The large doors to the Sorting Room opened and in stumbled a frazzled hare in a waistcoat. He was stressed to find no dining table or tea anywhere. He couldn’t smell the delectables of pancakes and muffins, of cookies and sugar, of dates and pudding. He took out his pocket watch, staring at the hands. He moved in to sniff the glass face mutter
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Today's karma menu included a house elf approaching Mr. Teatime just as he passed the open door to the sorting room, and calling out his name in an extraordinarily loud voice. Loud enough, say, for a Mad March Hare to hear.
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Then the Hare saw the man in black. Odd man by far, but he was used to such oddities. When that final clue clicked in his head, he screamed, "We do not joke of teatime!" He shook the ladle in his hand, whilst a perpetual green liquid was sloshed from the bowl of the ladle.
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"I think maybe you dropped this?"
Hexed? By Sadako? Would she do that?
Which is to say, absolutely.
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It looked like tea... But strange substances had a habit of ruining one's day in Underland. He stared at its label. It was his name sure enough, and had no stuck on additive that read "Eat Me" or for that matter, "Drink Me". He snatched the vial from Sadako's hand, popped the stopper and took a long whiff. The substance had a vile smell which curdled in his sensitive nostrils, with a feeling of betrayal he screeched, "THIS IS NOT TEA!" In the clamor of his disgust he lost purchase of the vial. He fumbled erratically with the vial, sloshing the amber liquid on his paws.
When he finally had the vial in one paw, he looked like a bizarre pond ornament, one leg out and in a ballerina position. His large eyes stared about, his right eye twitched. "Vial," he whimpered.
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"So. You like tea?"
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As the internal struggle of madness engulfed the Hare's mind, he was outwardly twitchy and unresponsive. He was in a daze fashion, his hind leg twitched - making it thump against the stones, and his ears had an automatic means to perk up - the right first, while the left ear was limp, and vice-versa.
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