Present: Amusement Park, London
C heshire watched Fabiola choke the Pillar with his own hookah hose.
With folded arms and a Joker mask, he wondered why he hadn’t ever thought of possessing a marriage counselor. That would have been fun—and eventually boring.
Love and hate were two sides of the same coin. Still, the Cheshire was happy to stay penniless while staying away from love and emotion.
Fabiola really wanted to kill the Pillar, which made the Cheshire feel useless. He’d come to kill him, but Fabiola was badass. He had to lay back and lean against a figure from the carousel. But then he had to jump off when he discovered the figure was that of a dog.
The Pillar resisted Fabiola’s chokes but also seemed to let her have her way. Did he want her to kill him? What was it with him today? He seemed like he was someone else. Like all his mojo and mischievousness has flown out of the window.
The Cheshire seriously wondered if the Pillar had already planned the end and only watched them all unknowingly follow his bait like puppets on a string.
Which was probably the case, but why would he accept death if his plan was going well. Wasn’t he part of the winning crowd in the final chapter?
Didn’t sound like him. The Pillar always won, whether the Cheshire liked it or not. That’s why killing was the only possible satisfaction.
Fabiola had Pilla da Killa sprawled on his stomach and was choking him with the hose, so hard not only her knuckles whitened but her whole body and face went pale.
On the contrary, the Pillar’s face reddened like a ripe apple—or a devil in wrath.
This didn’t look right.
Something was off.
The Cheshire wished he knew what.
All he could think of was that the Pillar would not give in that easily.
Unless his death was actually a win.
Could the reading children resurrect him again? The Cheshire had watched it on the news on his way here to kill the Pillar. News analyst proposed the answer to children reading Lewis Carroll’s books all over the world to being an antidote to death for the end of the word. Thus it would resurrect the good ones, or help them survive.
The Pillar most definitely wasn’t one of them.
“If he were a good guy, then I’d be Mother Teresa, or better, Jesus Christ,” he mumbled to himself.
“Stop mumbling and come help me!” Fabiola yelled at him, struggling with the Pillar.
“Nah,” the Cheshire waved a hand, occupied with his thoughts. “Stopped having threesomes after college.”
For the love of nonsense, the Cheshire was surprised at the Pillar wheezing at his jokes. He watched the dying man wink at him with a red face and barely mouth the words ‘good one, Cheshire.’
What kind of man was this Pillar?
The Cheshire had known him for centuries and still couldn’t understand him. Or…
Or was it he never actually meant to understand him. It occurred to him that the Pillar may not have had a final plan for the end of the world, but that everything he had done since Wonderland was part of a bigger plan.
The Cheshire purred in denial. That couldn’t be. He hated books and movies when the villain or protagonist ended up revealing it was all part of a plan.
“Part of a plan, my furry ass,” he mumbled again. “The world is a random place and all we can do is survive it as long we can—or get us some nine lives and enough milk for the ride.”
Maybe the Pillar had no plan. Just a loon who turned madness into an art of delusion.
As he watched the Pillar die — finally — he remembered the Queen of Hearts words about the Pillar’s curse. The deal he made with the Looking Glass.
Whoever kills him will have to wear his body and face for life.
The Cheshire had forgotten the old hag told him this. It sounded like some Edgar Allan Poe crap in the beginning, but what if it were true?
“Well, it means Fabiola will turn into the Pillar’s face,” he rubbed his mask’s plastic chin—did Michael Mayers itch walking with that mask on Halloween?
Ah, dang, he was getting distracted with nonsense.
Back to the Fabiola wearing the Pillar’s face. What would it mean? How will she behave then?
“Well, that will be a kick in her nuts,” he chuckled.
The Cheshire realized how genius the Pillar’s curse was. The man couldn’t become immortal, having not found the fountain of youth. So instead of pursuing it, he made his legacy live on. You kill him, you have to wear his damn face and body for life.
And…
Shit…
The Cheshire’s heart sank into his puss-boots.
A realization struck him, so strong it wasn’t quite comprehensible. Like studying math or chemistry. Gibberish stuff that is actually useful and meaningful but needs a code to decipher first.
He stiffened, watching the Pillar die. He needed to act fast because maybe killing the Pillar was in his favor, not against him.
“Genius!” the Cheshire let out a wheeze.
“Yeah, genius,” Fabiola said with gritted teeth. “That you promised to kill him with me and backed off and let me do all the work!”
Think. Think. Think.
The Cheshire had to think fast, but like all of us, his mouth spat the words out before he could form a comprehensible reason why he spoke, “Stop!”
“What?” Fabiola looked like she was surely going to kill the Cheshire next.
“Don’t kill him!” the Cheshire said.
“Back off,” she roared. “Or I really will kill you next.”
“If he dies he wins!” The Cheshire pleads.
“No one dies and wins!”
“Not unless they’re the Pillar.”
“What are you talking about, Chesh? Come help me finish him.”
“The curse!”
“What curse?”
“The Queen told me about the spell he used in Wonderland. I tried to tell you before—“
“What Queen? My sister? Ah, that nonsense again. Come help me. I need to make sure he isn’t breathing. I need to make sure his heart stops.”
“You need to listen to me, White Queen,” the Cheshire’s thinking hadn’t come up with an answer yet. He was trying to buy himself time.
All he knew was that even if you can kill the Pillar with his own hose, he will never die because you will wear his body and face. And what will that do to you? You will succumb and become another version of him. How can you explain to people you’re not him. Whatever you do, no one will believe you, and in the end, you will have to become him, or another version of him.
What if Fabiola killed the Pillar and just became another Pillar. And then someone else kills Fabiola thinking they are killing the Pillar, then also wearing his face and body and ending up being him.
It was genius and never-ending. The Pillar was always going to win.
The Cheshire ran ahead and jumped Fabiola, the three of them looking weird and funny and totally mad.
“What the hell are you doing, Cheshire?” Fabiola ached as he pulled the hose back from her.
“I lied,” the Cheshire mustered the courage to still sound confident while he was scared out of his mind. “I do like threesomes.”