The Mad Tea Party

Just a quick little story that parallels Alice In Wonderland. Hopefully, a simple, fun, little read.

Abagail flipped through her planner again, but still could not find the directions.  She was already running late, and to top that off, her pantyhose had a run in them, and her hair was disheveled from her tumble through the rose bush in the park.  In her haste to move out of the way of the bike messenger, she dropped her planner.  She made it, though she had to become a lttle too intimately acquainted with the rose bush to do it.   Her planner had not.  Without missing a beat, the messenger had flattened her planner, breaking the rings and loosening the papers.   If that wasn't already enough, a strong breeze came up and spread her papers across the park like confetti.  And, of course, it was morning, so, naturally, the grass was wet, which in turn, had transformed some of her most invaluable documents into nothing more than 2nd grade crafting medium.

 

"What a perfect first impression I'm going to make." she thought. 

 

It wasn't really fair.  Abagail was a great planner.  She'd left in more than enough time to get to her destination in an impressive display of punctuality.   And she was crafty.  Used to things not going her way, she became quite the adept improviser.  Yet, however capable she could prove to be, she could not overcome every obsticle.  Omnipotence was a power reserved for God, and God alone.  She was a mere mortal, however, making this one of those times with slightly bigger obsticles for which she was ill-preppared. 

 

She continued down the quaint little mainstreet doing her best to flip through the mess that was now her planner, disheartened, but still moving.  It was then that the aromatic smell of both coffee and tea surronded her, causing her to look up.  A warm cup of coffee might be nice, she thought.  It would give her a minute to straighten up and regroup.  She followed the aroma down a little alley tucked away between the buildings to a quaint and inviting little coffee shop. 

 

Upon entering, she was greeted with a fresh burst of warm, conforting, coffee aroma, and cozy coffeehouse colors.  Dark, but not gloomy.  The couches looked inviting.  She walked over to the barista, put her stack of planner on the counter, and then plopped her purse on top. 

 

"What can I get for you?"

 

"Oh," she smiled, still digging through her purse, "I'll have... um...well, let me see..."

 

"Try the bergamot." Offered a disembodied voice.

 

Abagail looked around, and on closer inspection saw that it came from the wearer of a beautiful burgandy velvet hat who was tucked cleverly away behind the back of an oversized loveseat.  If it wasn't for the gently swaying and bobbing of the hat, Abagail wouldn't have known there was anyone in that corner at all. 

 

"Yes, that sounds wonderful.  Thank you."  Her arm now elbow deep into her purse, Abagail had located her illusive wallet and fished it out.  She paid, shoved it back into the murky depths of her purse, and then began working on smoothing her hair, and straightening her clothes. 

 

"Oh, my dear!  You look as though you've had quite a morning!  Come, sit down and rest a minute." 

 

"Oh, why thank you!" said Abagail. 

 

Still straightening and now balancing her mess of papers and purse as well, she sat on the cozy, overstuffed chair opposite the woman in the velvet hat.  The hat was slightly oversized and kind of floppy, yet beautiful with it's lacey ornaments and feathers.  On further inspection, the woman, though not particularily remarkable at first glance, proved to be somewhat exquisite in the second glance.  Though under her eyes were slightly darkend and sunken cirlcles, her skin had even texture, and appeared smooth save for the few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that gave away hints of her age.  Her dress was also beautiful, though it was a little too simple for the hat she wore.  It was made of linen, and was a beautiful royal purple.  On her feet were laced white running shoes with laced trimmed socks that young girls often wore.  She sat across from Abagail, calmly reading the two day old paper through gold spectacles. 

 

Abagail, upon finishing what taming to herself she could do, smiled, and began fishing through her purse again.  After a minute or two, it was apparent that Abagail had not found what she'd been rumaging for. 

 

"Well, isn't that just the icing on the cake!" she said.

 

"What is, dear?"

 

Abagail looked up.  The woman smiled at Abagail.  The light from the window bounced of her spectacles, revealing a rather large crack in one of the lenses.  The other had a fingerprint smudge. 

