As it turned out, there wasn't time. Even as he spoke, the ground rumbled with stomping cards. Clubs came first, holding their shamrock-shaped lances high. The diamonds came after them, followed by the spades. The cards dropped to their faces on the ground, spread out like a bad poker hand.
The Heart Guards were last, strapping male and females dressed all in dark red. They accompanied the kings and queens, each of them bedecked in the finest ebony and scarlet silk gowns and linen suits of the Victorian era and glittering crowns that glinted off the bright sunshine. Even little card children wore suits with starched collars like her sons' and white ruffled dresses with high lace collars.
It took every ounce of restraint Brett had to not fall over laughing at the sight of Betty White, in her rose-and-heart trimmed scarlet gown with its giant bustle and stiff collar, strutting on the end. Allen Ludden was a tad subdued by comparison in his gold and ruby crown and white linen suit. Both carried scepters topped with huge ruby hearts. Ira Skutch, the Match Game producer, followed in a red and white Victorian suit that somehow managed to be open at the navel. Bill Daily the White Rabbit played the fanfare as he breathlessly caught up with them.
“Knave!” Betty demanded, pointing at the prostrate cards on the ground. “What, pray tell, are those? And what,” she ran a finger over a rose dripping blood-red paint, “happened to my roses? The most beautiful in the kingdom?”
Ira turned the cards over with his toes, making a face. “I recognize these men, Your Majesty. You banished them from the kingdom for planting the wrong roses and ruining your precious garden.”
“You!” Her pointed finger swung to Brett. “Why are they here if they were banished?”
Brett shrugged. “No clue, Bet...uh, Your Heart-ness.”
“We never saw 'em before in our lives,” David added smoothly.
“You know Miss,” Allen went on in a far gentler voice, “we've never seen anyone like you here. Are you a club? Or perhaps a diamond? You don't look like a chess piece...”
Brett didn't know how to curtsy, so she settled for a bow and nudged the boys to do the same. “Forgive us, Your Heart-ness, but we're strangers in this land. My sons and I are merely passing through. My name is Brett Somers, and these are Adam,” she touched their shoulders gently, “and David Klugman.”
“When you address a queen,” Betty ordered, “you should open your mouth a little wider, speak up, turn out your toes,” she pulled and pushed at Brett's arms and legs, “and always say 'Yes Your Majesty.”
Brett smirked and pulled her legs right back where they were. “Sure, Betty.”
“Mom,” David muttered, “I wouldn't piss her off. She's the Queen here and can take off your head.”
“Um, dear,” Allen held up Larry's chin with his scepter, “what are we going to do with those three liar's club members?”
“Off with their heads!” Betty yelled, waving a hand. “To the dungeon with them!”
Ira's smug grin annoyed Brett to no end. “I agree, Your Majesty. They broke the law...and we might be able to torture them and find out who returned them to this garden, too!”
“Hey!” David’'s yell almost topped Betty's. “That's not fair! All they did was paint your roses. Come on, Mrs. Lud...er, Your Majesty, anyone can make a mistake!”
“He's right.” Brett glared at her. “Have a heart, Your Majesty! Or at least, use the one in your chest, not on your little stick there.”
“We only behead the worst criminals, dear,” Allen added gently. “Why don't you let them off with a warning?”
“Who's Queen here?” Betty bellowed before waving three of her biggest Heart Guards over. “Take them to the basements. We'll decide their fate later.”
“Mooom,” David whispered as they dragged the protesting cards towards the castle, “I still don't think that's right. They didn't do anything.”
“Yeah,” his mother muttered, “but we're not the ones in charge here. I don't want us to end up in the dungeon with them.”
“You know,” Betty went on, ignoring their chatter, “you have a rather strong voice yourself, Miss Somers. You wouldn't make a bad queen if there weren't already queens in Wonderland.”
“Mom's a queen, all right,” David broke in with a smirk. “A drama queen!”
Betty jumped in before Brett could reprimand her son. “Now, what I want to know is, do you play croquet?”
“Well, I'm not great at it,” Brett stammered, “but the boys play at our barbecues sometimes.”
“That's good enough!” Queen Betty squawked. “White Rabbit!” she called, “get them flamingos and hedgehogs, and tell the card wickets we have three more for the game.”
