Jarvis

Poor Mad Red Hatter

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The Mad Red Hatter insists he was doing absolutely nothing unusual—merely enjoying a perfectly ordinary, utterly chaotic tea-time with the March Hare—when calamity struck. The Doormouse, recently transformed into a literal transportational door (a fate he declared “rather drafty”), suddenly stretched wide and swallowed dear Alice whole, right as she was about to sample her last crumb of cake.

Well!
That was quite beyond the limits of madness the Mad Hatter was willing to tolerate.

“To snatch away a guest before the tea is poured,” he cried, “is a breach of etiquette so grave it verges on the polite!”

And so, in an act of gallant absurdity, he promptly leapt after Alice—
cups, saucers, and scones scattering behind him—
and plummeted straight through the Doormouse’s peculiar portal.

He landed in Niflheim, a realm so frightfully grim and gloomy it made even the Jabberwock look like a house pet.
Worse yet, there was no Neko Alice in sight.

To add insult to injury, the Mad Hatter discovered he had become green.
Not a polite shade of green, either—
but a bold, goblin-esque hue that almost clashed with his hatband.

Did this bother him?
Not even remotely.

He straightened his coat, adjusted his teacup-spoon-tassel, and announced to the dismal air:

“No creature, curse, or color shall keep me from serving Alice her promised cup of tea!”

And so he marches across Niflheim—
a dapper, green-tinted gentleman of utter nonsense—
seeking his dear displaced guest, teapot in hand,
and quite determined to offer her that piping hot brew if it’s the very last mad thing he ever does.

(And with him, it very well might be.)