Thankfully, considering she knew nothing about the area, it wasn't hard to find the mushroom Jimmie described. It stood taller than any of the other mushrooms growing out of the moss and tall grasses in the swamp. Green and purple trees with graceful curved limbs draped with Spanish moss gave the area the look of a fairy kingdom from one of her daughter's childhood storybooks.
To her surprise, the big red mushroom had windows on the front and a door in the stalk. Cigarettes, wicker baskets of mushrooms and herbs, and books of poetry filled the windowsills. The scent of incense and herbal remedies drifted out of the tiny chimney.
“Well, at least it looks inviting,” Brett murmured. “Kind of like a head shop in West LA.”
Her first impression when she stepped inside was the place was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. The cylindrical space was jammed with dusty books of poetry and philosophy on the twig shelves, fruity herbs hanging from ceilings and counters, and baskets of mushrooms on every surface. The caterpillars, birds, and random chipmunk resting on purple corduroy bean bag chairs all wore baggy floral blouses and neon pantsuits closer to the hippies on Sunset Boulevard than Victoriana, though a few of the birds sported lacy long-skirted sundresses.
“Hey there, lady mine,” the largest, darkest caterpillar slid behind the counter. “You sure are lookin' mighty fine.” She swore that the caterpillar, with his funky suit, slightly goofy grin, and black curly skin on top, looked a bit like “poet laureate” Nipsey Russell, a comedian and poet who often sat next to her on the show.
She made a face. “After falling down that hole and taking a salt bath, I'm not sure...” To her shock, when she looked down at herself, she now wore a fringed suede vest and hip hugging bell bottom trousers. Floral sleeves floated around her hands; a piece of suede rope held back her now-longer black and silver curls. “Ok, so I didn't know the hippie look worked for me. And Jack says my hips are getting too wide for these pants! What does he know?”
“Ma'am,” he drawled, “who are you?”
She made a face. That voice was entirely too familiar. “Nipsey, I thought you were out of town. You know darn well who I am!”
“I may, ma'am,” he went on in his slow Georgia tenor, “but who are you?”
“Honestly,” she sighed, “between the new outfit and what I've been through over the past few hours, I'm not sure anymore. Not to mention, there's everything going on with Jack. Nipsey, have you seen my boys around? I just want to find them and get out of here, before my Jack comes home and finds us gone.”
“Explain yourself, lady.”
“I wish I could!” Brett admitted. “I can't really explain myself, 'cause I'm not myself right now, see?”
Nipsey took a drag on...well, Brett hoped it was a cigarette, despite the sweet smell. “No, darlin', I don't see.”
“Look, Nipsey, I've been about three or four different sizes since I came down here,” she growled. “Maybe you're used to changing from a caterpillar into a cocoon, but I'm not. It's gonna be really weird when you start changing into a butterfly.”
He took a long drag on that cigarette. “I don't think it is, lady.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ok, I can see I won't get anywhere with you in this state. Have you seen Adam and David? They came down here right before I did, but I can't seem to find them anywhere.”
“Oh, yeah.” He tapped the cigarette out on an ashtray, ignoring her cough as the smoke curled around her. “Before I tell you, I want you to recite.”
Brett raised an eyebrow. “Recite what? I'm not the poet you are.”
“Whatever comes to mind.”
“Ok,” she muttered. “What can I remember from the original Alice book? Wish I finished it before I came down here.”
She started in on the “How doth the little crocodile” poem, or what she thought sounded like it, when he cut in. “Look, lady, that's not how it's done.”
“Oh yeah? Then tell me how you recite that poem, Langston Hughes?"
“I've read the book.” He stood with his cigarette, looking for all the world like he was a microphone short of being in Vegas. “Ahem. 'This is how you play the game, and playing it is quite a shame. The king commands your life, and he'll take it with magic and a knife. If you're gonna act like a bimbo, he'll toss your legs in Limbo.”
“Nipsey,” Brett shuddered, “I like it better when you're joking about what Nixon did a few years ago.” She made a face. “Ok, I recited. Have you seen my boys, or haven't you?”
He wrinkled his greenish-brown brow. “Yeah. Couple of human kids. One tall, one short, the tall one hasn't pupated yet and his voice cracks every five minutes? Yeah, I saw them. They were lookin' for you. 'Bout a half-hour ago, actually. They went into the forest after that crazy White Rabbit.”
“That's the good news.” She groaned and looked down at herself. “The bad news is, how in the hell will I find them at this size? They're taller than I am now, for heaven's sake! Six inches is a wretched height!”
