Melinda Duchamp: Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland

“I do. But I have responsibilities. A job. A boyfriend.”

“The quick one? Why would you want to go back to him?”

“Because I love him,” Alice said.

“I see. Well, I suppose you could ask Mock Turtle. He’s self-important, and far too eager, but he might set you on the right path.”

“Where do I find him?”

“Just click your heels together three-”

“You already used that joke,” Alice said, sighing dramatically.

“Oh. Truthfully, I don’t know where that bore is. But the Duchess does.” Cheshire pointed to the Duchess, who was walking away with the crowd.

“Thank you, Cheshire.”

“You’re welcome. Would you mind if I took just a few seconds of video of you bending over?”

Alice was about to refuse, but then she thought, why not? She bent over for Cheshire, wiggling her bottom, not embarrassed in the least bit. She even spread her cheeks and sang what she knew of the theme to Happy Days.

Cheshire immediately dropped his cell phone and began to abuse himself with reckless abandon. Part of Alice feared he’d actually tug it completely off. But rather than worry about that, she nodded a quick goodbye and went to the Duchess, who was waiting for her turn at play, twirling a croquet mallet in her hands.

“Duchess, do you know where the Mock Turtle is?” Alice asked.

“Hello, Alice. Splendid show you put on. I’m having another lipstick party tomorrow, if you’d like to attend.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but I do need to see Mock Turtle. I was told he might help me return home.”

“A possibility. But he might not assist you. I’m afraid he only cares about himself.”

“Please,” Alice said. “I’ve been here a long time. I’m sure my boyfriend is getting concerned.”

“Very well. Follow me.”

Alice followed.

“So what exactly is a Mock Turtle?” Alice asked the Duchess as they strolled through the woods. “Is it another dreadful pun?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Is he going to recite silly, pointless poetry to me?”

“Probably.”

“Is there any way to skip it?”

“On an ereader? It isn’t easy. See the clearing in the trees there? It leads to a beach. That’s where Mock Turtle lives. Good luck to you, Alice.”

The Duchess gave her a warm hug, and then left. Alice continued on through the clearing and saw a man standing next to a large body of water. At first glance, she thought it was Lewis. He had the same build, same features. But the face was different. Where Lewis had a sweet smile and beautiful eyes, Mock Turtle looked as if he’d just sniffed something unpleasant. From forty feet away, Alice could see his scowl. It was so disconcerting that she considered turning around and going back.

“Who goes there?” he yelled, spotting her.

Alice almost ran. But she didn’t. The old, frightened, unsure Alice would have. But she was the new bold, fearless Alice, who got what she wanted.

“I’m Alice. Are you Mock Turtle?”

“Who wants to know?”

Another lunatic. “Me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Alice.”

“Approach so I may look at you.”

Alice tromped across the beach, her sharp heels sinking into the stand, but she managed to reach the man without falling over.

“Those boots are hardly proper attire for the beach,” he said. “But they make your bottom and legs looked superb.”

“Are you Mock Turtle?”

“I am.”

“But you aren’t a turtle. You aren’t even a furry.”

“A what?”

“You aren’t wearing a turtle outfit.”

“What about my mock turtleneck sweater?” he asked.

“You aren’t wearing one.”

“But I have one, at my house. It’s blue.”

Alice folded her arms, becoming annoyed. “You’re called Mock Turtle because you sometimes wear a blue, mock turtleneck sweater?”

“No. Mock Turtle is my pen name. I’m a writer.”

Alice softened a bit. “Really? I love to read.”

“I’m a poet,” Mock Turtle said proudly.

“Oh.” Alice made a face. She should have known. “Poetry sucks.”

“Don’t disparage poetry. I shall make up a poem on the spot, about you, if you allow it.”

“How about I pay you twenty dollars not to?”

But it was too late. Mock Turtle began to recite.

Little Alice,

Stole a chalice,

Why’d she do it?

She won’t talice.

“Get it?” he asked. “Won’t talice? Tell-us?”

“It’s dreadful,” Alice said.

“Oh, I have worse than that,” said the Mock Turtle, and proceeded to prove it:

There was a girl named Susie,

Who drowned in a Jacuzzi,

She boiled like a potato,

And really tasted greato.

“If I had a gun, I’d eat it,” Alice said. “But I’d shoot you first.”

“Last one,” said Mock Turtle.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

Mock Turtle launched into it:

When I need reference media,

I go to Wikipedia,

A dictionary is too slow,

And Wiki is much speedia.

“Ugh,” Alice said. “I think I actually threw up in my mouth a little.”

“A poet’s job is to provoke emotion,” Mock Turtle said proudly.

“You actually make money writing things like that?”

“Not yet. So far the snobbish literary journals have refused to publish any of my work. Do you know why?”

“They have standards?”

“Envy!” Mock Turtle declared. “They can’t stand that I have this talent, flowing through my veins, like some poet with poetry talent in his blood.”

Wow, this guy was clueless.

“ I know a man named Nolan, who had a spastic colon- ”

“You promised no more!” Alice said, shoving Mock Turtle to shut him up. “I need to get home, and I was told that you could help me.”

“Help you get home?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Mock Turtle tapped a finger against his chin. “Well, I could help you, Alice. But I’d want something in return.”

Alice narrowed her eyes. “Is it to recite another poem? Because I’ll turn around right now.”

“No. But you are quite beautiful, and I also couldn’t help but notice, quite naked. If you allowed me to make love to you, I could show you how to get home.”

Alice didn’t find Mock Turtle attractive, he was much too sour, but she was a pro at pity sex, and if she had to appease him to get back home, it didn’t seem like such a bad proposition. Besides, he might actually surprise her and be amazing at making love, like the many people she’d encountered that day.

“Fine,” Alice said. “Where would you like to-”

In a flash, Mock Turtle’s pants were around his ankles, and he was franticly rubbing up against her, trying to kiss her neck.

“Uh! Uh! Uh!” he groaned.

“Hey!” Alice said. This scenario was disappointingly familiar. “Slow down and we can-”

But it was too late. Mock Turtle had spurted all over her thigh, without having even entered her.

“That was the most unsatisfying experience I’ve ever had,” Alice chided him. “And that’s saying something.”

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly looking at the ground. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful, and-”

“SEIZE HIM!”

Alice spun around and saw the Queen tromping down the beach toward them, surrounded by several guards. They immediately rushed at Mock Turtle, grabbing his arms.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing here?” Alice asked.

“The Duchess told me where you’d gone. This man has a seedy reputation, and as I’d suspected, my instincts proved correct.”

“What did I do?” Mock Turtle cried.