situation.
Wiping a glob of treacle from under her
eye, she saw that skirt of her dress had begun to billow out over the surface
of the lake. Her thrashings had mired her in the slime almost up to her knees.
Now that a quick editorial reminder dispelled her panic, the warm pleasant
feeling settled back in. She watched, as the hem of her skirt, slowly grew
dark, stained by the touch of the dark goo. She sighed as she sank deeper, the
thick goo climbing over her socks, reaching past her knees. She purred, as the
smooth warm treacle, slid around the bare flesh of her smooth warm legs. The
pleasant feelings in her grew, and sexual bliss began to poke its head on the
horizon. Perhaps things in WAMmerland weren’t so bad after all.
The thick sludge caressed its way higher
and higher up her legs, as she settled in deeper. She pumped her legs slightly,
feeling the sticky kiss of the treacle on her bare skin, as her movements
slowly freed and returned her thighs to the lake’s hungry embrace. Her powder
blue skirt, was now a dark and glistening brown, as it spread out further on
the surface of the mire. Down underneath its goo-laden billows, tongues of warm
slime began lapping at the hem of her bloomers. Bubbles rose and burst under
her skirt, splattering her legs with the warm and sticky butterfly kisses of
the lake. And as each speck of goo kissed and tickled her bare flesh, the
growing heat in her body shadowed the warmth of the touch.
Alice moaned and pushed her skirt down,
plastering its hot dampness against her legs. The moist skirt conformed itself
to the shape of her receding legs, the sticky goo soaking through her bloomers
in spots, and bringing the warm, soft lick of the treacle higher and higher up
her thighs.
She leaned forward a little, sliding her
hands under the surface of the goo. She squished thick treacle in her hands.
She felt it flow around her fingers, miniature tongues licking, tiny mouths
kissing each one. And when she brought a hand out, the treacle flowed with it,
not wanting to relinquish its hold.
“Ooooohh” Alice moaned as she, hiked up
her skirt with one sticky hand, warm drops of goo sliding down her smooth white
belly. The thick hot tongue of the lake continued to lick its way up the smooth
skin of legs, greedily swallowing the silk of her bloomers. Alice grabbed a
handful of warm slime and slid her hand underneath the waistband of her
undergarment. Squishing her hand closed, she felt the warm treacle flow out and
down her bristling pubic hair. She slid her hand down, matting her pubic thatch
with sludge. She felt the sticky hair beneath her fingers, like cool and tacky
grass on a dewy morning. She continued to slide her hand, back and forth, her
legs pumping with a rhythm, the treacle continuing its climb to meet the sticky
fingers stroking her clitoris. Each tacky touch lingered, and the hot dampness
of her sexual ecstasy mingled with the warm traces of goo in her hand.
The treacle had risen, or she had sunk,
and the sticky dampness of her soaked bloomers clung to the upper reaches of
her thighs. She pulled her waistband out, letting the warm slime flow in.
Slowly its sticky hot mouth flowed down her sex, mingling with her flicking fingers.
She threw her head back and moaned, as the warm lick of the goo flowed against
her damp and slick and sticky clitoris. She rubbed the tarry slime in her,
squeezed it against her, and led it to all the areas it pleasantly teased at.
Waves of orgasm met with the waves of the sludge. Submerged in the goo, her sex
welcomed the hot and slimy tongue of the lake. It flowed around her, in her,
slid and kissed and sucked, until Alice screamed in pleasure. The heat of her
orgasm mixing with the heat of the lake, until it too screamed, bubbles
bursting all around in liquid ecstasy, soaking and splattering Alice as she
writhed in the grasp of the lake. She thrashed and bucked and the lake churned.
Flesh and slime became one, sliding across each other, through each other.
Alice gave into the touch of the lake,
and the lake swallowed more and more of her in its wet and warm and hungry
mouth. The treacle slid up her belly, as she squirmed continuing to finger
herself below its depths, Her dress was plastered against her, clinging kisses
of goo, caressing the bare flesh underneath. She threw her head back again, the
lake gulping her down, sliding tongue after warm wet tongue over her clothes,
under her clothes. The lake climaxed as she did, spewing thick dark globs of
treacle all over her creamy pale flesh. Bubbles exploded in harmony with her
screams, and Alice’s cheeks flushed pink with ecstasy. Her treacle soaked hair
slapped against her as she shook her head with each wave of pleasure. An explosion of light in her eyes replaced
the dark surface of the lake, as Alice succumbed to the last of the lakes
lingering kisses. Finally, Alice buckled and sank back into the lake, which
held her buoyant in its tarry embrace. The lower half of each globe of her
breasts held in a thick and sticky grasp of the surface. And as each wave of
the churning lake, lapped at her erect nipples, she closed her eyes and shook
in her afterglow.
****
**** **** ****
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,
Babycakes, “ said a Caterpillar sitting on a large tub of joint compound,
smoking a suspicious looking smoke through a hookah.
Alice slowly raised her head from where
it was bobbing on the surface of the lake. She realized now that her
post-coital/treacle wallowing must screech to a tacked on ending.
“Well not very much I suppose, “ Alice
glared at the Caterpillar, “But if you keep calling me Babycakes, I will be.
I’m a little tired of the denizens of WAMmerland referring to me as Honey and
Baby and Sweetie, and I believe there was a Girlie-girl in there somewhere, but
it got edited out.”
The Caterpillar blushed with
embarrassment, as best as a caterpillar can do “Now, if you just grab the
bottle that has conveniently floated through thick treacle toward you, we can…”
“Hold on a minute, what happened to you
pulling me out, and making the joke that you have good traction because after
all you are a Caterpillar and all, and me not understanding, and you explaining
the caterpillar tractor joke to me, and all that.” Alice whined.
“Well, Girli….mmmm Alice, here’s the
deal its 4 a.m., and good little authors are getting tired, and besides we have
to make the deadline for the update. So I’m just moving things along.” The
Caterpillar explained.
“Okay, okay” Alice conceded.
“Now just drink the potion and then
say the word Klatu, Ve…”
Alice held up a sticky finger of
copyright warning.
“Hey, that’s a whole other story,
nobody will be looking for that in here.” The Caterpillar complained between
puffs on his hookah, “Fine, fine, you’re right, just drink the potion then.
Take all the glamour and mystery out of things. We’ll just have to save all the
jokes that we’re supposed to use in this section for the sequel.” And the
Caterpillar pouted, as best as a caterpillar could.
So, Alice extended a treacle-laden arm
and grabbed the potion, and through a simple and tersely written bit of magic,
was transported back to the edge of the nearby woods.
So terse in fact only one asterisk can be
used.
*
Alice smiled to herself as she recalled
the events that had taken place in WAMmerland. It all seemed like such a dream,
but the fact that she was covered with an liberal coating of sticky treacle and
missing a shoe, was a bit of a giveaway that it wasn’t. Kicking off her other
shoe and wiggling her soggy sock-covered toes on the sidewalk, she recalled the
new sexual yearnings that had awaken inside of her. Alice’s smile grew to a
size that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud. She thought of all the Wet
and Messy things that lay ahead of her in this world. If ever she returned to WAMmerland,
she knew she would easily be able to give them a run as a guest speaker at the
next convention. She’d show them who was the expert, and who was mad. And as
she set off home to clean up, there would have been a spring in her step, if
her feet hadn’t kept sticking to the cement.
