“A Wonderland Christmas Countdown”
“A Wonderland Christmas Countdown”
Day 1: Down the Chimney Hole
Day 2: The Candy Cane Cat’s Clue
Day 3: The Un-Christmas Tea Party
Day 4: The Ill-Tempered Guard
The path from the tea party was paved with red velvet ribbons and tiny, squashed bells, leading Alice toward the high, crimson walls of the Queen of Hearts’ castle. Above the battlements, Alice could see the frantic movement of card soldiers painting anything white that dared to appear.
The Hatter had said the broken clock was in the Royal Repository of Red Things. This structure was a small, aggressively square building attached to the castle, painted entirely in varying shades of maroon and scarlet.
Guarding the heavy, locked scarlet door was a figure Alice vaguely remembered, but now dressed in a highly uncomfortable-looking suit made of stiff, green holly leaves. It was one of the Tweedles, but she couldn’t tell if it was Dee or Dum.
He was polishing his brass helmet with intense concentration, muttering about symmetry.
“Excuse me,” said Alice. “I need to enter the Repository. I believe the Queen’s broken clock is inside.”
The Tweedle stopped polishing and looked at Alice with eyes that were narrowed with suspicion and frustration.
“You may not,” he stated flatly. “I am the Ill-Tempered Guard. My duty is to be symmetrical. Only those who are exactly alike, or exactly unalike, may pass.”
“But I am only one person,” said Alice.
“Precisely! You are not two, like my brother and me,” the Tweedle snapped. “And you are not three, like the Hatter, the Hare, and the Dormouse. Your singularity is asymmetrical. It is terribly unaesthetic. Go away.”
Alice pondered this. Symmetry in Wonderland was always a matter of nonsensical rules.
“Are you Tweedledee or Tweedledum?” she asked.
The guard swelled up like an angry toad. “That is irrelevant! The point is that I am waiting for my twin, who is currently locked in a terrible, asymmetrical argument over the proper way to fold a napkin into a swan versus a turkey.”
“Ah,” said Alice. “So you are one of two guards, guarding a Repository of Red Things. That is two things, guarding a collection of things. If I wanted to find the True Christmas Cracker, I would need a clue.”
The Tweedle’s frown deepened. “I am not allowed to give out clues. But I am allowed to make observations about the appalling lack of symmetry in your apparel.”
He pointed a finger at Alice’s shoes. “See! Your shoes are merely black. If they were both red, or one red and one green, that would be symmetrical. As it is, they are merely too small.”
Alice remembered the peculiar effects of food and drink in Wonderland.
“Wait,” she said. “Are you suggesting my size is incorrect?”
The Tweedle nodded emphatically. “Your size does not match the size of the keyhole. It is wholly wrong. Only something enormous can be asymmetrical and still pass by me. Or something infinitesimally small.”
He began polishing his helmet again, clearly dismissing her.
Alice realised the guard had just given her the next necessary step, hidden inside a complaint. She needed to change her size to access the keyhole, which was perhaps the clock itself.
But where would she find something to eat or drink that would alter her size? Alice looked around the grim, festive landscape. Her eyes fell on a bubbling, oddly-coloured puddle near the base of the wall, glistening with sugar and bright red droplets.
It was the Pool of Melting Mince Pies.
Day 5: The Pool of Melting Mince Pies
Alice looked at the bubbling, sugary liquid with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. The Pool of Melting Mince Pies shimmered with an unsettling crimson glow, and tiny currants bobbed on its surface like lost boats. It smelled overwhelmingly of cinnamon, nutmeg, and something faintly resembling confusion.
Remembering her past experiences with Wonderland’s peculiar edibles, Alice knew she had to be cautious. She dipped a finger into the pool. It was warm, sticky, and tasted surprisingly bland at first, then intensely spicy.
“Well,” she reasoned, “if I need to be either enormous or infinitesimally small, this must be the way. Perhaps a sip will suffice.”
She carefully cupped a small amount of the liquid in her hand and took a tiny sip.
Nothing happened immediately. Alice waited, feeling a prickle of impatience. Then, her shoes began to feel incredibly tight. Her dress seemed to be shrinking, or rather, she was growing. Rapidly.
“Oh dear,” she murmured, her voice sounding unexpectedly deep. She felt her head bump against the top of the Repository door. In moments, she was far too large to be an “infinitesimally small” Alice. She was gigantic, towering over the Tweedle Guard, who was now just a tiny, indignant figure far below.
The Tweedle, seeing her sudden growth, shrieked. “Asymmetrical! Terribly, monstrously asymmetrical! You are far too big! This is an outrage!” He ran off, muttering about reporting her to the Queen for disrupting the festive symmetry.
Alice, now colossal, found she could easily reach over the top of the Repository building. But she still couldn’t get inside. Being too large was just as unhelpful as being too small, especially for a keyhole.
“This won’t do at all,” she said, her voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I need to shrink again.”
She looked down at the Pool of Melting Mince Pies, which now looked like a mere puddle at her feet. She needed to counteract the growth. Perhaps another sip, but this time, from something else?
Alice scanned the landscape, her giant eyes taking in the absurd Christmas decorations. In the distance, she spotted a massive, gnarled tree, unlike the usual tinsel-draped ones. It was ancient and covered in glowing, peculiar mushrooms. And on one of the largest mushrooms sat a very familiar, very opinionated creature.
It was the Caterpillar, now even more imposingly large, slowly smoking a hookah that puffed out clouds of purple-and-green glitter instead of smoke. He was perched on a mushroom that looked uncannily like a giant, slightly charred Christmas Pudding.
Alice realised this was her next destination. The Caterpillar always knew about controlling size.
Day 6: The Caterpillar on the Christmas Pudding
Alice, feeling unwieldy and rather silly at her towering height, carefully picked her way toward the enormous tree where the Caterpillar sat. She had to take care not to trip over the strings of fairy lights that crisscrossed the forest floor like tangled fishing nets.
The Caterpillar, perched atop the enormous, steaming Christmas Pudding mushroom, took a long, slow draw from his glitter-puffing hookah. He did not seem surprised to see a giant girl approaching him. In fact, he looked mildly annoyed.
“Who… are you?” the Caterpillar asked, his voice slow and heavy, the glitter smoke forming little purple rings around his head.
“I am Alice, sir. And I need to know how to shrink back down to my proper size,” she explained, trying to keep her enormous hands from accidentally knocking the Christmas Pudding off its stalk.
The Caterpillar squinted at her. “Proper size? Who determines what size is proper? If you’re here about the Queen’s new decree, everything must be extravagant for Christmas. Perhaps you are the proper size for hanging the star on the top of the Nonsense Tree.”
“I assure you, I am only trying to get into the Royal Repository,” said Alice. “I drank from the Pool of Melting Mince Pies, and now I’m too big.”
“Mince Pies!” scoffed the Caterpillar. “Dreadful things. All that confusion. You should have stuck to the fungi. Now, pay attention.”
He pointed a segmented foot at the mushroom he was sitting on, which had a wide, dark band running around its middle, separating the pudding top from the stalk.
“One side of the Pudding, you see, makes you taller. The other, shorter. But since this is a Christmas Pudding, it is entirely infused with confusion. So, the rule is the opposite of the mushroom rule.”
Alice thought hard, recalling the rule of the original magic mushroom: eating one side made her grow, and the other made her shrink.
“So, if the rule is opposite, and I want to shrink,” Alice began, “I must eat the side that would ordinarily make me grow?”
The Caterpillar blew a perfect green ring of glitter-smoke that drifted right past Alice’s nose.
“Precisely. But which is which? Ah, that is the riddle of the plum. See the plums hidden within the pudding? The side with the most plums makes you smaller, and the side with the least plums makes you bigger. But be warned: eating too much will leave you stuck at a most inconvenient size.”
Alice looked closely at the pudding mushroom. On the left, it appeared dense and dark, with five tiny sugar-plums visible near the edge. On the right, it was lighter, and she could only spot one lonely plum.
To shrink, I need the side with the most plums, she decided. That’s the left side, the dense, dark one.
Alice carefully pinched off a small piece of the dark, plum-studded mushroom from the left side. It tasted heavily of brandy and burnt caramel.
As soon as she swallowed, she felt herself rapidly contracting. Her vast blue skirt seemed to rise around her like a collapsing tent. She shrank and shrank until she was not only her proper height, but even a little smaller than she had been before.
