The two roads lead to one little bungalow, not far removed from Bill the White Rabbit's with red and yellow stripes instead of the pink bunny decor. Two familiar figures strolled out of the door and stood before them. The first was a short man with thinning black hair, a thick black mustache, heavy mobile eyebrows, and a cigar. The woman next to him was taller, with wide heavily-lashed eyes and a serene look under her thick coppery bangs. They wore matching shocking pink floral shirts with ties of the same prints, lemon yellow pants, striped socks, and loafers.
“Are you sure they’re for real?” David poked the man. “They look like the clowns we saw in the Ringling Brothers circus at the Los Angeles Coliseum.”
David jumped back when the little guy opened his mouth. “If you think you're waxworks, kid, you ought to pay, you know.”
“Contrarywise,” the redhead added in a nasal honk, “if you think we can move, you oughta speak to us. We don't appreciate the poking.”
“Yeah,” the black-haired guy went on, “it's not polite to poke.”
Brett sighed. “I don't believe this.” She just had to check their collars. Sure enough, just like Alice noticed in Through the Looking Glass, the woman had “Dee” embroidered on her left collar, and the man had “Dum” on his right one. “Patti and Donald, what in the heck are you two doing here?”
“Waitin' for him.” Donald Dum waved his cigar at Richard. “What took you so long, Sir Rich? You were supposed to jump to this block later n' sooner.”
“We were unavoidably detained.” Richard made a face. “Made the mistake of being on the train when it jumped into the next square, and we've had several unpleasant encounters with the Red King.”
“Oh, him.” Patti shrugged. “He doesn't usually have much to do with us. I guess we're too friendly for him.”
“Yeah. He doesn't like anyone who says 'how do you do and shake hands.' Makes him cranky.” Donald flicked the ashes from his cigar in Brett's general direction. “Who's the old lady?”
Brett glared, but Richard put up a hand. “Mistress Brett wishes to become queen, and her sons princes. The rest of us are aiding them in their quest.”
“Gary the Doormouse and I are looking for a friend of ours.” Orson made a cup of tea appear from thin air and gulped it nervously. “Sorry, it helps me think. My partner Charles the Hatter vanished after the Red King didn't like his speech back in Wonderland. We're trying to figure out how to get him out of Limbo.”
Patti shuddered as Don turned paper white. “Oooh, we don't have nothin' to do with that place. Limbo...that's where the Red King gets all his monsters from. He sends them to attack you and mess up your hair and scare the little blue men away.”
“Ya know,” Donald added, “instead of talkin' about that, how about we all introduce ourselves?” He grabbed Brett's hand and nearly shook her to the ground. “The best way to do that is to say 'how do ya do and shake hands.”
They all started shaking each other's hands, or grabbing hands and shaking the person, or just grabbing hands. “This is fun!” Jimmie grabbed Bill and started swinging him around. “Hey, come on, bunny dude, let's cut a little grass and do the Funky Chicken!”
Richard and Orson went into “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush.” She joined in, then Jimmie, then the boys and Bill and Marcia. They all grabbed hands and bounced around with the closest person at hand. She ended up with Adam and Marcia before they all fell down, breathless with laughter.
“That was great!” Adam gasped. “Do you guys know the Hustle?”
“Never heard of that song.” Donald helped Patti to her feet. “But we do know some poetry. Who wants to hear 'The Walrus and the Carpenter?”
“I don't know.” Brett made a face. “That poem is so long, and it gets kind of depressing. The walrus and the carpenter were awful! They tricked those poor little things, then ate them down to the last shell.”
“Yeah!” Mark made a face. “Could we talk about something else? Like how we're going to get to the White Castle from here. What's our next move?”
Richard was the first to stand. “Mistress Dee and Master Dum, we really must be moving along. What's the best method of getting into the White Castle? That's where we'll be jumping to next. White King Gene and Queen Helen will offer us sanctuary until Brett and her sons can make their next move.”
“Besides,” Marcia added, looking up, “those black clouds look like rain to me.”
Bill the White Rabbit gazed where she was looking. “I think that one cloud kind of looks like an elephant.”
“That's not what I mean!” She shivered and tried to pull her dress over her shoulders again. “I think we should make our way to the White Castle, before it pours and we're all soaked.”
Patti opened an umbrella and spread it over herself and Donald. “Well, it's not going to rain in here nohow!”
David made a face. “But it could rain outside, guys!”
Donald flicked the ashes from his cigar. “It may, if it chooses. Contrariwise, we've no objection. Right, dear?”
“No...” Patti started to say before her gaze fell on a small white object under one of the trees. “Mistress,” she gasped, ducking out from under the umbrella and grabbing Brett's wrist, “do you see that?”
Richard leaned under the tree and poked at the object. “It's a rattle,” he told them, “quite old and broken. I don't see why you're making so much fuss over an old rattle.”
“But it's not an old rattle!” Patti wailed. “It was brand new just yesterday! Someone spoiled my new rattle!”
“Well, don't look at me, darling,” Donald seemed to have the idea he could close the umbrella with him still in it and the wind whipping around them. It ended with him on the ground and somehow wrapped up in the umbrella's spokes. “I didn't even know you had a new rattle.”
“You know darn well I bought it yesterday!” Patti scolded. “Why didn't you take better care of it, dear?”
