Alice in Tartland

Chapter 1 - The Caterpiller Bites

The Queen was in her parlour making bread and honey.
‘I spent three hours making them there tarts. Jack is a bottomless pit. No Manners!! Shouldn’t’ve ‘ad ‘im.

pages 3 - 7

Alice had found her self watching though it was wrong of her to do so.
What is a tart? Thought Alice.
Something to do with jam. Red sticky jam. Jam always reminded her of congealed blood. The duchess informed her that her dress held a secret meaning – that it was up for grabs. Just at that moment Alice noticed that the wind was about and that the rabbit was looking up her dress.



The duchess had said that pockets were to put things in or for imagining putting things in. Alice gazed at her pockets. She slid her hand into one of them and felt the threaded texture of the cotton. The warp and the weft as she had learnt. The tufts of fabric seams and the dust that felted between the tufts each time the pockets were washed. Then she slid her hand back out. Really she could not think what the Duchess was about. Sometimes she put lollies in her pockets. They would roll to and fro along the seam. Sometimes dust gathered in the crease, even after washing there would be a matted sliver of dust. If you forgot about your lollies they might end up with this dust attached to them which became like fur on your tongue if you hadn’t looked hard before you put them in your mouth.



“What kind of establishment is this. Hair in that one already! Don’t get hair in my cup, oh look there’s a . . . don’t worry he’s as dead as a dormouse please.

Alice was unsure. Well hair did find its way everywhere no matter how hard it was trimmed back and the dormouse was still alive. It was hard to read whether people were joking with her or for her – in which case she didn’t understand – or whether they were being deadly serious and she didn’t understand. Anyway the man with the hat on his head was looking at her legs and she regretted wearing the stockings with the seam down the back. After work the staff always finished off the undrunk bottles of wine.


Oh dear thought Alice what sort of a drink me was that and is a white puffed sleeves dress really suitable for breastfeeding six pigs with wings. She remembered what the Duchess had said about a white dress and thought to remove it. Her legs blushed.


Hurry up said the white rabbit. I have 9 other females to visit today.

pages 8 - 12

She noticed that the rabbit was white so what did that mean about him.
Alice was dismayed and indignant all at once. “Who designed this dress she thundered!!”


When she felt small
she could see the undersides of things she only saw the top of before.


Then along came three power walkers with blonde hair and satiny alice blue headbands. They had yellow tracksuits and clenched fists but they didn’t mean it.
(Married women thought Alice and with the decency not to look up.)



They were glamorous wearing push-up bras even though they already had husbands with jobs. (What’s that about?) At least they weren’t wearing white.


Alice was told never to touch the delicate undersides of mushrooms. That’s where the spores are. Don’t even think about it Alice. It was incredible that nature could make such thin velvety slices and sit them so neatly in formation. It was a circle shape. The circular spots on the tops of the mushrooms signified the poison underneath. The poison in the flesh if you ate it. Colour in nature also signifies poison, the Duchess had once said this in one of her tirades. That you shouldn’t eat anything brightly coloured really. Not even the jaffas on top of cupcakes. Alice’s thoughts had strayed to the lipsticks and the lip glosses with flavours in them strawberry, peach. They were fun to wear but not bright. The brighter colours were for older girls.

pages 13- 17

One million Labium.


Can I touch your puffed sleeves?
The violence of the caterpillar alarmed her but at the same time it was like being in a movie and she was the star.


The hairs on Alice’s arms stood on end. She didn’t know if it was fear or something else.

Now she really needed to get it off. But couldn’t be rid of the voluminous blue satin.


I shall not be able to sleep tonight thought Alice, unless I can take off this blue dress. At the same time she thought she must get things into proportion. It was a hot night though and the fabric was sticky with sweat. She had to peel it off her legs but it would go no further. She was encased in a cocoon. She must get things into proportion for her bottom half had grown being almost a creature all by itself.


It was another t-party and the grown-ups were carrying on again as if no-one was listening. They were in a circular conversation that washed around a familiar dish only this time Alice’s iniquities were included.

“that young girl has had three children all to different fathers!”

“I found marijuana in my son’s sock drawer”

“What is the world coming to, it gets worse every year”

“They say sodomy’s on the rise!”

“Alice had put buttons on the front of her dress!”

pages 18 - 22

“When we were young we didn’t need sex and drugs and we still enjoyed ourselves.”

The Duchess had told Alice what buttons mean but Alice didn’t know that everybody knew. She thought that only some people knew about the secret code, since hardly anybody ever spoke of it, though it seemed that everybody used it unconsciously.
Am I that transparent she thought. Yes Alice you are transparent. You are standing in their cups of tea and they are still talking about you. They think your shadow is an ominous sign of rain or significant of the general malaise of deteriorating society.


