“Whoooo are youuuu?” asked the Caterpillar as he sat upon his mushroom.
“I’ve never seen you in these parts before. Are you another of those daffy ‘writers’ chasing that silly rabbit?”
I could tell the Caterpillar was not a fan of the White Rabbit. Where had he gone, anyway? He was here a minute ago. He and that sweet girl Alexis were leading us through this Wonderland labyrinth just a moment ago, and now they were gone, and the other writers too. I looked around. I was all alone with this Caterpillar, no one else was in sight.
“You can speak, can’t you?” The Caterpillar sounded as if he was becoming annoyed.
“Yes, I can talk,” I answered. “I beg your pardon, sir, I was feeling a bit confused, and I was wondering where the rest of my group had gotten to.”
“They are around here somewhere,” he answered and took a deep pull on his hookah, then blew out a purple smoke-ring that floated slowly in the air before him. “They are probably talking with the Cheshire Cat.”
The creature took another pull on his water-pipe and exhaled three more, smaller smoke-rings, each a different hue. I watched in wonder as they darted after the first ring and flew through the larger circle, and then drifted off in different directions.
“If you’re a writer, why aren’t you writing?” he asked, the disdain clear in his tone. “Your kind are all alike. Chasing after rabbits and dropping down rabbit-holes and looking for shiny objects instead of getting words down on the page.” He looked away from his pipe and glared at me. “Am I right?”
I was forced to agree. “Yes, sir, but you see, there was this session–”
“Excuses, excuses… that’s all I ever hear. I am awaiting a good book, and all I get are excuses!” the creature thundered. “Wake up! Get yourself in the chair and WRITE!!”
And I woke up.
