She walked ahead with Bulldog and grabbed herself a small stepper, specially designed for her to stand up whenever she wished to reach something that was supposed to be out of reach. The Queen was slightly shorter than most queens.
She stood upon it and stretched her hands, pulling the bowl down. This time, she didn't need to dip her hand inside. She had these bowls previously marked with a yellow marker from inside, so she'd know when the level of nuts dipped below the mark. This was her perfectly planned trap for her nasty guards and footmen who were tall enough to get the nuts—if they had really sneaked into the chamber.
"Hmm..." The Queen's face reddened again. "So there
Alice's Adventures Underground
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
In the middle of the corridor, the angry Queen stood with clenched hands and stiffened feet, about to burst into tears like a child. Her shoulders were hunched but stiffened. Her hair thin and uncombed. Bulldog beside her had his tail clutched between his legs. The Queen's wrath wasn't to be underestimated.
"Something isn't right." She gasped again. "This can't be. The guards couldn't have entered and nibbled on my nuts." It briefly occurred to her that she sounded like the evil witch from Hansel and Gretel.
"So who's been nibbling on my nuts!" she screamed again from the top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the chamber. "
The anger showing on her face was gradually intensifying. It looked she could explode like a full-blown balloon.
The Queen's dog had no means to tuck his head inside his body like turtles did, or he would have not hesitated doing it now. The hair on his skin prickled like needles and pins.
Suddenly, the Queen's mobile phone rang.
Now she got really furious. Who dared to call her that late?
Trotting back to her room, anger spitting out of her ears, she wondered if anyone knew about her secret Facebook profile, but there was no way she'd really give it a thought now.
She picked up the phone and read the caller's name.
"It better be." The Queen sighed impatiently.
"I know this will sound inappropriate if I ask, but..." Margaret hesitated.
"I hate the word 'but,'" the Queen said.
"Are you missing any of your precious nuts, My Majesty?"
The Queen was silent, and her knees felt wobbly all of a sudden.
"I see," Margaret responded to the Queen's utter silence. "So someone's been stealing from your nuts again. And it's not the guards, I assume."
The Queen nodded. Now, fear wrapped itself around her skin like a pale ghost. Bulldog was really starting to worry. Suddenly, it seemed apparent who took her nuts. The same man who broke in many years ago.
"I am afraid he is." Margaret sighed. "And it doesn't look good. He stole the nuts to remind you he's back. It's a message. A threatening message. We have to get rid of him. We can't handle him, not this time."
"You promised me last week's killings would be the last of Wonderland's nonsense," the Quern retorted. "I can't allow this in my country."
"I know. Don't worry. We'll contain the matter."
"Then do something about it!" The Queen's hands shivered. "Kill him. Do anything. Make sure I never see the Muffin Man again!"
Inside, I have to pass by Tom Truckle's office.
"Before I let you in, I want to ask you something," Dr. Truckle says. He is eating his favorite mock turtle Soup, exclusively delivered from a famous restaurant called Fat Duck in London. Fat Duck is owned by one of the world's best cooks, Gorgon Ramstein. The restaurant is rumored to have stolen their amazing mock turtle soup from a Victorian kitchen in Oxford University's basement, supposedly the same kitchen that inspired Lewis Carroll's Mock Turtle character.
"And what would that be?" I ask flatly. He is mean, and he
"Who's Houdini?"
"Harry Houdini, the most famous American magician of all time. The escape artist who could escape a box chained and submerged under water." He seems offended by my ignorance.
"Ah, that Houdini." Lately, no historical figure matters much to me. I am now all fixated on Wonderland Monsters. Who's Houdini compared to the Cheshire, really? "No, I don't remember him talking about him. Why would the Pillar mention him?"
"To cut it short, do you know how he escapes and sneaks back into the asylum without my cameras ever catching him?" Dr. Truckle points at the many new surveillance cameras in his office. "I've researched the matter, and only found one incident in history that matches the Pillar's skills."
I smile. It's amusing how the Pillar gets on his nerves.
"It happened 1819 in New York's Hippodrome Theatre, wildly known as the Disappearing Elephant event."
"Why are you asking me about his?" I am too tired to deal with his paranoia now.