“There,” said the Caterpillar, observing her transformation with an air of mild triumph. “Now you are small enough to appreciate the appalling lack of symmetry in this season. Now, go and be useful. And whatever you do, do not confuse the plum rule with the normal mushroom rule, or you will be as stuck as the Hatter.”
Alice thanked the Caterpillar and hurried away, now perfectly sized to slip under the door, or perhaps through a keyhole, on Day 7.
Day 7: The Clock of Forgotten Time
Alice, now no taller than a large doll, made her way back to the Queen’s Repository of Red Things. The Tweedle Guard was nowhere in sight, likely still searching for symmetrical evidence of her prior gargantuan size.
The scarlet door was still locked, but Alice, now being “infinitesimally small” as the guard had suggested, easily slipped through the jagged opening of the keyhole.
She tumbled onto a floor made of highly polished, blood-red marble. The inside of the repository was just as crimson as the outside, filled with objects the Queen deemed necessary, valuable, or simply red. There were towers of unused playing cards, several stacks of velvet cushions, and three enormous pots of crimson paint.
Right in the centre of the room, on a small, unsteady pedestal, sat the object Alice was looking for: a beautiful, antique grandfather clock. It was brass and mahogany, but its face was painted an outrageous, glittering red.
The time displayed was perpetually stuck at 6:00.
Alice remembered the Dormouse’s mumbled words: “The clock struck 6:01 just as the King began his ridiculous speech… a minute has simply been forgot.”
If the clock had been stuck at 6:00, the minute that had been briefly un-stuck and then forgotten was indeed 6:01. This minute must be the clue.
Alice climbed onto the pedestal and examined the clock face. The hands were fixed solid. She tapped the glass.
“Now, how do I find a minute that’s been forgotten?” she whispered.
She noticed a tiny, almost invisible crack running vertically down the clock face, starting just above the number six. Following the crack with her eye, she saw it stopped directly beside the small space where the hand for one minute after the hour would point.
The crack was not a flaw; it was a slit.
Alice carefully pushed her tiny finger into the crack. The entire centre section of the clock face, from the six to the one-minute mark, swung inward like a miniature door, revealing a small, dark recess.
Inside the recess, suspended on a piece of bright red velvet, was not the True Christmas Cracker, but a small, gold-edged playing card. It was the Ace of Spades, but painted on it was a tiny image of a Christmas Pudding.
Beneath the Ace, in elegant script, was a clue written by the Cheshire Cat:
To find the Cracker, you must find the Plum. Not the plum that shrinks, but the one that makes sense. Seek the one that is Three and Whole, and not alone. Go where the Gardeners dare not make amends.
Alice immediately recognised the reference to the size-changing plums on the Caterpillar’s pudding. But which plum was the Cat talking about? And who were the gardeners who dared not make amends?
She knew that meant the Card Gardeners who were always painting the roses!
Day 8: The Gardeners’ Predicament
Alice, still quite small, slipped back out through the keyhole of the Royal Repository and hurried toward the Queen’s famous rose garden. She had to navigate carefully around the enormous feet of the marching card soldiers, who were still attempting to paint the roses in a confusing mix of Christmas colours.
The garden was a scene of utter festive chaos. Most of the roses were now a patchy, miserable blend of red, green, and white. The Card Gardeners, traditionally terrified of the Queen, looked even more despairing than usual.
Alice found the three gardeners who were responsible for the worst of the mess huddled miserably beside a bush that had been painted a sickly peppermint pink. They were the Two of Spades, the Five of Clubs, and the Seven of Diamonds.
“Oh, what are we to do?” wailed the Two of Spades. “The Queen says the roses must be painted Red and Green! We tried painting half the petals red and half green, but she said that was ‘asymmetrical treachery’ and threatened our heads!”
“And we tried painting them red, then waiting for the red paint to dry, then painting them green,” muttered the Five of Clubs, “but then they just look brown, and the Queen called that ‘unacceptable Christmas mud!’”
Alice held up the clue card she’d found inside the clock.
To find the Cracker, you must find the Plum. Not the plum that shrinks, but the one that makes sense. Seek the one that is Three and Whole, and not alone. Go where the Gardeners dare not make amends.
“I think I can help with your paint problem, and you can help me with a plum problem,” Alice suggested.
The Seven of Diamonds looked at her tiny form suspiciously. “You? Help us? You’re smaller than a thimble of paint!”
“The Queen demands Red and Green, correct? Why don’t you paint the tops of the petals Red and the undersides Green? She only ever looks at the top.”
The gardeners stared at each other. “Paint the… underside?” the Five of Clubs whispered. “That’s so logical! It’s wonderfully illogical!”
“Now, about my clue,” Alice continued. “It talks about a plum that is Three and Whole and not alone.”
The Two of Spades wiped his brow. “Plums, you say? Why, only one person here cares about plums. The Dormouse!”
“When the Dormouse is frightened, he always hides his most valuable possessions,” the Five of Clubs added. “He has a secret hiding spot he uses when he fears the Hatter will try to serve him as a side dish again. It’s always near a place where things are in threes.”
“The last time he was terribly frightened was when the Queen asked if he’d remembered to bring his Christmas list,” the Seven of Diamonds said. “He ran off towards the Three Singing Pine Cones near the edge of the forest. He said he needed to hide his most valuable sugar-plum before the Queen tried to tax it.”
Alice now understood. The Dormouse’s secret plum, hidden near the three cones, must hold the next clue.
“Thank you,” Alice said. “And I highly recommend you start painting the undersides of those roses immediately.”
Alice, feeling a fresh sense of purpose, raced out of the garden toward the whispering forest edge, searching for anything that resembled three singing cones.
Day 9: The Three Singing Pine Cones
Alice left the Queen’s garden, now running at her normal speed, and followed the whisper of strange, high-pitched music toward the edge of the dark Wonderland forest.
She soon located the source of the sound: three enormous pine cones, each painted with a tiny, terrified face, hanging from a low branch. They were swaying gently, singing a very complicated, slightly mournful Christmas carol in perfect, dreadful harmony.
“Silent night, frightful night, all is mad, all is light…” they sang.
Alice stopped beneath them, searching the ground. The Dormouse’s valuable sugar-plum was supposed to be hidden nearby.
“Excuse me,” Alice called up to the singing cones. “Have you seen the Dormouse hiding anything here recently?”
The First Pine Cone stopped singing, looking down at her with a painted eye. “Hiding? Certainly not! This is a public space for caroling, not clandestine storage!”
The Second Pine Cone sighed dramatically. “He said he was hiding the proof that he was a sugar-plum himself, not a mere piece of pudding. He said he needed three things to keep the secret whole.”
The Third Pine Cone chimed in, “He used his three most important possessions to mark the spot! A tiny, golden thimble, a fragment of a teacup, and the Queen’s missing croquet mallet!”
Alice looked at the base of the tree. Sure enough, arranged in a neat triangle around a small patch of moss, were the three items: a gleaming golden thimble, a fragment of porcelain with a painting of a hare on it, and a ridiculously small, frozen flamingo mallet.
Right in the centre of the triangle, nestled against the moss, Alice found it: a single, smooth, dark purple sugar-plum. It was whole, it was one of three items forming the triangle, and it was certainly not alone. The description fit the Cat’s clue exactly.
Cautiously, Alice picked up the plum. It felt strangely warm and pulsed with a faint, low light. It was too small to be a regular size-changing plum, but as she held it, the Dormouse’s voice, though distant, seemed to echo in her mind: “The plum is the key! The plum is the key!”
She realised the sugar-plum was hollow and twisted off the top. Inside, nestled in the plum’s cavity, was a tiny, rolled-up slip of paper. Alice carefully unrolled the paper.
It was another rhyme from the Cheshire Cat:
The Cracker rests where the paint is a lie, Near the hedge that is Twelve, but has no need to grow. Look to the Flurry that causes the sigh, Where the snowflakes fall fast, but never settle on snow.
Alice carefully placed the sugar-plum back in its hiding place, putting the thimble, teacup, and mallet back around it. She pondered the rhyme.
A hedge that is Twelve but has no need to grow could only be the famous Hedge of Card Guards that surrounded the Queen’s final croquet ground.
And the Flurry that causes the sigh? That sounded like a terrible argument over paperwork. She instantly thought of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
Day 10: The Flurry of Paperwork
Following the Queen’s castle walls, Alice soon heard sounds of shouting and paper rustling that drowned out even the dreadful singing of the pine cones. She found Tweedledee and Tweedledum exactly where she expected to find them: engaged in a monumental, highly complex argument.
They were standing in the middle of a vast, snowy clearing. The air was thick with flying paper scraps, as if a minor blizzard had erupted. This was the “Flurry that causes the sigh.”
