Lennon's Wonderland 5

            Stomping around in a huff, John somehow managed to wander from the wood and back into the giant garden. Marveling at how preposterous that was, the first garden had to still be completely submerged at the moment, John plowed on with the renewed idea to gloat to George about such a garden. The little guitarist turned gardener would be literally green with envy when John had finished with him, and who knows, maybe he could dump his scrawny butt in this mad house as revenge for getting him blammed for that stupid "race" busting up.

            No, this couldn't be the same garden. It was to dry! Besides, as he walked trees surrounded the little garden, but they couldn't be the same trees as the wood he'd just come from right? Right!? This place was so confusing... John found himself wishing for a map or something, or maybe even a sandwhich to get his mind off food and onto his situation. He slowed his walk, looking around at the crystal blue sky slowly becoming covered by the dark green leaves of the towering trees. John thought he even spied a squirrel or two running about up there, he was sure he caught sight of a bird somewhere, and only because he ended up tripping over a rock in the path did he even look down from the odd scene above him.

           John landed in the dirt rather painfully, for a moment he worried he'd given himself a bloody nose but it only seemed sore. He got up quickly, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed that and when he saw that no one was around began to walk quickly onwards down the path. It seemed like he'd been walking for an eternity and he figured he was no closer to finding anyone else in this place than he had been sprawled out on the ground. He looked up again and noticed some of the trees had wooden signposts nailed to them. However, he was now to small to see and try as he might he couldn't make any of the signs out, especially with his poor vision.

            Grumbling, he turned in a direction when the path split into two gigantic paths and began walking.

            "You'll never get anywhere going that way."

            "You know George, for someone trying to be helpful you're not very good at-oh Hello." John blinked when he turned in the middle of his insult to see that the person who'd spoken wasn't his cat-eared friend but a large green catterpillar seated on a mushroom. In one of his many hands he held a cigarette which he took a drag on everyonce in a while as he looked John up and down.

            "Hello," The large caterpillar nodded, "And I'm not a George, I'm a caterpillar."

            "I can see that." John addmitted, "I just thought you were me friend, he keeps popping up and saying things before disapearing again."

            "Sounds like a bit of a loony if you ask me." Th catterpillar said, sounding rather bored.

           "No he's normally the normal one... I guess." John said, "Just today... He suddenelly has cat ears and a tail-and he freaks reporters out! I wish he did that normally, maybe we'd get some peace."

            "Are you sure you're talking about the same person?" The caterpillar asked, "I know who you're talking about but he's never normal. And you speak of him as if you were friends, yet I've never seen you before." He lowered his green head from the cloud of smoke towards John, "Who are you?"

            Without the smoke literally clouding his vision, John was now confronted with his producer's face, only now it was green and two antennas were sprouting from the top of his head.

            "Who are you?" John asked, "You look like George Martin."

            "I am the Catterpillar," the Caterpillar snapped, "I know who I am, but who are you?" He returned to sitting upright, head enveloped by smoke from his cigarette, and glared down at John, who frowned back.

            "What's it matter to yeh eh?" John snapped, "Maybe I don't want to hand out me name to shady characters I meet by the road."

            "I'm not shady, I'm smoky. And everyone knows who I am, but no one knows who you are do they?" The Caterpillar smirked, "Not like you're helping that case though right? Refusing to give your name out-that's shady if you ask me."

            "Well, it doesn't matter much anyway," John said, shrugging as he stuck his hands in his pockets, "Everyone keeps calling me Alice anyway."

            "Well what are they supposed to think? You don't tell them your name. And you certaintly look like an Alice to me."

            "How's that?" John frowned.

            "Dirt everywhere like you've fallen, maybe down a rabbit hole? And you smell of perfumes only the White Rabbit wears so that tells me you've been to her house already. You're tired from walking and you've fallen once or twice it seems," The Caterpillar smirked, "You've follwed the story rather well eh?"