 

"Oh." Abagail smiled.  "I can't find my spare pair of pantyhose.  I always carry them for instances such as this." she said, pointing to the shredded hose now hanging off her leg. 

 

"Oh, dear!" said the woman.  "Where you attacked?"

 

"Only by the rose bush in the park.  I tumbled into it to get out of the way of the bike messenger."

 

"Oh, that's horrible!  Did he even bother to look back and offer an apology?"

 

"Not even a glance."

 

"Well, isn't that the way of those messengers!  The nerve of them."

 

Abagail offered a smile.  "Well, my planner got the worst of it." motioning to her limp collection of paper pulp. 

 

"Oh, my!"

 

"No, it gets better.  I'm late for an appointment I've had set up for weeks.  I can't find the directions, not that I think they're even there in all this mess anymore.  I honestly don't know what I'm going to do." said Abagail.

 

"Well, one step at a time, my dear.  One step at a time."

 

The barista made his way over with a large cup of tea and placed it on the coffee table in front of Abagail. 

 

"And first, a cup of tea." said the woman. 

 

Abagail smiled and reached for her tea.

 

"Oh, just a second dear.  You have a smudge on your cheek.  Here, use this." And she handed Abagail a hankerchief. 

 

"So, dear, have you contacted your friends to tell them you'll be running late?"

 

"Not yet.  I'm still trying to find the number in all this mess." said Abagail, offering the hankerchief back. 

 

"Well, please do find that number, iit isn't polite to keep your guests waiting.  Oh, no, dear, you keep it.  You might need it." 

 

"Oh, thank you." said Abagail, though feeling a tad patronized.

 

"I'm sorry, my name is Abagail, Abagail Abernathy." and she reached out her hand.

 

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Abernathy.  My name is Queenie delaRouge."

 

"Pleased to meet you Ms. delaRouge, and please.  Call me Abagail." 

 

"Well, my dear, but we've only just met.  That's aweful forward of you.  Would you like some milk and sugar with your tea, dear?"

 

Abagail's jaw hung slightly, and only for a second.  "Oh, well, I suppose it could be veiwed as forward in certain circumstances.  I apologize.  And yes, I would love some milk and sugar."

 

"That's quite alright, dear.  Oh Barista!  Some milk and sugar, please." 

 

Ms. delaRouge flipped the page of her newspaper and continued her reading.  Abagail focused on her teacup.  She felt a slight flush in her face.  In the somewhat awkward silence, Abagail noticed the tv screens.  There were exactly 3 of them hung from the walls of the coffee shop.  Though turned down low, she noticed for the first time that the cartoon Alice in Wonderland was playing on every screen. 

 

"Curious." said Alice from the corner of the room. 

 

"Yes," thought Abagail.

 

The barista put a tray of sugar assortments and a small carafe of milk beside her cup.  She thanked the barista and poured the milk into her tea.

 

"Oh, GRACIOUS!" said Ms. delaRouge, and put her hand to her mouth. 

 

"What is it?" asked Abagail.

 

"Did you know that the power is out in the lower district?  I have friends there.  Oh, I hope they're alright..."

 

Abagail tried hard not to gawk.  "But the power is back on today, and has been since yesterday morning.  And that was two days ago."

 

"Now how could it be, since I'm only just reading about it today?  No, dear, this must be a new outtage.  Oh dear!"  

 

"I beg your pardon, Ms. delaRouge, but see the date on the paper?  There, in the corner?"

 

Ms. delaRouge looked at the date.  "Queenie, please.  Why yes.  It says it's Wednesday's paper. Oh, I must remember to go to the market today.  The fish is always the freshest in the direct middle of the week."

 

"Yes, er, Queenie, but today is Friday."

 

Queenie looked at her in what appeared to be a proud sort of discust. 

 

"You're not completely mad, are you dear?  See?  The paper says it's only Wednesday.  You're not suggesting that the paper would misprint such important information as the date are you?"

 

"Well, no, and it wasn't a misprint on Wednesday, but today is Friday."