Tweedledee, having abandoned his post as the Ill-Tempered Guard, was wearing a scarf made of old maps. He was pointing an accusing finger at a giant pile of white paper.
“I tell you, Dee! The proper Christmas snowflake must have six points! Six points are traditional! Your nine-pointed nonsense is a travesty! It lacks structural integrity!”
Tweedledum, wearing a hat covered in poorly glued-together paper stars, gestured wildly at the flurry of scraps floating around them.
“Nonsense, Dum! Six points are boring! And your cutting is uneven! My snowflakes cause a delightful sigh of frustration in all who must pick them up! They are perfectly asymmetrical and wonderfully pointless!”
Alice realized the paper flakes were the source of the Flurry mentioned in the Cat’s clue. She stepped carefully through the whirling scraps of paper, trying to find her objective.
Alice recited the clue: The Cracker rests where the paint is a lie, / Near the hedge that is Twelve, but has no need to grow.
She noticed that just beyond the quarreling Tweedles was a very high, perfectly manicured hedge. This was clearly the Hedge of Card Guards, painted to look like twelve identical standing playing cards. It was a card-hedge, which meant it had no need to grow.
The Cracker must be hidden near this hedge.
“Excuse me,” Alice interrupted, stepping between the fighting brothers. “Could you stop arguing about the number of points on a snowflake for just a minute? I need to look near the Card-Hedge for something hidden.”
The Tweedles immediately stopped fighting and stared at Alice.
“Hidden?” cried Tweedledum. “We are guarding it! The Queen ordered us to guard the approach to the Croquet Ground while arguing so fiercely that nobody would dare step through our defensive Flurry of Frustration!”
Tweedledee nodded sadly. “We were specifically ordered to guard the base of the hedge, where the twelve card figures meet the ground. She said a great truth was hidden beneath the greatest lie.”
Alice looked at the base of the Card-Hedge. The lie, she deduced, was the paint job. The card soldiers were supposed to be flat and two-dimensional, but the hedge itself, though trimmed flat, was three-dimensional.
Just at the feet of the first of the twelve card shapes, Alice noticed a small, slightly raised lump of turf. She knelt down and brushed away the loose snow and paper scraps.
Beneath the turf was a small, hinged wooden panel. Alice lifted it.
Inside, resting on a bed of dry moss, was a beautiful, small, True Christmas Cracker. It was golden, unlike the cheap ones popping everywhere, and tied with a neat bow.
“I’ve found it!” Alice exclaimed.
Before she could take it, the Cheshire Cat’s voice echoed from a nearby branch, visible only as a smile reflected in the golden wrapper.
“Ah, but finding it is only half the fun, dearie! To Open it, you need the Missing Half! The Queen demands a pair of hands to pull it, and the other half is required to keep it whole! You must bring it to the Yule Tide Trial on the twenty-fourth, or it shall simply burst into un-presents!”
A final scrap of paper drifted down from the tree. It was the Cat’s last, confusing clue:
To draw the Cracker and complete the deed, The Queen will demand a Hedgehog that can Read.
Alice sighed, holding the Cracker. She had to find the Hedgehog before Christmas Eve and the Yule Tide Trial.
Day 11: The Quest for the Reader Hedgehog
Alice carefully placed the golden True Christmas Cracker in the pocket of her dress. She now had the object itself, but she needed the Reader Hedgehog to complete the task at the Queen’s Yule Tide Trial.
A hedgehog, of course, was used as the ball in the Queen’s absurd game of croquet. But a hedgehog that could read? That was a new level of nonsense.
Alice turned to the two warring Tweedles, who were now engaged in a fierce wrestling match over a piece of wrapping paper.
“Dee! Dum! Where does one find a hedgehog that is capable of reading?” Alice asked, shouting over the sound of crumpling paper.
Tweedledum paused his wrestling to gasp for air. “A reader? That sounds dreadfully educated! Not the common, rolling-and-yelling sort of hedgehog, I assure you.”
Tweedledee scrambled free and dusted himself off. “The only educated animal in Wonderland is that dreadful Gryphon. He reads the Queen’s list of punishments and decrees. He often trains the flamingos and hedgehogs for the Trial, saying they must be ‘well-versed’ in the rules of the game.”
“He is usually found near the Mock Turtle, complaining about the lack of good seafood dishes for the Queen’s Christmas banquet,” added Tweedledum.
Alice thanked the brothers and set off in the direction of the sea, where she recalled the Mock Turtle and Gryphon often held their sad, maritime meetings.
The path soon led to a strange, marshy clearing. It wasn’t exactly seaside, but there was a distinct smell of brine and slightly damp cake. And sitting atop a rock covered in green, dripping seaweed, were the two creatures: the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle.
The Gryphon, who had a lion’s body and an eagle’s head, was wearing a tiny, embroidered apron. He was frantically flipping through a large recipe book, muttering to himself. The Mock Turtle, meanwhile, was weeping into a large bowl of what looked like solidified gelatin.
“It’s simply not fair!” the Mock Turtle sobbed, causing the gelatin to wobble perilously. “No one ever puts Seafood Christmas Pudding on the menu! It’s all Figgy Pudding and Mince Pies! It’s an outrage!”
Alice approached the Gryphon. “Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for a hedgehog that can read. Do you happen to know of one?”
The Gryphon slammed his recipe book shut, sending a puff of flour into the air.
“Read? Of course, I know him! That’s Mr. Prickles! Highly educated, very tedious fellow. He’s the only one who can read the complicated rules of the Yule Tide Trial without confusing a flamingo with a croquet hoop.”
“Where is he?” asked Alice eagerly.
The Gryphon sighed. “He’s hiding. He knows the Queen will make him the ball in the Croquet Game, and he despises being rolled. He has buried himself deep in the Cauliflower Forest, near the Walrus and the Carpenter’s Feast, where he thinks no one will find him. He took only his most prized possession: a tiny, laminated copy of the Trial Rules.”
“The Cauliflower Forest?” Alice repeated.
“Yes, the only place in Wonderland where vegetables grow in giant, unsettling, snow-white formations,” the Mock Turtle sniffed, dabbing his eyes with a clam shell. “Go quickly, before the Queen decides she wants to eat the forest itself!”
Day 12: The Cauliflower Forest and Mr. Prickles
Alice left the salty air of the Gryphon’s lament and entered a landscape of stark white. It was the Cauliflower Forest, where enormous, tightly packed cauliflower heads rose up like giant, unsettling snowdrifts, casting deep, bluish shadows. The air was cold and smelled faintly of cabbage.
Alice searched for anything that might indicate the location of the Walrus and the Carpenter’s Feast, which the Gryphon had mentioned.
She soon spotted a small, overturned boat decorated with strings of dried oysters and tinsel. Next to it was a table set with mismatched Christmas plates, though all the food was gone. A large, walrus-shaped figure was snoring loudly under a blanket of seaweed, and a grumpy-looking man in a carpenter’s apron was attempting to clean up the remnants of a disastrous banquet.
“Excuse me, sir,” Alice said to the Carpenter. “I’m looking for Mr. Prickles, the Reader Hedgehog. He’s supposed to be hiding here.”
The Carpenter sighed, tossing an empty plate into the boat. “That tedious quill-pusher? He burrowed in deep. Said he wasn’t going to be anyone’s ball for the Queen’s ridiculous game. He’s hiding under the Eighth Cauliflower Head from the East.”
“And why the eighth?” Alice asked.
“Because he’s educated! He said the number eight is the only number in the world that is perfectly symmetrical when turned sideways, and therefore the Queen’s guard would never think to look there, since they only look for vertical symmetry. Nonsense, of course.” The Carpenter shook his head. “The fellow thinks too much.”
Alice located the east side of the forest and carefully counted eight massive, snow-white cauliflower heads. The eighth one looked just like the others, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor at its base.
Alice knelt down. “Mr. Prickles? Are you there? I need your help with the True Christmas Cracker.”
A muffled, highly indignant voice squeaked from beneath the vegetable. “Go away! I refuse to be part of the Queen’s festive ball-game! I have a sensitive spine and an enormous reading list!”
“But you are the only one who can help me open the Cracker and potentially stop the Yule Tide Trial,” Alice persisted. “The Queen requires you to pull the Cracker on Christmas Eve.”
A tiny, round face with bright, worried eyes peered out from under the cauliflower stalk. It was Mr. Prickles, the hedgehog. He was holding a small, rolled-up, laminated parchment.
