August Writing Day 30
I sauntered up to the table, my thumbs hooked into my belt loops and I saw the Mad Hatter staring morosely at his watch as he dipped it into his tea cup.
“Still doesn’t work, huh?” I asked gently as I sat down at an unused place. The dormouse was fast asleep in his chair and the March Hare was nowhere to be seen.
“It’s the crumbs you know,” the Hatter said sadly. “He really shouldn’t have used the butter knife.”
“I know they play merry hell with the toaster sometimes,” I remarked, helping myself to bread and butter. I passed on the tea. I didn’t know who’d been in the teapot.
The Hatter nodded the looked at me closely. “Your hair wants cutting,” he told me.
I nodded. “I know. I’m growing it out. I’m going to be a Klingon for Halloween and I want to use my own hair.” I took a bite of my sandwich.
The Hatter nodded in turn. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” he asked me.
I closed my eyes in thought. “I believe I can find out the answer to that,” I told him firmly.
“Really?” the Hatter looked surprised, and then he slumped. “I’ve been asking for years and no one’s come up with an answer yet.” He sighed deeply. “I want a clean cup,” he muttered and moved down one place. I didn’t move and he seemed disappointed.
“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” he asked my hopefully.
“I have indeed,” I replied, popping the last bit of bread and butter in my mouth. The Hatter held his breath.
“A raven is like a writing desk because Poe wrote on both.” I shot him a triumphant glance.
His lips moved silently as he repeated what I’d said. His forehead wrinkled in thought. “I don’t get it,” he said plaintively.
I tsked sadly as I rose from the table. “All that time spent around boiling mercury I should think. Eats holes in your brain. You might want to take up macramé or something.”
As I walked away, I could see the Mad Hatter, once again dipping his watch into his tea cup, pondering the idea of a career change.
“Still doesn’t work, huh?” I asked gently as I sat down at an unused place. The dormouse was fast asleep in his chair and the March Hare was nowhere to be seen.
“It’s the crumbs you know,” the Hatter said sadly. “He really shouldn’t have used the butter knife.”
“I know they play merry hell with the toaster sometimes,” I remarked, helping myself to bread and butter. I passed on the tea. I didn’t know who’d been in the teapot.
The Hatter nodded the looked at me closely. “Your hair wants cutting,” he told me.
I nodded. “I know. I’m growing it out. I’m going to be a Klingon for Halloween and I want to use my own hair.” I took a bite of my sandwich.
The Hatter nodded in turn. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” he asked me.
I closed my eyes in thought. “I believe I can find out the answer to that,” I told him firmly.
“Really?” the Hatter looked surprised, and then he slumped. “I’ve been asking for years and no one’s come up with an answer yet.” He sighed deeply. “I want a clean cup,” he muttered and moved down one place. I didn’t move and he seemed disappointed.
“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” he asked my hopefully.
“I have indeed,” I replied, popping the last bit of bread and butter in my mouth. The Hatter held his breath.
“A raven is like a writing desk because Poe wrote on both.” I shot him a triumphant glance.
His lips moved silently as he repeated what I’d said. His forehead wrinkled in thought. “I don’t get it,” he said plaintively.
I tsked sadly as I rose from the table. “All that time spent around boiling mercury I should think. Eats holes in your brain. You might want to take up macramé or something.”
As I walked away, I could see the Mad Hatter, once again dipping his watch into his tea cup, pondering the idea of a career change.