I am the fluctuating teeth in the frilly pockets of your dreams. The ribbon of piano keys (no blacks in here, pardon the unintended implication of racism) prejudiced white tusks in a contorted row. Eat me, drink me, one will make you grow and one will make you shrink, if you know what I mean. I am the Tweedle Dee to your Tweedle Dum(b). Because you are the dumb one, the dumb fleshy one, the Scarecrow dropping straw and bird shit all over my pristine yellow brick road. No brains, no brawn, no heart, no glistening ruby-red shoes, click click. I slit Toto’s throat and I ate him in a pie, and you cried. Or I would’ve eaten him if I had a stomach, well, I put him in there, but his guts started to smell rank and Gipetto had to scoop him out. Have you ever seen the sea, my pretty? I haven’t. I’ve never been swallowed by a gigantic whale, although I did once conquer a Dick called Moby, if castration counts. Or was his name Ricky?

You are the court Jester, but I am the whole fucking court, sweetie, the Full House, The Royal Flush, the shuffling deck. The real...deal...BADUM-TISH the high roller, the little blind (you know who the big blind is- he locked you up in your tallest tower). I’m the Queen of his Hearts (if he had any). The Jack of his Spades, for digging (all of those bodies have to go SOMEWHERE, after all, and into the ground where the worms squirm fatly is traditional- who are we to offend tradition?). The King of his Diamonds kept all snugly and tight. The Ace of his Clubs, naturally (I’m ace at clubbing anyone and anything, not that there’s much difference between a one and a thing, mind you). I am your looking glass. Your mirror mirror on the wall, your bastard fairest of them all. I am Cheshire, but have no fear.

You see, we’re all quite mad down here.