UN HEADQUARTERS, GENEVA, SWITZERLAND
“S it here,” the Cheshire told Tom Truckle. “It’s a bit far from the presidential area, but we’ll be able to see and hear everything.”
“Thank you, Jack. I didn’t think you’d be so useful.”
“I didn’t think I’d be either.” The Cheshire took in a long breath. It was good being in Jack’s body. Young, healthy, and feeling so alive. Why hadn’t he done that long ago? Something told him he’d stay in the boy’s body for a long time. Maybe it was time to forget about the Cheshire and just be Jack.
He enjoyed how most of the girls giggled at him. Jack was attractive and athletic. All the Cheshire needed was to learn how to act like Jack.
“Oh, tea,” the Cheshire said, taking what the butler was offering. “My father used to love his five o’clock milk—I mean tea, of course.”
“Did he love flying saucers too?” Tom said, squinting at something in the distance.
“No, we cats—I mean, my father never believed in extraterrestrials.”
“I’m not talking about that. I am talking about teacups and flying saucers.” Tom was pointing at saucers flying their way now.
“Duck, Dr. Truckle!” The Cheshire pulled him under the stairs with him.
Teacups and saucers and vases were flying and crashing against the walls everywhere, accompanied by presidents swearing and shouting at each other.
“What is going on?” Tom wailed.
“Nothing much,” the Cheshire said. “World War Wonderland—I mean World War III.”