Alice in Zombieland

Chapter 11 Who Stole the Meat Pies?

The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great moaning crowd of dead things assembled about them—all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a jewel-collared soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the Black Rat, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of steaming meat pies upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them— ‘I wish they’d get the trial done,’ she thought, ‘and hand round the refreshments!’ But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to pass away the time.

Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly everything there. ‘That’s the judge,’ she said to herself, ‘because of his great wig.’ The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the wig. He did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming.

But there were some things in this court room that she was sure never were meant to be used in legal proceedings. For one, there were various bodies in various states of decay hanging along the walls, as if to signal the end of all trials. And there were various weapons, from halberds to swords, close to hand where the King and Queen sat.

Near the Red Queen was a small metal box, with bright lights all along its face. The old woman held the box close to her chest, as if protecting it from prying eyes. When she saw Alice looking her way, she turned so the box was hidden by her great bulk.

‘Now what could that be?’ wondered Alice. The lights were glittering and reminded her of the strange jeweled collars she saw around the necks of the jurors and most of the soldiers scattered throughout the courtroom. Could it be that the box had something to do with the collars, she wondered. She decided to see if she could get a closer look at the box.

But as she didn’t think it possible right now, she turned her attention back to naming the parts of the court room she did recognize.

‘And that’s the jury-box,’ thought Alice, ‘and those twelve zombies,’ (she was obliged to say ‘zombies,’ you see, because all of them were perfectly dead, and in various states of decay; all of them wore those strange jewel collars around their necks, be they beast or bird) ‘I suppose they are the jurors.’ She said this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all. However, ‘jury-men’ would have done just as well.

Some of the twelve jurors were looking around confused, moaning and drooling; some of them had taken up writing instruments and were writing very busily on slates. A few stabbed themselves in their arms, chests and cheeks, as if some sort of game. None showed any sign of pain, and after a stab or two, resumed writing again. ‘What are they doing?’ Alice whispered to the Gryphon. ‘They can’t have anything to put down yet, before the trial’s begun.’

‘They’re putting down their names,’ the Gryphon whispered in reply, ‘for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.’

‘Stupid things!’ Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped hastily, for the Black Rat cried out, ‘Silence in the court!’ and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who was talking.

Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that all the undead jurors were writing down ‘stupid things!’ on their slates, and she could even make out that one of them didn’t know how to spell ‘stupid,’ and that he had to ask his neighbor to tell him. ‘A nice muddle their slates’ll be in before the trial’s over!’ thought Alice.

One of the zombie jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly that the poor little dead juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to bite the end of one of his little dead fingers and write with the bloody end of it for the rest of the day; and this was of very little use, as it left only smeared, indecipherable marks on the slate.

‘Herald, read the accusation!’ said the King.

On this the Black Rat blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:

The Queen of Hearts, she made some meat pies,

All on a summer day:

The Knave of Hearts, he stole those meat pies,

And took them quite away!

‘Consider your verdict,’ the King said to the jury.

‘Not yet, not yet!’ the Rat hastily interrupted. ‘There’s a great deal to come before that!’

‘Call the first witness,’ said the King; and the Black Rat blew three blasts on the trumpet, and called out, ‘First witness!’

The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand and someone’s bloody dismembered hand in the other, of which he was taking little nervous nibbles as he approached. ‘I beg pardon, your Majesty,’ he began, ‘for bringing these in: but I hadn’t quite finished my tea when I was sent for.’

‘You ought to have finished,’ said the King. ‘When did you begin?’

The Hatter looked at the Dead Hare, who had followed him into the court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. ‘Fourteenth of March, I think it was,’ he said.

‘Fifteenth,’ said the Dead Hare.

‘Sixteenth,’ added the Dormouse.

‘Write that down,’ the King said to the jury, and the zombie jury moaned in unison and wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced the answer to shillings and pence. Bill the Lizard was too busy nibbling at his own dead fingers to write anymore. But since he seemed quiet and happy, no one seemed to mind enough to stop him from devouring himself instead of doing his duty as juror.

‘Take off your hat,’ the King said to the Hatter.

‘It isn’t mine,’ said the Hatter.

‘Stolen!’ the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a memorandum of the fact.

‘I keep them to sell,’ the Hatter added as an explanation; ‘I’ve none of my own. I’m a hatter.’

Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, who turned pale and fidgeted. She clutched the metal box close to her chest and sneered.

‘Give your evidence,’ said the King; ‘and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have you executed on the spot.’

This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen and that metal box, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.

Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long as there was room for her.

‘I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.’ said the Dormouse, who was sitting next to her. ‘I can hardly breathe.’

‘I can’t help it,’ said Alice very meekly: ‘I’m growing.’

‘You’ve no right to grow here,’ said the Dormouse.

‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said Alice more boldly: ‘you know you’re growing too.’

‘Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,’ said the Dormouse: ‘not in that ridiculous fashion.’ And he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the other side of the court.

All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of the court, ‘Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!’ on which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off.

‘Give your evidence,’ the King repeated angrily, ‘or I’ll have you executed, whether you’re nervous or not.’

‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, ‘—and I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea—’

‘The twinkling of the what?’ said the King.

‘It began with the tea,’ the Hatter replied.

‘Of course twinkling begins with a T!’ said the King sharply. ‘Do you take me for a dunce? Go on!’

‘I’m a poor man,’ the Hatter went on, ‘and most things twinkled after that—only the Dead Hare said—’

‘I didn’t!’ the Dead Hare interrupted in a great hurry.

‘You did!’ said the Hatter.

‘I deny it!’ said the Dead Hare.

‘He denies it,’ said the King: ‘leave out that part.’

‘Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said—’ the Hatter went on, looking anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied nothing, being fast asleep.

‘After that,’ continued the Hatter, ‘I cut some more bread-and-butter—’

‘But what did the Dormouse say?’ one of the jury asked.

‘That I can’t remember,’ said the Hatter.

‘You must remember,’ remarked the King, ‘or I’ll have you executed.’

The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and half-eaten corpse hand, and went down on one knee. ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ he began.

‘You’re a very poor speaker,’ said the King.

Here one of the zombie guinea-pigs seemed to shake off some silent hypnosis, and despite the fact he wore one of those jeweled collars, the little rotting thing made a lunge at the dead hand which the Hatter held, and was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court. The soldiers piled on him, fighting to avoid his tiny snapping teeth. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and then sat upon it.)

Alice, for all her size, was still trying to figure out a way to get to that metal box. Her curiosity was becoming almost as powerful as her strange hunger now. She was glad for the sudden confusion and used it to edge closer to where the Queen was sitting.

‘If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,’ continued the King.

‘I can’t go no lower,’ said the Hatter: ‘I’m on the floor, as it is.’

‘Then you may sit down,’ the King replied.

Here another undead guinea-pig gave a great shudder and made a grab for the Hatter’s corpse snack, and was suppressed in much the same way by the soldiers. Alice wondered why no one thought it strange that supposedly contrite creatures were suddenly turning violent—and in such a crowded place, too. It seemed to her someone would send out orders to clear the room if such things continued. But since there didn’t seem to be anymore guinea-pigs about, she thought: ‘Come, that finished the guinea-pigs! Now we shall get on better.’

‘I’d rather finish my tea,’ said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the Queen, who was reading the list of singers.

‘You may go,’ said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, without even waiting to put his shoes on.

‘—and just take his head off outside,’ the Queen added to one of the officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to the door.

Alice was getting close enough to the Queen that she could almost see what the metal box really was . . . just a few more feet.

‘Call the next witness!’ said the King.

The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once.

‘Give your evidence,’ said the King.

‘Shan’t,’ said the cook.

The King looked anxiously at the Black Rat, who said in a low voice, ‘Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.’

‘Well, if I must, I must,’ the King said, with a melancholy air, and, after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, ‘What are tarts made of?’

‘Pepper, mostly,’ said the cook.

‘Treacle,’ said a sleepy voice behind her.

‘Collar that Dormouse,’ the Queen shrieked out. ‘Behead that Dormouse! Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!’

For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared.

‘Never mind!’ said the King, with an air of great relief. ‘Call the next witness.’ And he added in an undertone to the Queen, ‘Really, my dear, you must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!’

Alice watched the Black Rat as he fumbled over the list, feeling very curious to see what the next witness would be like, ‘—for they haven’t got much evidence yet,’ she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, when the Black Rat read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name ‘Alice!’