There was barely time to blink before someone shoved a pink bird with a very long, rubbery neck in Brett's arms. “What in the hell is this?” One of the cards dropped a fuzzy porcupine-like animal at her feet. “Hey, Your Majesty, how are we supposed to play with these?”
“Owww!” Adam pushed his flamingo off his arm. “Mom, the bird tried to bite me!”
“Moooom!” David yelled from where he clutched a flurry of magenta feathers. “It's trying to get away!”
“Betty...Your Majesty...” Brett wasn't having much more luck. “How the hell am I supposed to hit the ball?” She grabbed the neck so it aimed at the hedgehog, but the damn thing always moved its neck or attempted to escape before it could.
“Talk to it sweetly,” Betty trilled. “They like that.” She cooed at her flamingo like it was a baby. Whatever she did worked. The creature ran up on its own and smacked the hedgehog so hard, it sizzled through every arched card on the lawn and tapped against her pole.
“SWEETLY?!” Brett roared. “I'll show you SWEETLY!” She swung the damn bird by the legs as hard as she possibly could, not caring about the horrified squawk from the bird or Betty. Everyone dove for cover as the hedgehog banged against the heart trees and sculpted bushes like a ping pong ball before finally ending up against a rose bush.
“I told you,” Queen Betty wailed, “you don't smack an animal like that! Off with your head!”
Brett glared at her. “Go soak yours. You're cheating! You don't play this game with flamingos and hedgehogs. Everyone knows that!”
“What's all this?” Brett suppressed a groan as The Red King strolled over, carrying his own scarlet flamingo. “You know that slamming is against the rules!”
“I tried to tell her you don't treat animals that way in this kingdom,” Queen Betty grumbled huffily “But she lost her temper. Only I'm allowed to lose my temper!”
“Of course you are, You're Majesty,” Ira the Knave simpered. “You have the greatest temper of anyone in the Under Lands!”
Brett gave her the death glare that usually sent her sons running for the Hollywood Hills. “If we weren't playing with moving mallets and balls and you didn't cheat...”
“Mom!” David grabbed her fist and pushed it by her side. “You're threatening a queen! I think that's illegal.”
“It's not illegal,” Allen explained, “but it doesn't make her happy, either. Ladies, why don't you make up, and we'll go on with our game?”
The Red King inspected the croquet grounds with a sweep of his golden head. “I don't think we can go on with our game. Not until we play by the rules.”
“Rules?” Betty snorted. “We play by my rules!”
“Of course,” the Knave added quickly. “Your rules, and only your rules! Right, Red King?”
He nodded with that knowing little smile “And we need to make sure everyone's playing by them. After all, you are the Queen of this fair land.” He kissed her hand, ignoring the face Allen made.
“Mom,” Adam muttered, “the Red King's grossing me out.”
“Yeah, me too. Ok, break it up, folks!” She finally pushed between Betty and the Red King. “Your Red-ness,” she added, “I don't know if you've seen her finger recently, but she has a ring on. That means she's married, and not to you.”
Glints of red hot anger flashed briefly in the Red King's eyes, but they passed so fast Brett thought she imagined them. “Of course.” He bowed low before Allen. “Forgive me, but I couldn't help admiring your intelligent wife. After all, a ruler must assert themselves to make sure the game is played properly. The rules are the rules.”
“What's this obsession with rules?” Brett grumbled as she snatched her flamingo and took another whack at the hedgehog, only for it to run away. “Sure, we need rules. Keeps people from killing each other. But sometimes, folks just want to have a little fun. That's not so bad, either.”
“Fun?” The Red King raised an eyebrow. “The most important thing is doing things the right way. Fun isn't a consideration.”
“Of course, we have fun!” Brett finally grabbed the hedgehog's soft underbelly and plopped it on the ground. “You can have fun in any way you choose. It doesn't always have to be the right way.” She gave the hedgehog another smack. It banged against two bushes and a tree branch and almost took off Betty's crown before finally knocking Betty's hedgehog aside at the pole. “There! I win!”
“Don't worry, Your Majesty,” the Knave crooned as Betty's face turned an unbecoming shade of tomato sauce red, “you'll win the next game.”
“I'd better win,” Betty grumbled, “or everyone's going to the basement!”
“Perhaps,” the Red King suggested slyly, “we should take off the heads on all those cards who failed to let your hedgehog through.”
“Yes!” Betty turned to the cards quaking on the grounds. “Off with their heads!”