Its far too easy for the tarts. No-one blinks an eye when they don’t have a dress on. She didn’t want to be disgusted (what a great word!) She knew she should cheer them on but she hated them. Beside that they always looked so pleased with themselves and so self-assured. They seemed not to have ever met the Duchess or were oblivious of having been the subject of conversations. Perhaps they knew it all but enjoyed it.


Pram tarts were the worst. The babies cried out as evidence.
“My mother’s not a virgin!!”
The mothers dressed as if they needed to procreate immediately event though it was obvious that they were still breastfeeding. The period of lying –in completely and unceremoniously abandoned.


Can I touch your puffed sleeves?


What would happen thought Alice if I was inside the caterpillar and the caterpillar was inside me?

pages 23 - 27

What are you thinking Alice!
Alice thought that perhaps her thoughts might be written on her forehead so she had better thought something else quickly. She wrung her hands. As the lump went down her throat, her peter pan collar began to strangle her as if it was an idea that she should not have swallowed. Had someone been feeding her bad ideas?


The Queen was in an off mood. A black swathe of weeping underneath her heartening robes. “Why is it that I’m in such a foul mood everytime someone looks at me. I can’t help it. It is the time of the month for running into cars and ripping people’s heads off.


Then suddenly Alice remembered why she hated all the tarts that had ever existed. At a school camp they had upset her very badly.
“We dare Alice to kiss Jack!”
If Jack had really loved her he wouldn’t have crawled over towards her making grunting noises with his eyes ready to roll out of his sockets and into her pockets. They all laughed merrily because he wasn’t good at English and could always act the fool.


She had dashed into the dark night leaving a trail of tears that no-one followed. And now here she was doing it again because the caterpillar had asked her to take off the blue dress and when she replied that she had tried but she couldn’t he laughed and left.
He laughed and left.


“Twenty cups of tea will fix anything “ said the March Hare.
List
Glasses
Stakes
Book

Morals for every occasion. Even Florence Caulfield Hewlett could not solve her dilemmas.
ASTRAKHAN COLLARS AND CUFFS, To repair.
BLANKETS: to remove teas stains from.
BOOTS AND SHOES, BROWN, to blacken.
BREAD, STALE, to use for.
BUTTONS, PEARL, to preserve when mangled.
FUR, WHITE, To keep in summer.
MUSTARD, value of.
RUGS, to keep flat at edges,
SATIN, BLACK, to renovate.
ANKLES WEAK, BILLIOUS ATTACK, FRECKLES, To remove.

pages 28 - 32

Boo Hoo Hoo
Boo Hoo Hoo
It took me hours to make those tarts, pinching all their little edgings, boiling up the jam as it frothed and settled, frothed and settled. Mixing and rolling and cutting the pastry into little rounds that sit just so in the tart tray. Oh the cheek of him, silently strolling in when my back is turned, and he just flogs them willy nilly and gobbles them up without not one thought for the work I’ve done!


One day Alice met her old school friend Rennay. (Alices’ mouth opened noticeably wide in surprise)
“Rennay – what’s happened . . . . You’ve become a tart!
“Got along a bit with Jack I did”
“Yes but you didn’t have to become a tart!’
“’S Automatic once you sleep with him, didn’t you know his mother’s the Queen of tarts”
“No I thought she was the Queen of . . . .. But surely he could at least marry you with all those babies” ( Rennay had behind her a gaggle of children all falling about each other)
“What’s the point of getting married, I’ve already got all the babies I need. You only get married to ‘ave babies.”

Alice wondered what she could do to help. Maybe we could pick some fruit and I could make some jam or preserves for your babies.
“Got all the jam I need love.”

“How many babies have you got Rennay”, asked Alice looking down for they seemed to be everywhere.
“ 18” said Rennay
“ Eighteen!” said Alice, that’s a lot. . .”
“One for each go at it”, said Rennay.
“You get a baby each time!” started Alice, visibly appalled.
“Yep” said Rennay, suddenly looking doubtful.
“Is it worth it?” enquired Alice
“Small price to pay for a baby” said Rennay.

There was a moment when they had to look around a bit to each gather their thoughts because they had not seen each other for so long it was difficult to make conversation, that with the gentle clamour of 18 babies.

“Anyway why are you still wearing that puffed sleeved dress”, asked Rennay, drawn to pick at Alice’s sleeve.
“It looks fit for a five year old. You must’ve had it 18 years.”
“Yes”, said Alice, “I’ve been wearing it 18 years and I can’t get it off.”
Then it dawned on Alice that Rennay was 18 and she had 18 children!

