Mad Hatter

It is a silly thing, time.

Time was a stubborn thing, ignoring me whenever I ask it to go back. I'd like to go back you see. We've almost run out of cups on the table. Whenever time feels that it's his turn for us to move, he squeals as loud as he can muster, informing us poor chaps that it's time to move on.

Sometimes, I've barely finished pouring my tea.

Sometime ago, I'm not entirely sure when, I argued with time, taking the pocket watch out of my jacket. I told time that he was being unfair, it's not right to jump on our group like it did. Practically marching us out of our seats to the next one. I do believe time ignored me, as the moment I uttered my very last complaint about his intrusion on our tea party he sounded again.

Time was a very stubborn thing.

Several seat changes later I confronted time again, it really was very rude of him to just ignore my complaints. I threatened to tell his boss, if he had one. I'm sure he would though, everyone has a boss. I barely remember my boss, he must have skipped through my memory and back out again, never to be seen again.

I do believe he lost his head. In the literal sense, of course.

I on the other hand, along with the march hare who never seemed to get tired of time, had been sitting on this table for so long I've lost track of time. Or maybe that's time's own doing. The Dormouse was sleeping again, small snorts came from it and although the hare and I had tried many a time to keep it awake in time for our tea party, it always shut it's eyes.

Perhaps that was also time's doing. Making the Dormouse sleep. I can't think what else it could be, no one would get tired of a tea party as grand as ours. The hare was rambling again, something about wanting to hear a story from the dormant dormouse. Ah! I just made a very interesting observation there. I bet time couldn't think of that!

Oh! How I wish time would be patient with me. All I wanted was to futter-wack, I hadn't been able to do that in so long. Perhaps I've lost my touch. Perhaps I can no longer futter-wack. I blamed time, not giving me a minute's peace to practice my beloved futter-wack. What if the queen of hearts came? What if she demanded I futter-wack the best I can or else it'll be off with my head. Perhaps there's no need to worry, I have, of course, already lost it. I do think that's correct. I'm never too sure any more, now that time is deciding to be so stubborn.

I decided that maybe time was just upset with how it was treated, or maybe it felt poorly. I'm sure some tea would do it good. I removed my watch from my pocket, telling time to brace itself as I lifted the teapot. After pouring an acceptable amount, the table cloth looking rather unpleasant, I looked at time. It still appeared to be angry at me, not wanting to work so that I could tell what day it was.

Nothing a bit of butter couldn't fix.