“Dear,” Allen scolded gently, “that's half our army right there! Maybe we should take away privileges instead. We may need them.”
“And YOU,” Betty yelled as she continued to Brett, “shouldn't be beating me! I ought to take your head off right here!”
Brett rubbed the side of her head. Now she really wished that the blackberry cordial at the Mad Tea Party hadn't been so damn fruity and delicious. She supposed she could blame Charles for her hangover. Wouldn't be the first time. She was very close to grabbing her children and walking out of this madhouse, while her sanity remained intact
She couldn't have been happier when Dickie Dawson and his boys trotted across the lawn on their shiny horses. “Your Majesty,” he called, “you must be kind to that fair elder maiden! She doesn't mean what she says.”
“Yeah!” Brett added. “What I mean is, best two out of three?”
“You're on,” the Queen of Hearts snapped back. “As for you,” she added to the White Knight, “Sir Richard, what are you doing here? Where's White King Gene and White Queen Helen? I invited them to the game, and I think it's very rude of them to not even send an RSVP!”
Dickie easily slid off his horse, helmet in hand, and bowed low before Betty and Allen. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but they were unavoidably detained. This fiend,” he glared at the Red King, “placed The White Castle under siege. His Red Knights and their Jub Jub Birds and Mome Raths killed many White Knights. My sons and I are among the few survivors. We're here in search of my men. They came on ahead, but I don't see them anywhere.”
The Red King gave him that creepy chuckle. “You have quite an imagination, Sir Dawson. What would I be doing here if this fiction of yours was fact?”
She had to hand it to Dickie. He didn't even flinch when the Red King lifted his chin with his scepter. “Trying to keep Wonderland out of your hands.”
“It's not in his hands!” Betty stroked her flamingo's feathers, her voice matching its squawk. “We're in charge of Wonderland! All ways here are our way!”
Allen gave her a squeeze. “Of course, dear. Now, why don't we just continue with our game?” He moved aside for Richard. “You can go next, Sir Dawson.”
Bill the White Rabbit pushed between them at this point, holding a tray filled with strawberry pastries. “Tarts, miss?” He did a double take before screaming in her ear. “Yiiiiiii! It's you! You're the monster! But how...how did you shrink? Where did you go? You just disappeared from my house! Which is a mess, thanks to you! The furniture is all over the place, and the tops of my carrots are broken...”
Brett put a hand over his mouth. “Bill, get it through your head. I'm not a monster.” She handed him his fan and gloves. “By the way, you lost these. And watch it with that fan. I nearly fanned myself out of existence a while back!”
“Oh, that fan is very important.” He tucked the items in his pocket. “Sometimes, I go up to the surface, and they don't like rabbits up there who are my size. I just fan myself, and I look like a regular rabbit. I kind of forgot to do it when I was up last time. My mind was just so much on the Queen, and not getting my muchness taken away or sent to Limbo and eaten by the Jabberwock...”
“Bill, enough.” She took a pastry and bit into it. It...wasn't bad, surprisingly. Her Betty couldn't boil water without burning it. “Hey, these are good! What are they called, anyway?”
“Those are strawberry tarts.” Bill beamed with pride. “The King makes them for the Queen with love, and graciously shares them with royalty and special guests like you. He does everything for the Queen with love. He loves her more than anything.”
“Oooh, those tarts!” Drool ran down the Knave's sharp chin as he took one. “Best in the kingdom! No one makes better tarts than King Allen.” He exchanged a sly look with the Red King, then smirked. “You know, it would be a shame if someone stole the rest of these wonderful tarts clean away! What about you, Sir Dawson?”
Richard bit into a tart, grinning ear to ear as the jam ran down his chin. “We didn't have food like this in the Chess Army, let me tell you that! These are amazing! I wouldn't mind having two more right now.”
“Sorry, your Knight-ness.” Bill quickly moved the tray from his grabbing fingers. “We have to share with everyone, and the Queen will want some for herself later.”
“In that case,” Richard said smoothly as he bowed before him, “I volunteer my services to guard the tarts, so no jackanapes get ideas of stealing them before your Queen can have a taste.”
Allen nodded thoughtfully. “I like that idea, Sir Dawson. It would be wonderful to have someone reliable keep an eye on the tarts until we're ready to eat the rest.”
“You can count on me, Your Majesty. Me and my young squires.” Richard grabbed his boys before they could reach for the tarts and nudged them in front of the table.