            John clapped his hands together, face growing bright, "Story! That's it! I'm in Alice in Wonderland!"

            "Genius..." The Caterpillar rolled his eyes, "Now anyway, you still haven't answered the question: who are you?"

            "So that means Brian was the Dodo... and Alistair was obviously the lizard... and you're the Caterpillar-"

            "I know who I am!" The Caterpillar cried, "But who are you?!"

            John grinned, holding out his hand, "John Lennon, guitarist for the Beatles, also playing the role of Alice!"

            "I can see that. Now anyway, you wont get anywhere going in that direction. No where helpful at least."

            "I wonder where that goes..." John muttered.

            "The home of some rather mad individuals." The Caterpillar said, "I'd avoid it if I were you. Especially since one of them has gone and upset the Queen."

            "Who?"

            "The Mad Hatter."

            John grinned brightly, "I wonder who's playing 'im eh? I'dve loved the role for me self of course but seeing as that's not possible..."

            "The Mad Hatter is playing himself, as we all must." The Caterpillar said rather sternly, "And I really suggest you leave him be. The March Hare too, friends of freaks can only be freaks themselves."

            "Very wise-ish sounding." John nodded docile, "Now anyway, how can I go anywhere? I'm to short."

            "You are three inches high, a good height for anyone!" The Caterpillar snapped.

            "Well, not if you're meant to go farther than a foot in an hour," John shrugged, only just noticing the rage coloring the green cheeks of the Caterpillar, "I've never seen George look that mad. It's weird you know..."

            "I am the Caterpillar!" The Caterpillar cried, "I am exactly three inches high and it is an enjoyable height indeed!" He smoked furiously on his cigarette, the smoke coming off it filling the air around him so fast he was enveloped in seconds. John coughed furiously, tears stinging his eyes so much that it took a good minute or two to clear them.

            "Caterpillar?!" He called when he'd cleared his eyes in time to see the mushroom was now unoccupied, "Caterpillar? Hello?!"

            A shadow crossed over John and he looked up to see a large blue butterfly fly overhead.

           "Caterpillar?!" John cried in surprise but he was gone, leaving John in the dust as he leaned against the fungus and tried to think about what came next when he'd read the book. He'd thought about reading it yesterday and now he wished he had. Then he'd be able to remember the next part.

           "Oh!" John snapped his fingers and reached to dig a piece of mushroom free. Walking to the other side, he filled a fist with mushroom and considered both sides. One was supposed to make you larger and one smaller right? He just had to choose...

           Nibbling on one side, John closed his eyes and willed it to be the side that made you larger. An odd sensation ran over him and John peeked to see he indeed was growing taller. He watched his line of sight surpass the daisies and tulips growing by the side of the path and go even farther than the first few branches.

           "Crap! No! Stop!" John groaned as he surpassed the tree tops and t-boned a bird flying over. This bird could talk and he screamed a rather choice few phrases as he worked to restore his flight pattern. John grinned sheepishly and his growing began to slow. He sighed and turned to the other bit of mushroom now clutched gingerly between his fingers and gulped it down. Much more quickly than when he'd grown, he shot down to about five inches.

           "Large," John muttered, taking two crumbs from the first piece of mushroom, immediately he shot to his proper height and leaned down to retrieve a small bit of the small side of the mushroom, "Small." He stuck both pieces in his pockets and turned to look at the signs. He could now properly see them and frowned when he discovered they said absolute nonsense.

           One said "Up", another "Down", two pointing in different directions read "This way" "That way" and a fifth read "No way!". All were painted in bright colors and the wood had been cut so the arrows twisted in odd ways as the pointed you in a direction.

           John groaned, wishing this could be a bit easier before shrugging and turning around to begin walking. If it was true the Mad Hatter could be dangerous he figured he wasn't ready. Besides, with his luck, he'd end up meeting Koschmidder as the Mad Hatter or something. That would be terrible indeed...

           Besides, what was down the other path?