Underland P.I. White Rabbit
an epic poem by: Holden
July 31, 1997
My name is White Rabbit. I am one of Underland's greatest Private Investigators. I stand at 5' 27". I was on a case. A big case. The Investigation is on the murder of the greatest person who ever dropped in (not an expression) on us, Alice.
I found a note at the crime scene. It said:
I had absolutely no idea what the message meant, but I did know one thing: HATTY is the Mad Hatter.
Why he killed her I do not know yet. I have a theory, though. 1st: Hatter gave Alice the message. 2nd: When Alice refused to do whatever the message meant to say he killed her. So... all I have to do is decipher this message... and I think I know the perfect person to help me.
August 1, 1997
I went to see the March Hare. He lives on 1253 Licca Micca Dr., another one of Underland's many funny-named streets. He was in his chair in front of a static TV, twitching and chuckling, and being the insane hare I've always known. When he noticed me he first said, "I love this channel!" Then, when he noticed who I was, "Oh! Hehehehehe hahaha. I-it's you. H-how are you doing on this f-fine day, R-rabbit?!"
"Great," I said. I looked at the TV. "Favorite channel, huh? You know there's nothing on this thing, right?"
"Huh?! Oh! There was a few minutes ago. I guess I hadn't noticed. Hehe."
"I see. Heh. Figures."
"OK, Hare, I need you to tell me what this says."
"Oh, that's easy!" said the Hare, jumping up and down excitedly. "It says, 'SKILLMASTER'S
"I KNOW THAT, YOU DAMN PSYCHOPATH!!!" I took a deep breath. "Will you tell me if there is a secret message in this message... please?"
He looked at me with frightened eyes.
"O-o-of c-course! Th-that's even e-easier! It says 'K-k-k-k-k--'"
"What? What does it say?"
"Oh, Hatty, you've really blown your lid this time! HAHAHAHA!!"
I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him in real close, and said, "Listen, you efing idiot. I'm this close--" I held my hand up with my thumb and forefinger almost touching-- "to making you lose your head permanently if you don't SHUT THE EF UP and tell me what this here note says. Comprende?!”
“OK! Whatever you say, doc! Just read the second row of letters from the top down! HAHAHA! It‘s really quite a-amusing! Hee hee hee!”
“Psycho.” I did what he said. The message read, “KILL THE RABBIT.”
“What the ef?!”
I looked up from the piece of paper... and saw the Hare had just come in from the kitchen, but he didn’t have tea ‘n’ crumpets, he had a big, honking butcher knife. Man! He really is insane.
“LIGHTS OUT, WHITEY!!!” he screamed, ready to plunge the knife into my head and end my days in Underland. I was not about to let that happen. He swung the knife point blank, but I dodged, simultaneously pulling out my revolver. I grabbed his forearm, pulled him in, stuck the gun into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered on the wall and the hare fell into a dead heap.
“Lights out.” I took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off my revolver. I put on some non-latex gloves and pulled out another revolver, shooting a bullet into a trashcan out the window, and, knowing perfectly well which hand he wrote with, put it in his left hand.
I looked up at the many pictures that decorated the walls of the March Hare’s apartment, and my eyes landed on one particular picture. It was of the Hatter, Alice, the Hare, and... the Dormouse! I decided to pay a visit to Miss Dormouse and stepped out of the growing pool of blood that belonged to the Hare.
August 2, 1997
It was a peaceful night. The air smelled of the sweet aroma of red roses painted white and of the nearby river a few blocks from the March Hare’s place. Luckily, the Dormouse lived with the Cheshire Cat who just so happened to be the Hare’s neighbor. I went to the Cat’s front porch. I tried the door. Locked. Then, I remembered where he keeps his extra key. I turned and plucked a tooth from one of the Cat’s many statues of himself. The key was protruding out of the root of the tooth. I stuck it in the keyhole and turned it, then tried the doorknob once more. It opened.
“Cheshire?” I called as I entered the house. “Miss Dormouse? Anyone home?”
Suddenly, chuckles were reverberating down the hall to my left. I turned and went down the hall towards the sound. I could hear more chuckling coming from behind a door at the end of the corridor. I headed for the door. It was open a crack so I peeked in. There was the Dormouse, huddled over a body with a black tuxedo. There was a large pool of blood which the Dormouse cleaned while singing.
“Twinkle, twinkle-- hmhm-- little bat.
How I wonder what you’re at. Haha.
Up above the world so high, tee hee,
Like a tea tray in the sky. Hahaha.”
She then moved and I saw a furry cat head and realized that Miss Dormouse had murdered the Cheshire Cat! I gasped, which was probably the worst thing to do in the world in these kinds of events. She turned and looked straight at me with a wild and murderous gaze. She threw a knife that was protruding out of the Cat and it hit me in the head with a loud KONK! that threw me back, dropping the Hatter’s note. Knife went clattering down the hall and stopped at the mouse’s feet.
She was tall for a mouse, standing at 4’ 12’’ and she has apparently been working out because that throw should have knocked me out cold. She bent over and picked up the knife, then noticed the note and picked that up, too. She read what it said and her eyes immediately got wider and wrought with bloodlust.
“Looks like your time is up, Whitey,” she said. “ Now, should I do this slow and painful? Or fast and no pain at all? HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“Miss Dormouse, please, listen to me. You don’t have to do this.”
She lunged, arm outstretched, aiming for my throat. I caught her, turned her around, and pulled her in. She struggled, but I held on firmly. She then elbowed me in the ribs, and I let her go so suddenly, that she fell, flinging the knife straight up, then straight down, and into the eye of the murderous Miss Dormouse. Her arms fell to her sides with a thud. I did not mourn for her, for I thought she deserved it for killing the Cheshire Cat, who was not only a great friend of mine, but also her husband.
I surveyed her body and spotted a sheet of paper in her apron pocket. The paper said, “YTTAH -- !TAC EHT LLIK”
No, I was not reading it backwards, that was the way it was written. So, I took it into the room containing Cheshire’s body and found that there was a mirror on the door. I held the note up to it. It then said, “KILL THE CAT! --HATTY”
August 3, 1997
After that night, I went home to get some rest. I really did not bother calling the police since I was the police. I had enough on my mind, and absolutely no room for the talk talk talking those stupid policemen do when interrogating someone, and even if I did, I would not tolerate it long enough to let them go. I would have brought out my revolver, put it to the interrogator’s head, cocked it, and said, “Shut your efing trap or I splatter your brains all over the wall!” Is that not amusing?
What was on my mind right then was that the Hatter wanted me dead, and it seemed that everyone listened to him. This also means that everyone wants me dead. Now how efed up is that? I am supposed to be a hero, and now everyone treats me like a fugitive with a price on my head. So now they want to knock my head off and pick up all the money that spills out of it. All I have to do is find Hatter, and if not kill him, put him in a high security prison. Mostly kill him. Lights out, Hatty!
August 4, 1997
The next morning I awoke with a large yawn. I went to my closet and took off my over clothes. I donned a bullet proof vest, then put impenetrable metal around my vital areas, one of which was my jugular vein. I did not want someone to pop my top, because I really need it right now. Right? That would be bad if I had to solve this case headless. No one would answer me when I asked questions. They would just scream, “Holy shiz! It’s the headless P.I.! It’s after me! Ahhhhhhhh!” and run away before I could finish my question.
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