“She requires me?” he asked, his voice shaking. “But I can’t be rolled! It messes up my thoughts! And what if she tries to make me read the Un-Birthday Gift List?”
“She needs your ability to read the Trial Rules to make the Cracker work,” Alice explained, a little inventively. “It’s a very complicated Cracker, you see. If you help me, you won’t be the ball, you’ll be the Official Cracker Puller.”
Mr. Prickles nervously clutched his laminated rules. “Official Cracker Puller… that sounds far more respectable than Official Croquet Ball.” He slowly scuttled out from under the cauliflower. “Very well. I shall accompany you. But I must insist we stop for a quick review of the rules of Quadrille Croquet first. I cannot go into the final trial ill-prepared!”
Alice had found the Reader Hedgehog. She placed him safely in her dress pocket next to the True Christmas Cracker.
“Thank you, Mr. Prickles,” she said. “Now, where shall we go next to review those rules?”
Mr. Prickles immediately squeaked, “To the Pool of Tears, of course! It’s the only place quiet enough to concentrate. We must find a clear spot before the Flamingo Flurry begins.”
Day 13: The Review by the Pool of Tears
Alice carried Mr. Prickles and the True Christmas Cracker in her pocket, following the winding path to the familiar Pool of Tears. This time, it wasn’t a pool made of her own gigantic sorrows, but a small, icy lake, surrounded by weeping willow trees draped in strings of blue fairy lights. The water was currently frozen, making it quiet and still.
Mr. Prickles, however, refused to stay in Alice’s pocket. He insisted on setting up a makeshift classroom on a flat, frozen area of the lake.
“We must review the rules, Alice! Thoroughly!” the Reader Hedgehog squeaked, unrolling his laminated parchment of rules. He had found a small, twiggy branch to use as a pointer.
“Now, in the Queen’s Yule Tide Trial, there are three necessary objects that are entirely unsuitable for their purpose,” Mr. Prickles declared, tapping the parchment. “The Flamingo Mallet, the Hedgehog Ball—which I refuse to be—and the Playing Card Archway.”
Alice sat patiently on the icy bank. “Yes, they all seem very inconvenient.”
“Precisely! Inconvenience is the whole point! Rule 47 states: The Trial cannot begin until the Flamingo Mallet is frozen solid in the posture of a salute, the Hedgehog Ball is reading a poem, and the Playing Card Archways are arranged in the precise number of the Queen’s age.”
Alice leaned forward. “The number of the Queen’s age? Do you know her age?”
Mr. Prickles rolled his eyes. “No one knows her true age! Asking results in immediate decapitation! But the Mad Hatter claims it’s a number that is ‘perfectly prime but impossible to count.’ The Gryphon suggests it’s a number found ‘where the two roads diverge but only one path is taken.’”
This was frustratingly vague. Alice had another question, prompted by the mention of the mallets.
“Mr. Prickles, have you noticed if the flamingos are behaving any differently than usual? Are they moving?”
Mr. Prickles checked his notes. “Ah, yes! Rule 82, subsection C, concerning the Mallets! The Queen ordered the Card Gardeners to ensure all the flamingos were kept perfectly still until the Trial. They are currently locked in the Flamingo Flurry area.”
“The Flamingo Flurry?”
“It’s a holding pen, guarded by the March Hare, where the flamingos are forced to sing increasingly complicated rounds of carols until they are too dizzy to move,” the Hedgehog explained. “The Queen wants them dizzy but not frozen yet. We must assume they are still mobile.”
Mr. Prickles suddenly pointed his twig at Alice’s pocket. “Wait! The Cracker! If the Cracker can stop the Trial, it must contain something that makes the Queen happy, or something that makes her terribly angry.”
Alice pulled out the golden Cracker. It remained sealed.
“Do the rules say anything about a True Christmas Cracker?” Alice asked.
Mr. Prickles scanned his laminated sheet until his eye caught a small footnote. “Ah! Yes! Footnote 12: If a True Cracker is pulled, the resulting sound wave shall permanently Un-freeze the Flamingos, rendering them useless as mallets and halting the Trial.”
“So, if we pull it, the game stops!” Alice exclaimed.
“Yes! But only if the Cracker is pulled by the Reader Hedgehog and the Girl Who Knows Too Much,” Mr. Prickles finished, puffing out his chest with self-importance.
“Then we must pull it on Christmas Eve!” Alice decided. “But first, we must confirm the Queen’s age by finding the right archways.”
“That will require a trip to the Hedgehog’s Lair,” Mr. Prickles chirped. “Where the Queen stores the extra, confusingly-numbered card arches that don’t match the current set.”
Day 14: The Hedgehog’s Lair and the Croquet Arches
Mr. Prickles led Alice away from the Pool of Tears, insisting that the Hedgehog’s Lair was the most logically illogical place to store crucial information. They traveled past giant, decorative snow globes filled with glitter that drifted upward instead of down.
The Lair was not a hole in the ground, but a bizarre, semi-permanent shed located beneath a willow tree that wept crystallized sugar instead of water. The shed was made entirely of discarded croquet hoops and cardboard box scraps.
Inside, stacks of painted playing card arches lay in organized chaos. These were the arches used to form the croquet wickets, each one painted with a number: 1, 2, 3, and so on.
Mr. Prickles scrambled off Alice’s shoulder and scurried toward a pile of rejected arches in the corner. “The Queen always keeps the ones that are confusingly numbered here. The ones that only an educated creature would understand.”
He pointed his nose at two peculiar arches. One was painted with the number 19. The other was painted with the number 7.
Alice remembered the Gryphon’s clue about the Queen’s age: a number found “where the two roads diverge but only one path is taken.”
“The two roads diverging, where only one path is taken,” Alice mused. “That sounds like two options being presented, but only one being correct. What happens when you subtract the small number from the large one?”
“Nineteen minus seven is Twelve,” squeaked Mr. Prickles, quickly running the calculation.
“And the Mad Hatter said it was a number that is perfectly prime but impossible to count,” Alice continued.
12 is not a prime number, but 19 is, and 7 is. Alice focused back on the difference.
“Wait,” she said. “The Queen’s court consists of Twelve card figures around the table, and the Card Hedge has Twelve figures. And the month of December has twelve days until Christmas. Twelve is the number of things that must be whole or complete in the Queen’s court.”
Mr. Prickles suddenly tapped the number 19 arch with his nose. “But look, Alice! The Gryphon said the Queen’s age is a number where two roads diverge and one path is taken! Nineteen and Seven are the diverging roads. But if the Queen’s court has twelve figures, and twelve arches is standard, then maybe the Queen’s age is simply the one that remains when you take the twelve away!”
19 – 12 = 7.
7 is a prime number, which the Hatter mentioned.
Alice looked back at the arches. “No, look! Seven is too small for a Queen’s age. But what if the number of wickets is what matters?”
Mr. Prickles pointed at the 19 arch. “If the Queen wants 19 wickets, that is too many for the course! But if we take the common number of twelve arches, and the Gryphon suggests the answer is found in the subtraction, then the Queen’s age is 19.”
Alice finally had a moment of clarity. “No, Mr. Prickles. The Queen’s court is based on the Pack of Cards. A pack has 52 cards, but only the Four Suits matter. The simplest, most logical prime number is Seven.”
Suddenly, the Cheshire Cat’s grin shimmered into existence just above the arches.
“You’re both terribly wrong, dearie! And dreadfully, delightfully confusing! The Queen’s age is simply the number that makes a straight line crooked!” The grin faded.
Mr. Prickles was distraught. “A straight line crooked? That is not mathematically sound!”
Alice looked at the arches again. She picked up the 19 arch. In the light, she realized the paint on the ‘9’ was cracked. If you rotated the 19 upside down and ignored the crack, it became 61.
“The Queen’s age must be 19,” Alice announced firmly. “Because it is the largest, most impossible prime number here. And we must assume that the number of arches is 19.”
Mr. Prickles looked skeptical but accepted the verdict. “Very well. We must now prepare the Flamingo Flurry! We must make sure those flamingos are dizzy but not frozen, or the Cracker will not work!”
Day 15: The March Hare’s Holiday Madness
Alice, with Mr. Prickles safely tucked into her pocket, headed toward the location of the Flamingo Flurry, which Mr. Prickles had described as a holding pen where the birds were being forced into a frenzy of caroling.
She soon heard a rhythmic, thumping noise, accompanied by a high-pitched, manic singing. She found the March Hare guarding a large, circular enclosure made of woven straw and aggressively cheerful ribbons.
