Alright listen up, you Wonderland tea-suckers,
we’ve got an Alice marching down the path
about to crash our party in a few minutes.
What’s an Alice?
They call her Goldilocks
because she locks on to a target
and doesn’t stop until she sells it on the black market.
We are all targets.
The grinning cat told us she’s on d5
and just took the heart off a knight.
It might have been a flamingo riding a horse
or a playing card in white armor;
suffice it to say it went the way of oysters
down a walrus’ gullet.
She should be on our square momentarily.
She’s already eaten the Jabberwocky and
I’ve heard her appetite isn’t satisfied
with mere “drink me” bottles
or shrinking cake or even a late rabbit,
tasty from baking with pocket-watch precision.
I need you to bring your “A” game
complete with your best unbirthday gimmicks.
Papa Bear, hit her with a riddle the second she walks into the tea house.
Say something ridiculous, you’re good at that.
Mama Bear, you can prepare the tea.
Make a pot of chamomile or something to calm her down.
Her vorpal sword is sharp and we don’t want her
swinging the heads off Tweedledum and -dee because
she drank too much caffeine;
We have a queen to do that.
Baby Bear, I’m going to need you to run interference,
Sing a nursery rhyme or something.
Act drunk off of finger sandwiches.
Read some tea leaves.
Ok team, this better be just right or else it’s porridge or us.