Mary Christof, Queen of Hearts

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Mirror, Mirror/The Queen of Hearts

Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard of such a rule at processions; “and besides, what would be the use of a procession,” thought she, “if people had all to lie down on their faces, so that they couldn’t see it?” So she stood where she was, and waited." -Alice in Wonderland


It was quite the...well, it would be eye-opening if it weren’t so painfully obvious from the getgo, really. We were both terrified of the Queen, and, what was ironically but altogether darkly hilarious about the whole reveal was that I’d blissfully lived in denial of that factoid until a single chat with her vanishing Cheshire cat-like familiar. His giggling set me off a bit. “Well,” he smirked and answered, “I showed you many ways to deal with Her Highness, and they seem to have all vanished...”

The pouting. The corroborating, the vindicating...I tried every freaking tactic known to young adults and presidential candidates ever and nothing worked. He had me, and by extension the prince screaming at St. V’s Fraternity House pegged. “Fine, so we need to learn more about her before we start visualizing her as a smothering, manipulative, or even “off with her head!” mercurial type of woman. So--what do we do? Wait to make a move? Because I’m fine with that...”

“Time, sweet Alice. Take it easy...” He then took it upon himself to jump onto the table, licking his paw for a moment idly. “It seems cliché, but where's the food around here?"

"In the fridge..."

Just do it, it's not going to bite you, I thought, staring at the parchment and the inkwell. You're humming The Hallelujah Chorus, for crying out loud. Besides, the prince is still young. You're his mentor...weaseling out now would stain him.

The cat comfortably disappeared before I could spy its limber body vanishing into the outdoors, snatching a handful of frozen Snickers. "Dammit."

"I'll always be here if you need anything, Alice..."

My memory seemed to be fading and fast. I had to remember what happened to me, how it happened to me, et cetera, write it down in the cleanliest way I could and wait for a carrier pigeon to whisk it off to God knew exactly where. A Canadian strip joint or a Scandinavian moose shooting farm, to be cynical.


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