CHAPTER TWELVE
Malice and the Cat
The vision before Alice’s eyes shimmers, then suddenly she is gazing at a girl wearing a cat suit. It’s as if Alice is hovering slightly above and a short distance away from the girl. The girl is sitting on the ground, in what looks to be an outside area with wooden plank floors. There is a wall made of cobblestones to the right. There are two guillotines behind the girl. It looks a lot like the Queen’s execution area where she sends creatures off to be beheaded.
Alice gasps. “Oh! Why, it’s as if I’m floating above! Can she see me?”
The shadow answers, “No, she can’t. You are watching from afar. I can see all that you see, as well.”
“Is that Malice? At the Queen’s execution area?”
“Yes, she got the cat suit from the Queen of Heart’s tailor. It’s glamored to summon and charm the Cheshire Cat. And she’s going to use the catnip too. But I’m afraid I must go now, lest he suspect.”
“Lest who suspects?”
Alice sees the shadow appear next to Malice on the ground.
Catnip? They say it makes cats really amorous.
Alice observes Malice more. On the ground, next to scurrying rats, is a jar, a ball of yarn, and the pistol. The rats are surrounded by a circle of white chalky substance. Alice assumes it’s some of the Queen’s special rat poison—the rats, sensing it, would be forced to stay inside the circle.
Malice opens the jar, dips her hand into it, then smears some goopy substance onto her lips through the mask before shouting,
“Here kitty kitty!
Won’t you come out and play?
I’ve got some rats, I’ve got some yarn,
For you to swat today!”
Malice looks around hopefully for a few moments, but now her shoulders slump.
“Kitty kitty come out and play!
I’ve decided to shoot myself today!”
The head of the Cheshire Cat materializes in front of Malice. Just the head, as usual. Alice can only see the back of his head from her viewpoint.
Alice feels fright go through her. If Malice shoots herself, I’ll die too! She shouts “No!” but they don’t respond. “Shadow? Shadow stop her! Shadow come back!” None of it works, the shadow remains at Malice’s side, so all Alice can do is watch.
“Hello Alice,” the cat says to Malice. “My, that is a fetching outfit you have on today. You’d make such a pretty kitty. And what is that? Rats and yarn? Gifts for me?”
“Yes, to thank you for all your help.”
“My pleasure, kitten.”
Malice takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes.” She lifts the pistol, presses it to her temple. “Oh, but first, I’d like to request my customary kiss of death.”
The cat grunts in frustration. “What?”
“My kiss of death. Why it’s…customary! It’s only the polite thing to do.”
“Yes, yes,” says the cat. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? I daresay it sounds a proper right and fitting thing to do. Well, here goes.” The hovering cat head floats to shift to kiss her cheek.
Malice shouts, “Rudeness!”
“I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?”
“Of course you are. Have you never given a kiss of death before?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t.”
“Well it’s got to be on the mouth! Well?” She shakes the pistol as if to say, “I can’t hold this here all day.”
“Very well.” The cat floats and as far as Alice can tell from her viewpoint, they kiss for several seconds, before the cat head floats back.
The cat says, “Why, your lips are delicious.”
“Thank you. Well, here goes.”
Alice hopes she isn’t about to die as she watches.
Malice pulls the trigger. Alice winces.
But there is no bang. Only the click of the hammer.
Malice pouts cutely. “Gun no go boom.”
The cat shouts, “Outrageous! Is the gun broken? Did you fire its shot already?”
Malice shrugs. “Go ask Alice.” She points and it looks as if she’s pointing right at Alice.
Alice feels a twinge of fright, though her heart, of course, doesn’t begin to race.
The cat turns his head, and now Alice can see his face. He’s looking without focusing his eyes, his smile is gone. He now looks a bit sleepy, as if too tired to smile. “I don’t see her,” he says. While he’s looking, Malice goes onto all fours. The Cheshire Cat turns back around. “Alice?”
“No, sorry, she left. I’m just an itty bitty kitty, won’t you come out and play?”
“You are? You look like—”
“No! I’m an itty bitty kitty!” She purrs. Licks the back of her hand. “Who are you?”
“I’m the Cheshire Cat. I—I feel strange.”
“Won’t you come frolic with me? I’ve got yarn, pretty yarn, I’ve got rats for you today, so won’t you come out to play?”
Malice slaps sloppily with her “paw” at the scattering rats. She isn’t being serious she seems to be saying, as she grins big at him, tilts her head to the side. She pouts. “Why, where are your paws? Won’t you bring them out so we can play?”