He took another drag, glaring at her. “Lady, I don't see anything wrong with it. I'm exactly six inches. It's a perfect height.”
“Maybe it is for you,” Brett snapped. “But it's not for me! I'm not used to it!”
“You?” He blew that colored smoke in his face again. “Who are you?”
“Oh, forget it! Whatever you're taking is fogging your brain.” She stormed off, slamming the door after her.
“Hey!” He poked his head out the door. “Hey lady! Hey! Come back!”
She slowly turned around a few inches from the path into the woods. “What?”
“Keep your temper, man. You're ruining our good karma here.”
“Is that all?”
“You know,” he went on, “if you wanna control what height you are in this joint, I can help ya. One side will make you grow bigger, n' the other will shrink ya more.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Which side of what?”
He held out two baskets. “My mushroom, of course. I sell these to help the locals keep track of what size they are, but man, you're havin' so many problems with it, I'm givin' you a one-time-only free offer. The mushroom from one basket will make you grow taller, an' the other will make you grow shorter.”
“Yeah,” Brett asked as she took two large pieces of mushroom out of the baskets, “but which side is which?” When she looked up to ask Nipsey, he and the baskets vanished. “Nipsey? Hey, where did you go?” The mushroom no longer had doors or windows; it was just a polka-dot mushroom.
“Well,” she muttered as she bit into one mushroom. “Looks like the only way I'll figure this out is to try it.”
No sooner did she bite into a mushroom than her head somehow burst over the trees! “Whoa! Damn it, that's not what I wanted,” she yelped as her nose hit a cloud.
“Oh, my lord!” gasped a red wren with fluffy straight feathers and a familiar voice. “Snake! Snake up here!”
“Snake!” Brett yelped indignantly. “Do I look like a snake to you? I'm a human woman!”
“The very idea,” squawked the bird like she didn't hear, “raising five eggs all your life, only for snakes to pop up in the sky...”
“Lady, please,” Brett snapped, “calm down. I'm a human woman looking for her own fledglings. You wouldn't have seen two boys while flying, would you?”
She glared at her. “And I suppose they eat eggs too?”
“Well, we do,” she started carefully, “but that's not the point here. You're a mother. You understand how I feel...”
“SNAKE!” The bird shrieked again, buzzing around her head. “SNAKE!”
“And maybe you don't.” She managed to tug the other mushroom out of her pocket. “This must be the one that lowers you. Here I go!”
And...whoosh! When she opened her eyes and the world stopped spinning, she was back to her usual height. “Oh, thank god!” She hugged herself. “I'm never going to complain about being too tall or skinny ever again, or tease Marcia about it!”
The wren shrieked again, settling her eggs on a branch. “So,” she said calmly, as if she'd never screamed in Brett's ear, “you really are a human. Sorry about the mistake. What were you doing up there?”
“Trying to get back to my right size.” She eyed the bird as it settled on her shoulder. “Say, have you seen my boys? They should be their right sizes...unless they drank that bottle back in the hall, too.”
“Sorry,” she chirped rather bossily, “but I've been tending to my eggs all day.” Her voice dropped to a chirpy whisper as the patter of hoppity-hopping feet could be heard from the path. “Why don't you ask him?”
“Oh goodness,” groaned Bill Daily the White Rabbit as he hopped past them. “Where could I have put them? I must have them! I'll never get through the game without them! What will the Queen say? And what about the Red King? The Queen will have my head...and the Red King will have my muchness, or I'll be Jabberwocky food! I have to find them!”
The bird took off as he almost hopped straight into Brett. “Well..whoa!” He knocked her back a foot, leaving both of them breathless. “What in the...” He wiggled his pink nose and waggled a tiny paw in her face. “Carol! Carol, what are you doing here?”
“Carol?” Brett made a face. “Bill, are you confusing your roles again? I'm not your maid or secretary. Bob Newhart is at the Disney studio recording his voice for that mouse movie he's doing with Eva Gabor, and I look nothing like Marcia Wallace!”
“Carol!” he demanded, ignoring her protests, “go home and fetch my gloves and fan this instant! I just got my invitation to the Queen and King of Hearts' croquet game in the garden. I can't get there without them. Shoo! Shoo! Move along!” He managed to swat her elbow and shove her along before dashing in the opposite direction.
“Good gravy Marie!” Brett groaned. “This is getting ridiculous. I'll be taking orders from one of Betty's poodles or that furry mountain Dickie calls a St. Bernard next!”
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