Inside, dozens of brightly coloured flamingos were hopping wildly in a dizzying circle. The March Hare, wearing a pair of enormous, tattered rabbit ears decorated with jingle bells, was conducting them with a large wooden spoon.
“Faster! Faster!” screamed the March Hare. “You must get dizzy enough to be a proper, pliable mallet, but not so dizzy you forget the lyrics to Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly!”
The flamingos, pink and beautiful, looked utterly exhausted and miserable.
Alice approached the Hare, who was so focused on his conducting that he didn’t notice her until she tapped his foot.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hare. I have the True Christmas Cracker, and I need to ensure the flamingos are ready for the Yule Tide Trial.”
The March Hare stopped conducting and tilted his head. “Ready? They are nearly ready! Almost perfectly dizzy! But the Queen said they must be kept warm until the night of the trial, or they will freeze solid and be useless as mallets.”
He pointed to a stack of strange, oily-smelling blankets piled next to the pen.
“I have to cover them every night with these Grease Blankets to keep them pliable, or else they’ll freeze into useless, permanent salutes! And I have to keep the floor wet with Melted Butter to ensure they slide properly when they are used as mallets!”
Alice was horrified. “But if they freeze solid, they will stop the Trial, won’t they? Mr. Prickles says the Cracker will Un-freeze them, but if they are already frozen, they will simply shatter!”
“That’s the risk!” the March Hare cried, tearing at his jingle bells. “If they are frozen too soon, the Queen will blame me for their un-pliability! If they are too warm, they run away before the Trial! It is a dilemma of the highest holiday order!”
Mr. Prickles poked his head out of Alice’s pocket. “Alice! If we can freeze them before the March Hare covers them tonight, the Queen will blame the Weather and not the Hare! It’s the only logical option!”
“But how do we freeze them quickly?” Alice asked. “It’s not cold enough here.”
The March Hare suddenly snatched up his conducting spoon and tapped Alice’s pocket, right where Mr. Prickles was hiding.
“You’re wrong! It is cold enough! You have forgotten the Jellyfish Jello!”
He pointed to a nearby barrel filled with a shimmering, pale blue substance.
“The Mock Turtle and the Gryphon made this for the Queen’s pudding, but she rejected it because it was ‘too watery and cold.’ It instantly freezes anything organic it touches. I use it to keep my Figgy Pudding Tea cold, see?” The Hare dipped the spoon in the Jello, and it instantly coated in a layer of clear ice.
“You could freeze the floor of the pen with that! Then the flamingos would freeze right into their final, un-malleable postures!”
Alice realized this was a risky, but necessary move. If she could freeze the flamingos solid now, the Queen wouldn’t be able to use them on Christmas Eve, and the Cracker, when pulled, would simply confirm their frozen state, permanently stopping the game.
“I will do it,” Alice said.
The March Hare clapped his hands in glee. “Hurry! I am scheduled to cover them with the Grease Blankets exactly at the strike of the Un-Clock!”
Day 16: The Unexpected Freeze
Alice looked at the barrel of pale blue Jellyfish Jello. It was a massive container, far too heavy for her to lift, and the March Hare, exhausted by his conducting, was already half-asleep on the ground, humming a tuneless carol.
Mr. Prickles popped his head out of her pocket, looking worried. “Alice, we must be quick! If the Hare wakes up, he’ll stop us! And we need to cover the entire floor of the pen!”
Alice spotted a large, empty watering can nearby, left behind by the card painters.
“I can’t lift the barrel, but I can scoop it,” she determined.
Working quickly and quietly, Alice began scooping the icy Jellyfish Jello into the watering can. The chilling cold of the substance made her hands tingle. She carefully approached the pen.
The dizzy flamingos were still performing their frantic, circular dance, singing high, warbling notes. Alice climbed the straw fence and began to pour the Jello in a wide, sweeping arc across the enclosure floor.
The effect was instantaneous and dramatic.
Where the Jello touched the wet ground, the melted butter froze solid, turning the surface into a sheet of perfectly smooth, slippery ice. The singing flamingos, already terribly dizzy, suddenly lost all purchase on the floor.
One by one, they slid uncontrollably, their long legs shooting out from under them. They fell into the Jello-coated ice in the most peculiar positions: one looked exactly like a question mark, another lay straight out in the position of a cricket bat, and the most dramatic of all froze mid-slide, perfectly mimicking the position of a saluting soldier.
Within minutes, the entire enclosure was a silent, pink and icy tableau. The flamingos were completely, permanently frozen solid into their un-malleable, decorative poses. They were utterly useless as croquet mallets now.
“Bravo, Alice! Bravo!” squeaked Mr. Prickles from her pocket. “A magnificent, asymmetrical triumph! The Yule Tide Trial is one step closer to failure!”
Just as Alice finished pouring the last of the Jello and was climbing down, the March Hare stirred and opened one glazed eye.
He looked at the pen, which was now silent and still. He stared at the frozen flamingos, completely motionless on the icy floor.
Then, he shrieked, a sound of pure panic that echoed through the forest.
“Oh, no! They’ve frozen themselves! It’s the fault of the Un-Clock! It must be past the hour! The Queen will certainly think I let them freeze! Off with my ears! Off with my nose! Off with my entire waistcoat!”
He didn’t notice Alice. He simply grabbed the pile of oily Grease Blankets and, weeping dramatically, ran off toward the castle to report his own failure before the Queen could discover it for herself.
Alice had succeeded. The mallets for the Trial were ruined. She now had the True Christmas Cracker and the Reader Hedgehog.
“Now, Mr. Prickles,” Alice said, looking down the path. “What is the only thing left to prepare before Christmas Eve?”
“The Queen’s List of Punishments!” Mr. Prickles declared instantly. “The Gryphon reads it aloud at dawn every day, and it must be perfectly in order! If the list is mixed up, the Queen gets confused and forgets who to sentence. We must find the Gryphon before tomorrow’s reading!”
Day 17: The Gryphon’s Punishment List
Alice and Mr. Prickles tracked the Gryphon back toward his lair near the Mock Turtle’s cold, damp clearing. The air was now filled with the sound of the Gryphon’s booming, melodramatic voice.
He was sitting on his seaweed-covered rock, wearing his tiny apron, and holding a scroll of parchment as tall as Alice. He was practicing the daily reading of the Queen’s latest decrees.
“Item 47-B, Sub-Section C,” the Gryphon read dramatically. “The March Hare shall be required to wear three extra jingle bells for forgetting the Queen’s favourite song. Item 48: The Dormouse shall be publicly questioned about his lack of enthusiasm for mince pies.”
Alice held Mr. Prickles close. “We must confuse the list so badly the Queen will have to pause the trial to sort it out.”
They waited until the Gryphon finished his rehearsal and flew off momentarily to fetch a clam shell for polishing.
Alice quickly approached the massive punishment scroll, which lay unfurled across the seaweed rock. The paper was stiff and brittle, listing dozens of petty crimes and their overly severe sentences.
“Mr. Prickles, you’re the reader. What is the one thing that would truly confuse the Queen?”
Mr. Prickles, climbing onto the scroll, pointed his tiny nose at the ink. “The Queen’s entire system is based on two types of sentences: Off with their heads! and You are Forgiven! Anything in between causes extreme mental distress.”
He then pointed to the two most common penalties on the list:
- For painting the wrong colour rose: Off with their heads!
- For sneezing too loudly: You are Forgiven!
“If we switch those two sentences, the entire system collapses,” Mr. Prickles explained. “But how do we change the ink?”
Alice looked around the damp clearing. Her eyes fell on a pot of paint that the card gardeners must have left behind when painting the nearby sea-anemones. It was a pot of Invisible Ink, meant for painting secret lines on the croquet course.
“We don’t switch the sentences, we switch the Crimes,” Alice whispered.
She found a quill and dipped it into the Invisible Ink. Mr. Prickles guided her hand, carefully painting over the crimes listed next to the sentences.
Under the guidance of the educated hedgehog, Alice performed the following swaps:
- The punishment Off with their heads! was now listed for the crime of: Wearing too bright a shade of Christmas Green.
- The punishment You are Forgiven! was now listed for the crime of: Attempted theft of the Queen’s crown.
“Perfect!” exclaimed Mr. Prickles. “When the Gryphon reads it tomorrow, the Queen will be forced to forgive a traitor and execute a fashion victim! The chaos will be glorious!”
Just as they finished, the Gryphon returned, setting down his clam shell with a sigh. He noticed Alice standing by the scroll.
“What are you doing here, child? Trying to escape the Trial?”