“the Queen of hearts . . . .” Alice began because she was curious . . .
“It’s all a big front!” blurted Rennay, “It’s just a great big tart factory – they plan to take over the world!”

“It’s all a big front!” Rennay said again, as if the first time she may have been speaking only to herself. “And another thing, Jack is not really her son!”
“Not her son!” exclaimed Alice, willing to join in.
“No, he’s her lover”.
“ Her lover . . . I thought he was your lover!”
“He is the lover of lovers and she keeps him in the castle as her ‘son’ so no-one will know and so he’s handy like.”
“But what about the king, surely he knows? He’s no dimwit. Not a clue?”

Could this be true ? thought Alice


Could this be true?
Some things were true. Some things were not what they seemed and somethings that you thought could not possibly be true because you hadn’t even thought them, were true simply because no-one could think them up. But Rennay had thought this AND also said it.


It’s just a bureaucratic bungle. The people I judge aren’t even real. Their crimes are so petty, I don’t know why I have to waste my time. I cut off all their heads and still nobody notices! The bugger who stole my tarts has still not been apprehended.

pages 33 -37

Guilty of . . . . . walking on living grass, not recycling properly,
not having a matching set of crockery,
having sideburns and long fingernails.


I thought I’d give Rennay a break from her children and took her out for afternoon tea,
but she just started stripping off and dancing on the table.


“You cannot change a tiger’s stripes!” said the Duchess.


I thought I may as well get married.
May as welln’t I?

We were married by the guinea pig Rufus, who though being shy had managed to avoid being suppressed by running very fast whenever anybody spoke. We had a silent ceremony until we had to say the “I dos” and then we turned around to see that he was not there anymore.


Taking advice from the rabbits
I procreated.

pages 38 - 42

She conceived 856 offspring within wedlock.
Her puffed sleeves grew bigger than ever and she still could not take her dress off. She was advised to trim her hair for the births but it grew back immediately. Like one of those dolls.


Dustmites in the sheets! Sponges not sterilized!
Four children were not placed on the control crying regime!
Not looking after yourself!
Letting yourself go !


She was very respectable, though she didn’t want to be. Though having so many children makes it obvious where you’ve laid your eggs. She didn’t really feel up to wearing white anymore.


What was the deal with white rabbits?
Who did they think they were fooling?


Alice remembered the cup who refused to have tea poured into it. Stains!
The cup and matching pot sat on a shelf together for years very still.

pages 43- 47

When Alice was
a tea-pot,
she poured.
Pour pour Alice.

Hot tears
Over a hot face
Soaked up by
the white linen
tablecloth

Sometimes Alice
Would sit and look at each stain
Remembering each
Tear-soaked afternoon.


Puffed sleeves never helped anyone work out what to make 856 children for tea. Tuna mornay again?


And the moral of that is . . . .
Always get take-away!
The duchess always kept a sea of remarks up her sleeves.


In the garden Alice met Sinthea who was looking quite perky with matching twin daughter (all three were matching). Alice had tried for a pair of those and had been rewarded with a pair of unmatching guinea pigs.
Alice knew by Sinthea’s beautiful smile that
Alice looked to Sinthea like the tart that
Alice had always wanted to be.


“It was lovely to see you,” lied Sinthea. They swapped addresses, they would never use, but would leave regretfully folded up in the bottoms of their handbags to torment their consciences for years afterwards.
(Alice and Sinthea were peas in a pod)

pages 48 - 52

She had landed upside down like a beetle. Her little mushroom legs kicking in the air but not prevailing. The rabbit saw it as the opportune moment that he had been waiting for.


Amongst the shopping, burping and feeding, washing up and hanging out the rabbit had been and gone. The thousand labium had opened up and spores were popping into the air. Alice had locked herself into the pantry. Even in that still airless room, she could feel the air between each of her fingers. The cavity beneath her ribs was hollowed out with even more hunger and her bottom half throbbed. She watched the dust motes float in the sunshine that spoked through the slats.

Dips, tissues, crackers, coconut, milk, corned beef, mince, lasagna pasta,
She was a warm muffin of sponge freshly doused in the dripping chocolate icing and was rolling around in the slatternly coconut. Come back and eat me, she called.


Am I taking the mouse out to make tea or am I putting it in to take mouse tea? “Now where was I?” said Alice aloud to herself. She had to speak out loud and clearly to arrange her thoughts and to put one foot in front of the other. Her hair swathed thick around her so that she would not see or hear the children.


If I was a rabbit, I wouldn’t worry about being late. Nor would I eat grass. I would eat Alice, thought Alice.


Where was she and where had she put the children?