Brett started backing away. “Maybe we ought to leave you two to your little domestic quarrel. Besides,” she added as the wind whipped her curls into her eyes, “it's really howling now. We should get inside.”
“No, I need your help!” Patti yanked her into the woods. “Help me make my armor and prepare for battle!”
“Well, if she's going to battle,” Donald added from somewhere under the umbrella, “I am, too. Hey Rich, would you help me...”
Brett and Marcia helped Patti find things for her “armor” in the woods while Richard and Jimmie untangled Donald. Brett couldn't help thinking this was pretty silly, especially given the weather was getting worse. Heavy black clouds raged overhead and the wind whipped into a frenzy as Patti and Donald ran over with armfuls of string, blankets, baskets, old tires, broken pots, tarnished spoons, and rusted springs.
“Patti,” Brett began as she placed a cooking pot on her head, “I really think this is a bit much over a rattle. You look less like a warrior and more like a bundle of rags.”
“It's not just the rattle,” Patti might have said under the blankets and springs tied around her waist. “It's the principle of the thing. He shouldn't have broken something that belonged to me.”
“Can we skip all this?” Bill the White Rabbit wailed. “It's gonna storm any minute! Those black clouds are practically on top of us.”
Orson handed around cups of tea. Brett didn't want to ask where he got them from. “You folks have your battle. We'll just watch the show.” The Doormouse lay his head on his shoulder.
Patti ignored them. “Do I look really pale?” she fussed.
“Well,” Brett admitted gently, “maybe a little.” She looked over her shoulder. “Are you boys ready?”
“Yes,” Richard snarked, “Donald might be able to waddle over.”
“Now wait a minute!” Donald barely waved an arm under old tires and spoons. “I can move just fine. I just can't...” He nearly pitched forward as Richard caught him “...fall over.”
David pulled his jacket back on as thunder boomed overhead. “Mom, maybe we ought to forget all this! I think the storm's here!”
His brother scanned the skies. “But I don't feel rain or see any lightning!”
“We ought to get started,” Patti insisted. She started hitting her husband with a spoon, but she didn't hit him very hard. Likewise, Donald tried jabbing her with his umbrella, but with all the padding, it barely dented her.
Jimmie managed to fly to the top of the tree. “Cats, I think we'd better let these two sweat it out and make for the hills, if you know what I mean!” he yelped when he fluttered down. “That ain't no storm up there!”
“Jimmie's right!” Richard shouted, pressing his sons behind him. “That's no storm! It's a raven!”
Orson yanked the Doormouse to his feet as he scanned the skies. “And isn't that the Red King on its back?”
Not only was it the Red King, who managed to keep every hair in place despite the wind, but he was followed by an army of nasty-looking birds with sharp teeth and razor-like feathers that more closely resembled armor. She made a face when she saw Jack come in on his horse from the bushes, scaring Patti and Donald back to the clearing.
“Nice entrance, dear,” she hollered at her ex-husband over the roaring wind. “Can't you ever go anywhere without sounding like three buffalo stampedes?”
He lifted his dingy red visor and glared at him. “Ok, so I'm noisy. What's it to ya, lady?”
The Raven itself was enormous, with shining black feathers and a beak long enough to tear a man apart in its jaws. “Yes, my pet,” the Red King purred as he stroked its head, “I see some of our subjects are behaving quite badly here.” He raised his scepter at Patti and Donald, who quaked with fear as they backed up against the trees. “Fighting over a rattle? Such a trifle! I think we could use some new bookends, don't you, Red Knight?”
Jack grabbed Brett's arm and tried to reach for Adam, but he nimbly ducked out of his father's reach. “Sure, boss. Whatever you say. Just let me get these kids for ya...”
“Dad, what are you doing?” David's frosty glare resembled his mother's at her most haughty. “Let Mom go, and tell your jerk boss to knock it off. Those guys didn't do anything worse than fight over something stupid!”
“It's not stupid!” Patti protested. “I paid good money for that rattle!”
Donald rolled his eyes. “Well, why didn't you tell me that? We could have repaired it together!”
“That's enough.” The Red King sighed, rolled his eyes, and pointed his scepter at them. “Since you two are so fond of the silly things, I think that's what you should be.” The light from the ball on the end of the Red King's golden stick smacked hard into the cowering duo under the tree. When the light faded after a few moments, it left a pair of broken rattles in matching striped colors.
“Oh my goodness,” Bill wailed as he dove behind Marcia, “look what he did! He did that! He could do that to us! We have to get home. I left the iron running in my other pants, and...” Marcia grabbed his cottontail before he could hop away.
“That was completely unnecessary, Red King.” Richard pulled out his sword. “Restore those two at once!”
“Not at all. They weren't playing the game correctly. Not to mention, they got on my nerves.” He held his scepter at Richard. “Perhaps it's time to eliminate another problem...”
Richard leaped out of the way, just missing the light. “Dad!” Mark and his brother barreled right at the Red King, swords raised and faces red as cherries. “Don't you dare turn him into a rattle!”
They distracted the King enough for him to nearly fall off his horse. “Come on!” Brett heard a gentle voice calling from over the din. “This way! Oh, blast it, my shawl!”
That was when Brett noticed the white crocheted shawl fluttering in from the woods. “Hello?” She managed to snatch it out of the breezes and follow where the voice was. “I have your shawl!”
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