“I was merely admiring your beautiful handwriting, sir,” Alice lied smoothly.
The Gryphon swelled with pride, puffing out his eagle chest. “Ah, yes! Perfect order! The Queen insists that even though the sentences are absurd, the list must be immaculately arranged. Now, off you go! You must be at the Court of Festive Trials for the rehearsal tomorrow!”
Alice hurried away, a faint, metallic taste of triumph on her tongue. The flamingo mallets were useless, and the punishment list was a catastrophe.
Day 18: The Trial Rehearsal
Alice and Mr. Prickles made their way to the Court of Festive Trials, a large, draughty ballroom where the Queen conducted her most elaborate nonsense. The room was currently being set up for a dress rehearsal of the Yule Tide Trial.
The place was frantic with activity. Card Guards were polishing enormous, frozen puddings meant to be side tables. The King, looking terrified, was practicing his opening speech, which mostly consisted of him stuttering and checking his notes.
The Queen of Hearts entered, looking absolutely enormous in a gown made entirely of shimmering red and green velvet, topped with a towering, asymmetrical crown. She carried a megaphone shaped like a festive horn.
“Order! Order! This is a rehearsal for Christmas Eve! Everything must be absolutely perfectly absurd!” shrieked the Queen through the horn, her voice echoing painfully off the marble floor.
She spotted Alice immediately.
“You! Girl! You are one of the contestants! Come here!”
Alice stepped forward, trying to look suitably eager.
“Listen closely! The Trial consists of three rounds. First, you must hit a Frozen Goose through the Flamingo Archway. Second, you must solve a riddle about Un-Presents. Third, and most importantly, the winner gets to pull the True Christmas Cracker!”
“And the losers?” Alice asked politely.
The Queen smiled, an expression far more chilling than her frown. “The losers face my latest, most festive punishment! I shall have them thrown into the Vat of Hot Eggnog!”
Alice quickly informed Mr. Prickles of the new, terrible fate.
The rehearsal began. The Card Guards attempted to set up the croquet course, placing the 19 card arches in a confusing, zigzag pattern. They also brought out the mallets.
The March Hare, looking utterly miserable, presented the Frozen Flamingos.
The Queen pointed the horn at the Hare. “Why are these mallets so rigid, Hare? They are supposed to be pliably dizzy!”
The Hare wrung his hands. “It was the weather, Your Majesty! They were hit by a sudden, fierce Jellyfish Jello Freeze! I tried to cover them, but they had already… self-frozen!”
The Queen scowled, but surprisingly, did not issue a sentence. “Fine! We shall use them anyway. Rigid mallets make the game more absurd! But I shall hold you personally responsible for the pliability of the Hedgehog Ball!”
She then pointed to a cage containing a terrified hedgehog. Alice realized this was not Mr. Prickles.
“Mr. Prickles,” she whispered into her pocket. “She has a backup hedgehog! He must not be the one to pull the cracker!”
“He’s an imposter!” squeaked Mr. Prickles, horrified. “That is Mr. Quilliam, the uneducated hedgehog! He can’t read a word!”
The Queen then turned her attention to the King. “Now, King, read the punishment list!”
The King stammered, cleared his throat, and began to read the Invisible Ink changes Alice and Mr. Prickles had made.
“For… for wearing too bright a shade of Christmas Green… Off with their heads!” A card guard in a particularly vivid green scarf promptly fainted.
“And for… attempted theft of the Queen’s crown… You are Forgiven!”
The Queen paused, her eyes bulging. She ripped the scroll from the King’s hands.
“What sort of nonsensical chaos is this? Forgiveness for treason? Execution for fashion? This list is compromised! Scribe!” She pointed to the White Rabbit, who was trying to look invisible behind a column. “You shall spend the next five days compiling a completely new list! Until then, all pending sentences are postponed!”
The Queen was furious about the list, but the delay was exactly what Alice needed.
The rehearsal ended with the Queen declaring the Trial a success, despite the confusion. The climax, she reminded everyone, was the Cracker pull.
“Now, go prepare your nerves! The Trial begins at dusk on the twenty-fourth! And remember, only the winner gets to pull the Cracker with the Official Hedgehog!” She pointed to the cage holding the terrified Mr. Quilliam.
Alice knew she had to find a way to substitute Mr. Prickles for Mr. Quilliam on Christmas Eve.
Day 19: The Hedgehog Switch
Alice knew the success of the plan hinged on the Reader Hedgehog, Mr. Prickles, being the one to pull the True Christmas Cracker on the 24th, not the uneducated imposter, Mr. Quilliam. She needed to execute a switch.
The hedgehogs were kept overnight in the Royal Petting Zoo, which was less a zoo and more a drafty shed full of irritated, non-human participants for the Queen’s games. Alice found the shed located behind the Royal Kitchens, where the air smelled strongly of burnt sugar and disgruntled cooks.
She waited until nightfall. The only guard was the King of Hearts, who was sitting on a small stool, snoring quietly while reading a sign that said: “No Sleeping.”
Mr. Prickles instructed Alice from her pocket. “The hedgehogs are kept in a basket labeled ‘Official Balls for Queen’s Croquet.’ Mr. Quilliam, that dreadful simpleton, is wearing a tiny, silver collar that says ‘Official.'”
Alice crept past the sleeping King, whose crown kept slipping over his eyes. She located the basket. Inside, the terrified Mr. Quilliam was huddled, trembling, wearing the distinctive silver collar.
Next to the basket was a discarded pile of March Hare’s Jingle Bells. They were small and made of cheap brass.
Alice had an idea. “Mr. Prickles, if I switch the collars, the Queen might notice the size difference. But if I give Mr. Quilliam a distinguishing feature that is even more distracting than a collar, the Queen will focus on that.”
“The Queen loves loud things,” Mr. Prickles whispered. “But she hates things that are asymmetrical unless she commands it.”
Alice carefully reached into the basket and gently lifted Mr. Quilliam. The uneducated hedgehog was too frightened to even uncurl. Alice quickly removed the silver “Official” collar and tucked it safely into her own pocket.
Then, she took three of the March Hare’s tiny, brass jingle bells. They were loose, asymmetrical, and terribly loud. Alice used a small piece of loose red thread to tie the three jingle bells securely onto Mr. Quilliam’s tail.
She placed Mr. Quilliam back in the basket. The moment he moved, the bells jingled furiously: Jingle-jingle-jingle!
Alice then took the silver “Official” collar and attached it to Mr. Prickles.
“There,” Alice whispered. “Mr. Quilliam is now the loud, distracting, Jingle-Bell Hedgehog. The Queen will never want to use him to pull the Cracker on Christmas Eve. She’ll declare him too loud and distracting.”
Mr. Prickles, now wearing the “Official” collar, sniffed with approval. “Excellent thinking, Alice! Loud, unnecessary additions are highly suspicious in court. Now, we must focus on the final task: the Flamingo Mallet Decoy!”
Mr. Prickles then explained their next move. “The Queen will be furious that the mallets are frozen. We need to create a Decoy Mallet out of something ridiculous, something she would never dare to use, to distract her from the real problem. I heard the Mock Turtle complaining about a massive, uneaten Christmas Goose meant for the feast. It’s too big, too stiff, and too decorative to be eaten, and it’s currently stored in the pantry.”
Day 20: The Frozen Goose Decoy
Alice and Mr. Prickles made their way to the Royal Kitchens, a surprisingly grim and chaotic place where the Card Cooks argued endlessly over recipes for impossible food. The air was thick with the steam of boiling puddings and the scent of burnt sugar.
They were looking for the massive, uneaten Christmas Goose that Mr. Prickles had heard about.
Alice slipped into the vast, walk-in pantry, where all the festive excesses were stored. She found the goose immediately. It was enormous, stiffly frozen, and dressed in a ridiculous little bow tie. It looked like an inedible, avian monument to holiday waste.
“The Queen refuses to eat it,” whispered Mr. Prickles from Alice’s pocket, “because it is too perfectly cooked and lacks the necessary festive confusion. We shall make it a Decoy Mallet.”
Alice had a pair of small, sharp scissors she kept for emergencies. She carefully began to work on the goose.
The Queen’s flamingo mallets were used by gripping the bird’s legs and swinging the body. To make the goose a suitable decoy, Alice needed to make it resemble a flamingo mallet, but with obvious, absurd flaws.
First, Alice found two stiff, dried-out sprigs of holly and jammed them into the goose’s breast to mimic the Flamingo’s legs.
