"Who the Fuck is Alice?", the Ending

Because you my dear readers obviously have a strong urge to finish (or interpret) my Alice, here the ending: The Rabbit was not just any rabbit. The Rabbit was a Special Operations cop and the way he looked, Alice was sure that he was capable of many, many very special operations.  The Rabbit took a watch out of his pocket and explained that, although he really liked Alice, he was going to bee too late. So they had a quickie or two or three and the Rabbit ran off. “There you go,” thought Alice, “rabbits are all the same. The only difference is their size.” At least the sex with the Rabbit calmed her hormones so she wasn’t feeling so agitated and stupid anymore. But the White Rabbit wouldn’t be the White Rabbit, and I wouldn’t be writing this story, hadn’t he taken Alice into Wonderland.

Alice was just trying to make her peace with the fact that she had just had a one-night stand when the Rabbit started sending her text messages, sweet like “ORANGE MARMELADE”. And then he called. And called again. He kept on contacting Alice from anywhere he went, and he went to many places. One day he was flying as the undercover terrorist fighter to New York, few days later he called from his caserne, then again from deporting illegal immigrants out of the country.  When not doing that, he was pumping up his muscles. A very different world from Alice’s. But the Rabbit gave her so much tender attention that she just kept following him. Deeper into the hole.

And then he started reappearing. Every now and then he would tell Alice how badly he wanted to see her and then he changed his schedule and called in sick and did whatever it took to come and see her.  He even started sending her presents. One day, after having heard how much she liked drinking Möet, he had sent another rabbit, just as tall and strong, handsome and dangerous, to deliver a diamond studded bottle of Möet to her door. “I know this Rabbit is just a brute and we have absolutely nothing in common, except for the same amount of hormones, but I think I’ll simply take this chance for a stroll through Wonderland.  I’m so fed of my life. I need some distraction.” Alice said to herself.

So when the Rabbit invited her to visit him at his Tea Party, she was glad to accept. She knew that the Wonderland was completely different from her life, so she wasn’t extremely shocked when she arrived. And Wonderland really was completely different. In Wonderland, floors were made of plastic. Brown plastic. Plastic curtains hung from windows. The walls were covered in wood. There was a huge crucifix threateningly hanging above the dinner table. There were photos of Catterpilars and Father Williamses and Queens of Hearts and sneezing babies and grinning cats. There were no two same plates or glasses or towels in Wonderland. Napkins haven’t existed in Wonderland.  But what was worse, so haven’t books, newspapers, magazines, CDs or DVDs. But there were toys. Many toys. Colorful crazy toys. Police stations, fire trucks, Mickey Mouse’s and Bob the Builders. And police badges and ornaments.

The inhabitants of Wonderland were different from any inhabitants Alice had ever met before. They functioned in a completely different way from what Alice was used to. They gave their babies to strangers to nurse them. They spoke roughly to their little boys and beat them when they sneezed and gave them lots of pepper. They never cared if their boys would ever be able to leave Wonderland. Their ideas of right and wrong, beautiful and ugly were very different from what Alice had known till then. They had one set of rules for themselves and another for others. They were great at uglification and they loved beheading other inhabitants.

“Well!” thought Alice to herself, “after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house! Down, down, down. Would this fall never come to an end! I wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?”

But there were fantastic tea parties with fireworks and there was the magnificent landscape. Snow-covered mountains of joy and frozen lakes of tears and the most incredible palaces in all colors imaginable. And there was sex with the huge Rabbit. Sex under fireworks. Orgasms under earth shaking explosions of colors and sounds.

Unfortunately Alice got ill. Maybe it was the strangeness of Wonderland that made her ill. The Rabbit had to go fighting terrorists and other bad people so he tucked Alice safe in his pink bed and sent his friend the Hatter to bring her tea and medicine. The first day, Alice was too ill to suffer being stuck alone in Wonderland. So was she on the second day. But then, she started feeling lonely. And painfully uprooted. It hasn’t even helped that the Rabbit called every few hours to hear how she was and sent her dozens of messages each day. Actually, this made it even worse “What if the Rabbit was so nice that I couldn’t leave this place?” she wondered, “Whom would I turn into? Who in the world am I? Ah that’s the great puzzle! I’ll try if I know all the things I used to know. “

So she thought of her friends and family and books and music and paintings and theatres and newspapers and the why-thoughts and creativity. Then she discovered a radio and found her favorite radio station. This felt better than any medicine. It helped her remember her land. She kept on re-reading her copy of Elle and her book to keep herself sane. And, as she turned extremely desperate about being captivated alone in this strange land, she had the strangest of thoughts “A Chanel bag! I need a Chanel bag. The moment I return home, I’m going to buy myself a Chanel bag.” Alice had never before identified herself with something like a Chanel bag, but this thought felt strangely comforting. It reminded her that her world was still out there somewhere. A completely different world which, at its extreme, also included things such as Chanel bags. And then she managed to find a music channel on TV just as it played one of her favorite songs. The song transferred her to her land. And made her realize how much she liked home. How much she liked her life. How perfect her life was for her. How much she liked to write and to study and to go to book presentations and exhibitions, and yes, sometimes shopping. This sudden realization of the bliss and divine perfection of her world made her cry “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Alice “a great girl like you,” (she might well say this), “to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I tell you!” But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all around her, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall.

After crying her fear out and remembering who she was and realizing the perfection of her life, Alice felt much better. She was still slightly ill but she was looking forward to go home. Strangely, she was also a bit sad about leaving Wonderland, now completely covered in the magic of sparkling white snow.  “Now I understand Stockholm Syndrome,” she smiled at herself as she closed the door behind her.

She never heard from the Rabbit again. She called him and texted him but there was no reply. It was clear to Alice that he was gone forever and that this was OK because he only existed in Wonderland and she couldn’t. She only wished he was a rabbit enough to say goodbye.

After a week, the Rabbit finally sent her a text message: “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!”  It was the last thing she had heard from him.

She didn’t care.