Not a Time for Tea by Kenneth M. Kapp

“Oh deer, deer, deer. I think they’re coming for us.” The man in the tall black hat dropped his teacup on the tree stump. The dormouse was alarmed and dropped his cup on the ground. Tugging at the cuff of the man’s pants, he squeaked, “What’s happening?”

“I see, I see, I see. We must flee, flee, flee as fast as can be.” Swinging his hat from his head he said, “You must jump in quickly, quickly, quickly.”

The dormouse climbed onto the top of his shoe, stood up on his back feet, and, placing his forepaws on his hips, sputtered, doing his best to control his lisp. “Very vell but only if you shop repeating yourshelf. Vhy you ever…” and then gave up in frustration.

“Why I ever? Why I ever? Why I ever? Because there really are three deer standing on the crest of the hill and one has a bright red nose. I was afraid if I only said deer once you’d argue that there was no need to run. Now, please, please, please – hop in my hat. Don’t forget there are handholds behind the hatband. Do hurry!”

The dormouse smiled. He liked riding around inside the tall black hat. He imagined he was the masked rider of yore, galloping after bandits who had just robbed a stagecoach or six-shooting desperadoes who rode into town aiming to cause trouble.

He hopped into the hat and was soon sitting upon a bald dome to which too much cologne had been applied in the morning. He grabbed the handholds and nosed aside the lint in the hat holes so that he could see. He tapped twice with his right foot and off they flew, the three deer in hot pursuit.

Then the dormouse heard the yell come up through his feet as much as through the felt hat: “We’re late, we’re late, for a very important date.”

And then the dormouse saw the tall man’s hands swing up to the brim of the hat. Not even a second later he heard him yell, “Hold on tightly, we’re going down the rabbit hole!”

The dormouse clenched his jaw. Over and over they tumbled and then clunk, a bounce up, and then whump. The hat stopped rolling on the ground and he slowly released his hands from the straps. He looked around; the tall man was sprawled across a nest of some sort.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Ms. Rabbit’s not going to be pleased with what I did to her bed. But at least we’re safe. The deer are too big to slide down this hole.”

The dormouse swallowed, he was still dizzy from all the tumbling and rolling. When he caught his breath he demanded, “But why are you running away from the deer? They never bother anyone.”

The tall man stood up, brushed off his long coat and picked up his hat. He swung the hat across his middle as if he wished to court the mouse and answered gravely, “Oh but they are dangerous at this time of the year. The one with the red nose is called Rudolph and the other two are Dasher and Dancer. They want to capture us for Santa’s team. Every year it’s the same thing. You get caught, they sprinkle magic pixie dust, and you become a reindeer. Impressed, like the English did in 1812. Surprised I’m still drinking tea. No tea party this. Two weeks before the pixie dust wears off and all the time you’re pulling some fat man around in a loaded sleigh, probably over the weight limit too.”

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. You’re as mad as a hatter.”

The tall man looked up, mistaking dear for dear, and the dormouse escaped further down the rabbit hole vowing never to have tea again with mad hatters or Englishmen.

Kenneth M. Kapp was a Professor of Mathematics, a ceramicist, a welder, an IBMer, and yoga teacher. He lives with his wife in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, writing late at night in his man-cave. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. His essays appear online in havokjournal.com and articles in shepherdexpress.com.

Please visit www.kmkbooks.com.