The moment the Queen went to take her turn, Brett turned to Richard. “Dickie,” she whispered quickly, “the Card Guard's in the dungeon, or basement, or whatever. The Queen caught them painting roses. You're lucky Allen talked her out of beheading them.” She rubbed her neck. “I'm lucky my boys and me convinced her not to behead us!”
“Why do you think I took this job? 'Tis not the tarts I seek.” Richard frowned, his eyes furrowing in concern. “I must release them and find the Red Knight. He's nowhere to be seen. It's a rare day when he isn't trailing his master.”
Brett then caught a flash of dirty scarlet metal hiding in the bushes. “I think I can handle the Red Knight, Dickie...Sir Dawson...if you and the boys keep an eye on the Queen and Red King.”
“But Mom...” David started, wide-eyed.
“No buts, kid.” She tossed her flamingo in his arms. “You two stay with Sir Dawson. I'm going after your father.”
She caught up with Jack trying to keep out of sight in the closely clipped hedges. He just blew one of the pink flowers off his nose when she bent over his shoulder. “Hi there, hon. Enjoying the view?”
“You!” It was almost comical to see her ex-husband leap out of the bushes like that in his heavy armor. He must have jumped six miles. “How did you get away from me? You're supposet'a be my prisoners! You and the kids! The boss just about had my head in a jar for lettin' you escape!”
“What are you doing here, spying?”
“My boss wants to figure out what Shorty's doin'. He's got somethin' real big planned for gettin’ that jerk out of the way.”
Brett arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He smirked right back. “And I ain't tellin' you what. I don't tell stuff to prisoners. So there!”
Being this close to him was really starting to get to her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were making out on that bench in Central Park in 1959. “Jack,” she gasped, “why are you going along with him? The Red King's an asshole. All he cares about are rules, rules, rules.”
His craggy face twisted into a surprising anguish. “Lady, you don't know what he does. What he can do to your head when he gets in there. I gotta do it. I just...it ain't want to. I gotta.”
Brett could barely focus with that familiar scent of dirt, oil, and the Schlitz beer and pepperoni pizza he had for dinner last night on his breath. “Jack...I can't...” Her resolve cracked like the tiny spiderwebs of fissures in the walls behind her as he stroked her cheek. “Jack...this isn't right...we're not...married anymore...”
As Jack leaned in to kiss her, a purple light poofed over the flowering bushes in the garden. “I hope I'm interrupting something.”
“Lee?” Her disembodied head somehow floated over the bushes in the garden without a neck or anything else. “Where's the rest of you?”
She chuckled. “Not here, obviously.”
Brett turned to Jack...only to realize he was gone. “Jack? Jack?” She groaned. “Damn it to hell, he's gone! Did you have to show up when you did? I wanted to find out what the Red King's doing now.”
“Oh, I know that.” The Catwoman chuckled. “He wants Wonderland, so all of the Underground Worlds will follow his rules.” She raised an eyebrow as youthful laughter came up from some naughty joke of Dickie's. “I take it you found your sons?”
“Yes, thank you.” Brett sighed. “Now we need to figure out how to get home. That damn Red King seems to have everyone over a barrel. I'm worried what he'll do if he finds out we're not from around here.”
“I don't think he can do much.” Her toothpaste smile widened as the Red King's smooth tenor drifted over the garden walls. “He tries so hard to charm the Queen, but he'll never get to her. The only things she loves are her husband, her animals, and her garden, in that order.”
“Yeah, I've noticed.” Brett winced as Betty's foghorn voice demanding yet another beheading carried over the hedges. “Honestly, I'm almost starting to wish the Queen would obey whatever the Red King's damn rules are. This game is ridiculous! If she keeps taking everyone's heads off, there won't be anyone left to play croquet!”
Brett wished she were better at modulating her voice and listening when people sneaked up on her. “What did you say, Miss Brett?” Betty asked as she walked over with Allen on her arm.
“Oh, I just mentioned how we shouldn't bother playing,” Brett added quickly. “You're so likely to win that it seems pointless.”
That got her. Betty preened and fluffed her hair. “Well, thank you. I do practice often.”
Allen raised an eyebrow at Lee's disembodied head. “Who...or what..is that?”
Brett shrugged. “Friend of mine, sort of. Cheshire Catwoman,” she nodded at the King, “meet King Allen and Queen Betty. Royals, meet the Catwoman.”
