MD/H
"Dear Clement,
The place is tremendously boring without you. We've decided we can't possibly have you back without returning the gold (we bought new china) - besides, we asked Time to be our third guest and he will not go away. I'm sick of actually washing dishes so I would like you to have him back. He claims we haven't entertained him enough (it's true, we are quite boring now, as I have said) so could you be so kind as to send us a shape poem about you and how you've been doing? I assume that where you are is so absurd now that it'll be sufficient to get Time back to work.
Signed,
Mad D/Hatter.
PS: Whenever you're ready with your brilliant literature do read it aloud in the main thread."
The place is tremendously boring without you. We've decided we can't possibly have you back without returning the gold (we bought new china) - besides, we asked Time to be our third guest and he will not go away. I'm sick of actually washing dishes so I would like you to have him back. He claims we haven't entertained him enough (it's true, we are quite boring now, as I have said) so could you be so kind as to send us a shape poem about you and how you've been doing? I assume that where you are is so absurd now that it'll be sufficient to get Time back to work.
Signed,
Mad D/Hatter.
PS: Whenever you're ready with your brilliant literature do read it aloud in the main thread."
The arrival of the letter had been the biggest and best surprise Clement had in a while. Just by gazing at the envelope, he could tell who it was from. The tea stain explained everything. It was from the Mad Hatter! Oh, if he only knew how much the little dormouse missed him and the March Hare! The two of them were Clement's closest companions in Wonderland; his most trusted friends and confidants. Just the thought of them brought memories rushing back to him: the tea parties, constantly moving seats, unbirthday parties, and treacle tarts! Treacle tarts - aside from his friends, he longed for those the most.
In all the excitement in actually receiving something from home, the dormouse almost completely forgot to read the actual letter itself! Only after calming down did the boy take time to read its contents.
...
So, the Hatter wanted him to write a poem? That wasn't exactly a thrilling task. Clement frowned as he thought about the request he had been given. He was never much of a poet, the Hatter and Hare knew that. His talent came in telling stories, not poetry. Yet, even so, he couldn't just ignore his friend's request; he had to write him a poem! It was the least he could do, besides - the Hatter wanted to hear how he was doing and everything.
It took a little while, but eventually the young dormouse was able to finish. Paper in hand, the boy studied his work carefully, and then nodded to himself. It was done, and it was the best he could do. If the Hatter and Hare didn't like it, then...oh, well! 'They should try writing a shape poem with only eight hours of sleep,' thought Clement with a yawn. 'It's more difficult than it looks! I think I'll stick to storytelling next time...'
There was only one thing left to do after he was through. He had to read it outloud. After rubbing his eyes and yawning for a final time, the dormouse walked out into the livingroom where all the other Hytes often congregated. This was it! The moment of truth. "Uhh..." he murmured before beginning, "I'd like to share a poem I wrote for the Mad Hatter with you all." Clement then paused, readying himself before continuing. "Here it is."
Absurd and backward is my new home, // you were right!
.... The plates are too small to sleep on -- // absolutely mad!
................... Yet, I am not alone. There are // other Wonderlanders with me!
.............. Elda, the Flamingo mallet // and Yorick, the Jabberwock!
........... keep me company. // Don't worry; I'm fine here!
"It's.....it's not the best.." the dormouse confessed once he was through, "but I think it will do. If not...the Hatter is mad to think I will do it again..."
Clement was tired again. He could feel his eyes beginning to get droopy, and in the back of his mind he knew that he would fall asleep soon. Writing poetry was exhausting. How could Edgar Allan Poe do it? Hmmm...it was probably that writing desk. Yes, that had to be it! 'Perhaps I should get one,' the little dormouse thought, 'then poetry would be a whole lot easier!'
Mad D/H
"Dear Clement,
The poem pleased Time well enough! Though he's a busy know-it-all about where you are - it's still nice to hear from you nevertheless, but if I remember right you're backward and you're too big for plates. Blame not the plates! I think you're too big to sleep on plates if you came back so you'd best stay there. I think you'd be big enough to crush them soon...
Signed,
Mad D/Hatter."
The poem pleased Time well enough! Though he's a busy know-it-all about where you are - it's still nice to hear from you nevertheless, but if I remember right you're backward and you're too big for plates. Blame not the plates! I think you're too big to sleep on plates if you came back so you'd best stay there. I think you'd be big enough to crush them soon...
Signed,
Mad D/Hatter."
