Buckingham Palace, London
“W hat are you doing, My Queen?” Margaret asked.
“Getting dressed up. We’re going to Oxford.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to miss the show.”
“Show?” Margaret grimaced.
“That’s like the best reality TV show I’ve ever seen. Watching terrorists nuked by the police. I love it.”
“We can watch it here on TV.”
“And miss all the helter-skelter of a blood fest? I want to see it with my own eyes. Your messenger is a genius. I want to see the Inklings blown up by the police while the world cheers for them.”
“We’re not really sure what’s going on yet,” Margaret said.
“I don’t care.” The Queen stomped her feet. “I want to watch!”
“You sound like a child.”
“I’m a child. Can’t you see how short I am? This show in Oxford is going to be even better than the Circus back in Wonderland. I’m going to see Alice Wonder splattered in blood and shot by the police. If it happens, I will turn today into an annual holiday in Britain.”
“This is insane.”
“Please stop saying things are insane, as if everything isn’t. Get ready, Margaret, we’re going to watch the greatest execution on earth!”