“How do you do?” The Catwoman managed to look down at them with her unsettling wide white grin. “It's nice to meet you, Your Majesties.”
“I'd say, 'you may kiss my hand,'” the King began before the Queen glared at him, “but I'm not sure I like the way it's looking at us.”
Betty made a face. “I know I don't like it. White Knight! Sir Richard!” She screamed. “Off with its head!”
Richard and the boys suddenly materialized at her side. The four boys' hands and lips were sticky with strawberry jam. She'd give her sons a mild scolding for eating tarts that didn't belong to them later. “What do you wish of us, Your Majesty?” Dickie bowed before them before coming up...and giving the Catwoman his own wide grin when their eyes met. “And who is this charming feline?”
That unsettling cat smile grew even wider as their eyes met. “You can call me the Cheshire Catwoman, Sir Dawson, or anything your heart desires.”
“You can call me yours.”
Betty cleared her throat before the obvious flirting could continue. “Sir Dawson, I want you to take her head off!”
“Why? Has she done something wrong?”
“Don't mind her, Sir Dawson.” The Catwoman purred as her dark eyes roved up and down his trim tanned figure. “That's her way of dealing with everything. She wouldn't know what to do with herself if she wasn't giving orders.”
“Mom,” David smirked as she tugged him away, “the cat lady is really cute. She reminds me of the Catwoman on Batman. She's got those...”
“David Klugman!” Brett glared at him when he waved his hands to indicate certain parts of the female anatomy. “You do not refer to a lady that way!”
She winced when the sneer he gave her looked suspiciously like her own. “You're just jealous. You don't have nearly as much on top as she does!”
Gary, Dickie's younger boy, frowned. “Nearly as much of what?”
Brett grabbed his and Adam’s hands and led them rather roughly away. “Nothing you need to know about right now.”
“Looks like the game's nearly over.” The Red King chuckled, strolling by her side. “The Queen won this round, of course, but I'll win the next one. I always do.”
“Oh yeah?” David snapped. “How do you figure that, man? Can you tell the future?”
The Red King quirked a pale eyebrow. “I always win, child. I'm the King. We play by my rules.”
Her oldest son distinctly resembled a young black bear about to strike. “Stop calling me a child! I'm 18!”
“That doesn't mean you win all the time,” Brett grumbled as she firmly took Dave by the shoulder. “Someone ought to give you a few rules. You're always going on about rules, but what about the rules you live by? Who's giving you orders?”
The Red King's boyish cheeks flushed the same shade of blood crimson as his expertly tailored suit. “None of your business.”
“Mom's going to be a queen, you know!” Adam was almost the same size as the Red King and shot him the hardest glare a 14-year-old could manage. “Queen Betty said so!”
“Yeah!” Mark Dawson added heatedly. “And I'll bet Miss Brett will be a much better ruler than you ever were!”
“And Dad,” Gary piped in, “would make a much better king! He knows how to get people to do things without ordering them around or turning them into mushrooms or something!”
The Red King narrowed his eyes at all of them. “Children,” he swerved to Adam, “and young men, should be seen, not heard.”
“Why?” Brett smirked and threw her hands on her hips. “Because they're smarter than you? What are you afraid of? That Betty won't suddenly do everything your way?”
She didn't even flinch when the King leaned into her face, his eyes boring red hot coals, even as he gave her his creepy slasher smile. “I'm never afraid. But perhaps, you are. Or you will be.”
Brett didn't like the look in his eyes. Maybe it was her, but she felt a sudden chill in the warm afternoon air. Even as she subdued her shivering, she drew on her days in live television to keep her composure. “We'll see about that, pal. I'm not scared of you, and you know it.”
“Do you think you'll be able to lean on my Red Knight to save you? Or that meddling White Knight?” He nodded at Richard ignoring Betty trying to get him to take Lee's head off to flirt outrageously with the comely cat woman.
“No one needs to save me, or my sons. I rescue myself, pal.” Brett crossed her arms stubbornly and glared at him until he finally moved on to the Knave near the Tarts.
Mark pointed at the grounds. “Miss Brett, the Red King is right about one thing. The game's over, I think.” The cards all vanished. All that remained were her hedgehog and the queen's, who took part in a squeaky brawl by the rose bushes. The flamingos searched for lunch in one of the small ponds on the edge of the garden. “I think we should get Dad and find out what the Red King has planned.”
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