Mad Hatter (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} hattermadness) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} mirage_rpg,@ 2008-08-11 22:49:00 |
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| Entry tags: | cheshire cat, complete, day 10, mad hatter |
W H O :: hatter // cheshire cat
W H E N :: 7.30
W H A T :: he doesn't like parties
W H E R E :: the theatre
R A T I N G :: g
S T A T U S :: complete
The Hatter disliked large parties. As far as he was concerned such things should be limited to a few, and those should be invited properly not by papers strewn about walls willy-nilly. Still, he did look in on the gathering, peering in with distaste at the sheer numbers of people, and not a single teapot to be seen. Then he promptly turned on his heel and stalked in the other direction, throwing open the first door he reached with unnecessary gusto, sending it smashing into the wall hard enough to make a sizable BANG and stick in place. The Wonderland native peered inside this room suspiciously as well, taking a few slow steps forward at the sight.
The floor sloped downwards, lined with seats along either side of the aisle, with a large stage at the end of it complete with drawn red velvet curtains. Oh, he had no idea what he could do with such a stage, but he liked it all the same. Moving towards it, the door left open behind him, he imagined a number of fantastical things that could be behind the heavy curtains. Reaching them he strode across the stage to push aside the hanging velvet, finding quite a bit of what he imagined behind it.
Soon he had a old time phonograph pulled out, playing a record of what sounded like decidedly creepy carnival tunes. He nudged an ornately crafted dark wooden chair, and matching red upholstery. Hatter stood in front of both for a moment, looking out of place as usual. His clothes strayed close to times of old. The long ORANGE coat was lined with forest green, dark gray pants with a thin line of green and a second of orange racing down the sides, black shoes the tamest thing on him, starkly different from the violent purple dress shirt beneath his coat, and the old green hat was much like his first complete with ticket reading 10/6 sticking out.
I saw an aged aged man, A-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said, "And HOW is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head, Like water through a sieve.
He said "I look for butterflies, That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies, And sell them in the street."
Hatter sang, spinning his cane around, and rather missing the insane children that used to dance around his old stage. Their madness, laughing and screaming, and sometimes doing both, and almost never knowing why. Perhaps he'd find some to take their place later. He would have to put on a show. Perhaps that Joker fellow would help. His gaze flitted across the seats, wondering briefly if it would be hard to fasten one's guest's arms to the chairs, as he found it extremely rude to get up during a show and would not allow for the possibility.