Next, she took a sheet of bright yellow icing from a nearby cake cart and painted the goose with streaks of pink and green, making it look hideously mismatched.
Finally, she pulled two bright red Christmas Crackers (the cheap, common kind) from a discarded box and tied them to the goose’s wings, so that every time the goose was moved, the crackers would make a faint, premature pop-pop noise.
The result was truly horrifying. The Frozen Goose Mallet was overly large, loud, heavily decorated, and structurally unsound.
“Perfect!” declared Mr. Prickles, tapping the creation with his nose. “It is asymmetrical, loud, and utterly useless as a mallet. When the Queen sees this, she will demand that the guards use the Frozen Goose in the first round of the trial, simply for the spectacle. This will ensure they do not attempt to shatter the real, frozen flamingos before the Cracker is pulled.”
Alice left the magnificent, absurd decoy mallet propped strategically against the door of the pantry where a Card Cook would surely find it.
As they left the kitchens, Alice and Mr. Prickles overheard a loud, aggressive conversation between a cook and the Two of Spades card gardener.
“The Queen’s prizes have arrived!” the cook exclaimed. “They are locked in the Royal Treasure Room! They are the most ridiculous things you’ve ever seen. The Un-Presents for the riddle round are going to be a disaster!”
Alice froze. The Queen had mentioned the second round involved a riddle about Un-Presents. Knowing what the prizes were might be the key to solving the riddle and ensuring she won that round.
“We must see those Un-Presents!” Alice whispered to Mr. Prickles. “The Treasure Room is the final piece of the puzzle.”
Day 21: The Riddle of the Un-Presents
Alice and Mr. Prickles sneaked around the castle until they found the Royal Treasure Room. It wasn’t guarded by soldiers, but by a large, rather grumpy Snowman who seemed to be melting slightly in the warm kitchen air.
The Snowman Guard was holding a sign that read: “The Queen’s Prize Draw. No peeking. Off with your head if you peek.”
Alice, remembering the Invisible Ink trick, decided to try a simple distraction. She noticed the Snowman’s nose was a large, brightly painted carrot.
“Excuse me, sir,” Alice said to the Snowman. “Do you realize your carrot nose is perfectly straight? Doesn’t the Queen prefer things that are delightfully crooked and absurd?”
The Snowman immediately dropped his guard and grabbed his nose, looking horrified. “Crooked? Oh, dear! That is not festive! I must re-adjust the symmetry!”
While the Snowman was preoccupied trying to bend his frozen carrot nose, Alice used her small stature to slip through a gap beneath the door.
The Treasure Room was dazzling, filled with gold and jewels, but Alice was only interested in the prizes for the Trial. She found a massive, wrapped box labeled “Un-Presents for the Victor of Round Two.”
Alice quickly tore a small hole in the wrapping and peered inside. The “Un-Presents” were objects that were completely useless or inconvenient:
- A Teaspoon that was perpetually too hot to touch.
- A Book written in a language that no one had ever spoken.
- A Map that led nowhere in particular.
Mr. Prickles popped his head out of Alice’s pocket and read the label on the box. “The riddle is about these, Alice! The Queen will ask: ‘I am given, but I cannot be kept. I am useful, but I have no use. I am the prize you win, but you lose. What am I?’”
Alice looked at the three items.
- The Hot Teaspoon couldn’t be kept because it was too hot. It had no use for stirring or eating.
- The Unspeakable Book couldn’t be kept because no one could read it. It was useful as paper, but had no use as a book.
- The Useless Map couldn’t be kept because it led nowhere. It was useful as a piece of art, but useless as navigation.
Alice thought about the nature of the prizes. They were all things you were given, but you immediately wished you hadn’t won.
Suddenly, Alice remembered the White Rabbit’s frantic complaints on Day 1.
“It’s not just the objects,” Alice realized. “It’s the general concept of the Un-Present! It is given, but cannot be kept (because no one wants it). It is the prize you win, but you lose (because you get something useless).”
Alice looked at the Useless Map. It was a map of a place that didn’t exist, but it was drawn with incredible detail.
“The answer is the Map!” Mr. Prickles squeaked. “A map that leads nowhere is the most perfectly useless prize. It has all the form of something useful, but none of the function!”
Alice nodded. “It’s the most absurd answer. I will answer with the Map.”
Just as Alice was about to leave, she noticed a large, ornate Glass Jar on a high shelf. Inside the jar were several pieces of crystallized ginger and a tiny, bright green Un-Birthday Candle.
“Wait, Mr. Prickles,” Alice whispered. “What is that candle?”
“That is the Candle of Inconvenience,” the Hedgehog explained. “The Queen uses it to mark the start of the final phase of the Trial. When it is lit, it counts down to the moment the winner pulls the Cracker. It is notoriously fast-burning.”
Alice realized she needed the candle. If the Queen lit the Candle of Inconvenience at the start of the Trial, Alice needed to know exactly how much time she had.
Day 22: The Candle of Inconvenience
Alice had her answer for the Riddle of the Un-Presents, but she knew she needed the Candle of Inconvenience to control the timing of the final moment.
The candle was stored in a large, heavy Glass Jar on a high shelf in the Treasure Room. Alice was still relatively small, having only eaten a tiny fraction of the shrinking mushroom. She certainly couldn’t reach the shelf.
Mr. Prickles, from her pocket, pointed to a rickety wooden ladder leaning against the wall.
“The ladder! But be careful, Alice. The ladder is almost certainly booby-trapped with festive nonsense!”
Alice climbed the ladder slowly. It creaked ominously with every step. About halfway up, she noticed a small, handwritten sign tacked onto the wood: WARNING: All climbers must answer a mandatory riddle about holiday safety, or the ladder will retract.
Alice froze. A voice, high and squeaky, issued from the walls.
“Riddle time! I am sharp, I am green, and I will poke you if you don’t step right. I protect the house, but I am too prickly to hug. What am I?”
“That’s an easy one!” Mr. Prickles whispered in her ear. “It’s clearly a Holly Branch!”
“It’s a holly branch,” Alice announced clearly.
“Correct, but too slow!” the voice shrieked. “Second riddle! I am wrapped up tight, but I have nothing to give. I am pulled to pieces, but I make no sound when broken. What am I?”
Alice thought quickly, remembering all the discarded items around Wonderland. It wasn’t the True Christmas Cracker, which made a sound.
“A Chocolate Santa!” Mr. Prickles hissed. “They are wrapped up tight, but hollow, and they shatter silently!”
“A Chocolate Santa,” Alice repeated.
“Correct, but still too slow! One more chance! I am worn on the head, but I am too small for ears. I am festive, but I bring no cheer. I cause the wearer to be always late. What am I?”
Alice immediately thought of the White Rabbit and his tiny, ridiculous Santa hat.
“The White Rabbit’s tiny Santa hat,” Alice answered.
A grinding sound filled the room. The ladder did not retract. Instead, a tiny shelf sprung out next to the candle jar, holding a teacup filled with lukewarm tea. A new sign appeared: Reward for answering three riddles: Drink Me.
Alice sighed. She wasn’t sure if she needed to grow or shrink, but the teacup was her only chance. She took a tentative sip.
Instead of growing or shrinking, Alice felt a sudden, intense burst of energy. She didn’t change size, but she became extraordinarily quick, moving with a blur that was almost invisible.
“It’s speed!” cried Mr. Prickles. “The Queen wants her prizes protected by fast-moving riddles, and the reward is speed itself! Now, hurry!”
Using her newfound swiftness, Alice shot up the rest of the ladder. She grabbed the Glass Jar and slipped the tiny, bright green Candle of Inconvenience into her pocket, right beside the True Christmas Cracker.
She sped back down the ladder, startling the Snowman Guard, who was still fiddling with his nose.
Alice now had everything: the Cracker, the Reader Hedgehog, the answer to the Riddle, and the Candle to time the finale.
Day 23: The Final Preparations
Alice, moving with a controlled sense of urgency from the “Drink Me” potion, had only hours left until the Yule Tide Trial. She had the True Christmas Cracker, the Reader Hedgehog (Mr. Prickles), the solution to the Riddle, and the fast-burning Candle of Inconvenience.
The atmosphere in Wonderland was growing tense. The Card Guards were polishing the frozen flamingos, the March Hare was hiding under a pile of rejected gift tags, and the White Rabbit was still frantically trying to compile the Queen’s new punishment list.
Alice knew she had two crucial tasks left to secure her success on Christmas Eve:
1. The Imposter Check
Alice returned to the Royal Petting Zoo shed to check on the two hedgehogs. Mr. Prickles was tucked into her pocket, warm and reading his laminated rule sheet.