Alice can no longer see the Cheshire Cat’s face, but his voice sounds slurry and slow. Was it from the catnip? He says, “I—I can’t. I—I can’t bring my body out, because the Queen wants to behead me. So I don’t want to pop my body onto my head, because if I don’t have a body I can’t be beheaded. I must be careful.”
Malice looks around. “I don’t see the Queenie Weenie. Come onnnn. Play with the yarn wif me.” She begins swatting the yarn back and forth.
“Ooh, I absolutely adore yarn!” He groans in exasperation. “It’s just that I only have one life left. The Queen took the other eight away. I can never let down my guard! She can be so sneaky.”
“Oh, poo!” She gives a megapout. “She’s not here. It’s just me, the rats, and a scaredy cat.”
“Awww come on. Don’t tease…”
“Here, just hold the yarn in your mouth then, if you aren’t gonna bring your claws out.”
She stoops and takes the ball of yarn in her mouth as if she’s a cat, then sashays up, offering to transfer the yarn to his mouth.
The Cheshire Cat’s head flits lightly forward, but Malice bounds a short distance away and sets the yarn down. “Nuh uh. If you want the yarn, you must give me a kiss.”
“Another kiss, didn’t I just give you one? Or didn’t I? I feel so confused.”
“You didn’t give me a kiss. Maybe you just wished you did.”
“I feel so strange, like I’m drunk. I’m forgetting things even from moment to moment. I’m sorry to be rude, but who are you again?”
“I’m a little kitty kitty.
Tell me, do you think I’m pretty?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“Would you like to kiss me? Don’t be shy.”
“Well—”
“I’ll only let you play with my yarn if you give me a kiss,” she says in a flirtatious, mock demanding voice.
“Ha ha! Very well! I shall do as the lady kitty commands.”
Malice lowers her head slightly as the Cheshire Cat approaches and gently kisses her.
“I say!” he exclaims. “Your lips are as sweet as catnip.”
Malice merely smiles then nudges the ball of yarn over to him with her nose.
“Oh my, that is most delectable yarn, the fibers, the most lustrous color. I can tell the craftsmanship in the weaving—it is most exquisite. Rarely have I seen such yarn.”
Malice purrs. “Let’s play with it together. Let me see your paws, my darling.”
“Oh, I can’t resist you, my darling kitty! Here! Here are my paws.” The rest of his body materializes. He sits on the ground, like a normal cat, as opposed to floating.
They begin to frolic and play. They bat the ball of yarn between them. Then the Cheshire Cat kills a few of the rats, while Malice pretends to swat at some of them—the Cheshi
re Cat offers the bloody rats to Malice as a gift and she accepts them while taking the opportunity to coax him into two more kisses.
Alice figures that if each kiss was laced with catnip, why the Cheshire Cat must be quite inebriated at this point.
Malice coaxes the Cheshire Cat in for another kiss, but just at the last second, she turns away, teasing, then bounds away.
From a distance away, she shouts, “I would very much like to marry you, Cheshire Cat. Do you think I’m being too forward?”
Alice notices that Malice is standing (in the way a four-legged cat stands) behind a block of wood with a semicircular indentation. Above the wood is suspended a silver blade. It’s a guillotine, she realizes.
The Cheshire Cat says, slurring a great deal, “No, no, my darling. No, I mean, yes. I’ve been wanting so much to say that. I mean, marry me, please. I’ve wanted to say it! Too afraid before. I was, I mean.”
“Come then,” Malice says, with an enchanting smile. “Prove you mean it. Seal it with a kiss.”
“I—I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right…”
“What? Do I have to pout?” She pouts. “Super Megapout? How about this? I call it my death pout.” And she unleashes a very grand example of an extreme form of pouting.
“Awww. I could never resist you, my darling Lenore. Yes, I want us to marry you. I mean, marry me.” He walks drunkenly toward her.
“Yes, come my darling.”
Unsteadily he approaches. She encourages, saying, “Yes, seal it with a kiss.” She puckers her lips.
He stops in front of the wooden block and stretches his neck over to kiss her.
While they kiss, Malice’s hands move, seeming to pull something—moments later, the blade of the guillotine falls, slicing the Cheshire Cat’s head off.
Arterial spray shoots out from his neck, drenching Malice as her lips are still puckered in a kissy face, and the Cheshire Cat’s head drops out of view.
Malice wipes the blood from her face while she grins. Her teeth are red with blood.
Now Alice’s view of the scene shuts off.