THE SIX O’CLOCK CIRCUS, MUDFOG TOWN, LONDON
SATURDAY, 11:41 P.M.
T he man with the rabbit stood in the middle of the circus while the children and their parents waited with anticipation. This was it! The Maddest Show on Earth, performed by the one and only magician who called himself the Hatter.
The man wore a top hat. It was black, elegant, and rather funny. Several teaspoons and watches were neatly wrapped around the rims. He was tall. Almost seven feet. And he wore ridiculously tall boots with silver pins and stars. The hat made him look even taller .
The children liked him. He was different, mysterious, and not as boring as their parents. Maddeningly funny, although he rarely spoke.
But what the children absolutely loved about him were his goggles, which made him look like a huge bee. A crooked nose beaked out from underneath the goggles. Not an assuring sight for the parents at first. But the children still liked it. They knew it was meant to be silly, nonsensical, and absurd. Things the older folks rarely understood. Besides, it probably wasn’t the Hatter’s real nose.
The Hatter had a double chin, so strong it squeezed an old shilling between its cheeks. Not once had he dropped it as if it were glued.
He wore a tuxedo. It made him look a bit mature, compared to the absurdness of his face, hat, and goggles. But not really. It was a black tux, with spoons for buttons, sugar cup buttons for his sleeves, and teabags dangling from his upper pockets instead of roses or napkins.
The children, who had been coming every week for almost two months, also liked his glittering gold pocket watch. They knew the time on that watch was always six o’clock.
Always.
That was why the Hatter claimed he never aged. Also, why he never grew hungry. More significantly, it was why he had his sugar cups and spoons always ready. He always had to have his six o’clock tea, which, in his case, was all day long.
The Maddest Show on Earth always started at six o’clock.
It also ended at six o’clock.
Any time in between was, you guessed it, six o’clock.
Usually, the parents would curse the watchmakers on their way out of the circus each night, whining about their malfunctioning watches while inside the circus.
The children would snicker, winking at each other. They knew the Hatter could stop time. But no parent would have believed them.
Right now, almost midnight in the outside world, six o’clock inside the circus, the show was about to begin.