She peeked into the basket. Mr. Quilliam, the uneducated imposter, was still curled up, now decorated with the tiny, jangling brass bells on his tail.
Suddenly, the Queen of Hearts stormed into the shed, pointing her festive horn megaphone at the basket.
“Where is my Official Hedgehog?” she shrieked.
The King, who had been guarding the shed, nervously pointed a hand at the basket. “He is there, my dear. The one wearing the… the asymmetrical bells, I believe.”
The Queen stared at the loud, jangling hedgehog. Jingle-jingle-jingle!
“That horrid, noisy little nuisance?” the Queen boomed. “He is far too loud and distracting! I shall have him used in the first round of the croquet, where his rolling might distract the opposition! I want the quiet one! The one who is Official!”
She spotted Alice, standing quietly near the door. “You! Girl! Where is the Official Cracker-Pulling Hedgehog?”
Alice gently pulled Mr. Prickles from her pocket, who was wearing the silver “Official” collar.
“He is right here, Your Majesty,” Alice said calmly. “He is the only one who can read the complicated rules of the Cracker-Pulling ceremony.”
The Queen looked Mr. Prickles up and down. “Hmm. Quiet. Respectable. Very well. You shall present him to me before the final round. As for that creature,” she pointed to Mr. Quilliam, “he shall be the first ball for the Frozen Goose Mallet!”
The switch was a success. Mr. Quilliam would be used early, and Mr. Prickles would be safe until the crucial moment.
2. The Final Riddle
Alice then headed to the Croquet Ground where the Trial was fully set up. The 19 Card Arches were positioned across the course, and the Frozen Flamingos stood rigidly next to the spectacular Frozen Goose Mallet.
The White Rabbit, looking utterly defeated, sat on the ground reviewing his new list. He looked up at Alice.
“The Queen has added a final, dreadful riddle to be asked just before the Cracker is pulled. It’s too confusing! It has to do with the difference between time and non-time.”
He handed Alice a final scrap of paper.
I am something the Hatter tried to murder, I am what the Dormouse found on the clock, If you count me, you are wrong, but I am correct. I am the difference between the Un-Birthday and the Day of Birth.
Alice looked at Mr. Prickles.
“The Hatter tried to murder Time,” Mr. Prickles whispered.
“The Dormouse found the forgotten minute, 6:01,” Alice added.
“The difference between the Un-Birthday and the Day of Birth,” Mr. Prickles concluded, “is the entire concept of a single day that is special. Everything else is not special.”
Alice smiled. The final riddle was simpler than it seemed. It was the heart of all Wonderland’s confusion.
“The answer is Un-Time,” Alice declared. “It’s the difference between a real day and a Wonderland day, or the entire concept of an Un-Birthday.”
Mr. Prickles shook his head. “Too simple, Alice. The most complicated answer is the best. The answer is A Second.”
Alice corrected him gently. “No, Mr. Prickles. The correct answer in Wonderland is the most absurd, most specific truth. The difference between an Un-Birthday and a Day of Birth is simply 364.”
The White Rabbit looked up, his eyes wide. “Three hundred and sixty-four days that are not your birthday! That’s brilliant! It’s the perfect, most confusing number!”
Alice now had the key to every round. The stage was set.
Day 24: The Yule Tide Trial and the Grand Finale
The sun began to set on Christmas Eve, casting long, dramatic shadows across the Queen’s Croquet Ground. The crowd was immense: all the Card Guards, the miserable Card Gardeners, the terrified King, the relieved March Hare, and the White Rabbit, clutching his newly finished list.
Alice stood ready, the True Christmas Cracker resting securely in her pocket, beside the Reader Hedgehog, Mr. Prickles.
The Queen of Hearts, looking fiercer and more asymmetrical than ever, boomed into her horn megaphone.
“Let the Yule Tide Trial begin! The winner gets to pull the Cracker! The losers go into the Vat of Hot Eggnog!”
She pointed a finger at Alice and her first opponent, a nervous courtier dressed as a snowflake.
Round 1: The Croquet Chaos
“The first round!” shrieked the Queen. “Hit the Hedgehog Ball through the Flamingo Archway! Use the magnificent Frozen Goose Mallet!”
The terrified Mr. Quilliam (the noisy, uneducated hedgehog) was placed on the course. Alice was given the Frozen Goose Mallet.
The Goose Mallet was impossible to swing. It was too heavy, too stiff, and the two common crackers tied to its wings popped uselessly every time she moved. Her opponent fared no better, hitting the ground instead of the ball.
When it was Alice’s turn, she didn’t try to swing. Instead, she used her speed (gained from the “Drink Me” potion) and simply pushed the massive mallet. The frozen goose slid awkwardly, bumping the terrified Mr. Quilliam (who jingled furiously) right under the first arch.
“A hit!” shrieked the Queen, impressed by the absurdity. “The Girl wins the first round!”
Round 2: The Riddle of the Un-Presents
The Queen dismissed the first loser and brought forth Alice’s second opponent, a grumpy duke.
“The riddle round!” cried the Queen. She pointed to the massive box of Un-Presents.
“I am something the Hatter tried to murder, I am what the Dormouse found on the clock, I am the difference between the Un-Birthday and the Day of Birth. What am I?”
The grumpy duke stammered, “Is it… Time?”
“WRONG!” bellowed the Queen. “You are sentenced to the Vat of Hot Eggnog!”
The duke was dragged away, weeping.
“You, Girl! Answer!”
Alice stepped forward and bowed. “The answer, Your Majesty, is Three Hundred and Sixty-Four.”
The Queen froze. The White Rabbit gasped and fainted.
“Correct!” the Queen finally shrieked, slamming her horn on the ground. “The correct, most confusing number! You win the second round!”
The Final Showdown
Alice was the sole winner. The Queen looked immensely displeased but upheld the rules.
“You have won! Now, the grand finale! You get to pull the True Christmas Cracker!”
The Queen pointed to the Candle of Inconvenience, which had been placed on a pedestal. “Light the candle! It will count down to the moment you must pull the Cracker!”
A Card Guard lit the tiny, green candle. The wick flared bright, and the flame began to consume the wax with alarming speed.
Alice pulled out the True Christmas Cracker and handed one end to the Queen. She then pulled Mr. Prickles from her pocket, the Official Hedgehog in his silver collar, and placed him gently on the pedestal.
“And my partner for the pull is the Official Reader Hedgehog,” Alice announced.
“Very well!” the Queen snapped, grabbing her end of the Cracker. “Three… Two… One… PULL!”
Just as the Candle of Inconvenience burned out, Alice and the Queen pulled the Cracker.
KRA-BOOM!
The sound was not a snap, but a magnificent, theatrical cannon-like explosion. The shockwave was enormous.
The Frozen Flamingos on the course suddenly shuddered. Instead of shattering, the explosive sound Un-froze them! They unfolded their long legs, stretched their necks, and immediately flapped away, squawking happily, soaring over the castle walls!
The mallets were gone. The game was halted forever.
The Queen stared at the empty course. “My mallets! They are Un-Frozen! The Trial is ruined!”
Alice smiled, holding the other half of the Cracker. Inside the tube, the True Christmas Prize was revealed: a tiny, white card with a single word written in gold ink: “MERRY.”
Mr. Prickles, having performed his duty, climbed onto Alice’s shoulder.
The Queen, seeing her Trial and her ridiculous rules defeated by one tiny word, finally collapsed onto her throne, sobbing.
“It’s simply Merry!” she wept. “There is no chaos! No confusion! It’s all correct!”
The spell of Christmastime Nonsense was broken. The sky shifted back to its normal colour, the tinsel looked a little less bright, and the Mad Hatter’s distant singing suddenly became only mildly irritating.
Alice knew her work was done. As the King nervously approached the Queen to offer her a handkerchief, Alice felt the familiar, drowsy feeling of returning home.
She waved to Mr. Prickles, who gave her a scholarly nod, and then turned to the cheering Card Gardeners.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” she called out, before tumbling, not down a chimney, but straight through the large, suddenly appearing keyhole of the True Christmas Cracker and landing softly back in her own living room.
She woke up by the fire, the book about Figgy Pudding still on her lap. She looked at the mantelpiece. On the very top of the mantle, next to a small, ordinary box of holiday crackers, was a single, tiny, golden piece of paper with the word “MERRY” written on it.
And she knew that she had, indeed, saved Wonderland from its own chaotic, nonsensical Christmas.
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 