 

Ms. delaRouge stared at her over her cracked golden spectacles. 

 

"Stubborn little thing, aren't you?  Well, perhaps you have something to prove what you say then?"

 

Abagail looked down on the remains of her planner.  On any other day, she would have had something in there that would have done the trick.  But again, this was not the day. 

 

"Now, now, my dear." said Ms. delaRouge.  "I see your frusteration, and you've had a very trying day already, bless your soul.  How about I order you another cup of tea, surely that one is cold by now.  Barista!  Another cup of tea, please...  You poor dear.  I know how hard it can be, really.  I've been in similar situations myself.  I'm older now, and have had a problem keeping dates straight and it started when I was your age.  But, I have a wonderful way of overcoming that.  You see, I always remember to check the paper.  Isn't that a wonderful idea! You may feel free to use my plan to overcome your own similar delima.  In fact, I believe I can be a wonderful help to you.  People in our condition need to stick together dear." 

 

Abagail sat completely dumbfounded.  Her jaw hung slack, her eyes bulged. 

 

"Close your mouth, dear, you'll attract flies." said Ms. delaRouge.

 

The barista placed a fresh cup of tea in front of Abagail and removed the old one.  Abagail snatched up the milk and slopped it into the cup. 

 

"Oh, dear!  Look, you've gotten yourself upset.  Remember to breathe dear."

 

Abagail was very close to fuming, and her quickened breaths showed it. 

 

"Yes, dear, just like that.  Nice, quick little breaths.   Poor dear, it's such a shame you didn't meet me sooner in your life.  I could have helped you to overcome your emotional difficulties sooner.  You wouldn't have gotten upset and lost your way to that appointment today.  Oh dear, perhaps you don't know."

 

"Know what, Ms. delaRouge?" Abagail nearly spat.

 

"Oh bless your soul!  Didn't you realize there was something wrong with you?  You have a problem.  An emotional and mental difficulty.  But don't worry about that, I'm here now.  I'm here to help you.  And I have friends that can help you."

 

Abagail, ripped a sugar substitute open and dumped it into her tea.  She stirred it forcefully and raised it to her lips. 

 

"Oh no, dear, you can't drink that!"  Ms. delaRouge arranged her glasses to get a better look. 

 "Why there's a crack in the cup, look, just there!" 

 

Abagail looked at the cup.  It was a brilliantly smooth, flawless, cup.

 

"Maybe it only appears that there is a crack in the cup because of your cracked glasses!" and she slammed down the cup.  As she shot out of her seat, she knocked her purse and frazzled papers to the ground. 

 

"Ladies, please, there's no need for all of this, really."

 

It came from a gentlemen who was sitting at the corner table across the room.  He walked over and kneeled to help gather up Abagail's things. 

 

"I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have lost my temper." said Abagail. "I've just had a tough day and I just..."

"It's all right, my dear.  We all have bad days.  Poor Ms. delaRouge has the toughest of all."  he offered. 

 

Abagail met the man's eyes and smiled. 

 

"Poor woman, I suppose she does."

 

"Yes, but she's a tough old bird." he said, offering Abagail her things. "No, I'm more concerned about you.  I have a great therapist, let me give you his card." and he fumbled through his pant pockets, finally pulling off his shoe, producing the card. 

 

Abagail could feel herself begin to sway a little.  In the background, Alice announced

 

"But I don't want to go among mad people!"

 

"Oh, you can't help that..." said the Cheshire Cat.  "We're all mad here." 

 

Abagail looked at the barista, licking the towel and wiping out the cups before placing them back on

the shelves. 

 

"You may have noticed, I'm not all here myself...." and the Cheshire cat faded away to nothing more than a smile.

 

Author's Note

I really didn't know where else to put this for the time being. I wrote it on the fly, edited very little. I really don't have much invested in this story. It's just a short story excercise, if you will. Feel free to point out any errors, as always.

Reviews

[Fantasyfairy]

I'm really not sure hat to say to this. It is a very strange story. Was she really crazy? Or was Queenie? Very confusing story, but still well written. XX