“Pablo, what was that last word that Jimi sang?”
“What word?” answered Pablo.
“That mañanas word.”
“It's Spanish for tomorrow, Alice. The singer is asking us to celebrate the forever tomorrows. Wouldn't you like that?”
“I wouldn't like that, at all!” said Alice, as Celia and herself stepped out, onto the grass. “Because yesterday is where I want to be.”
(JOING! SHULEEOINNNGH! BLOZZ BLOZZ BLOZZ!)
Jimi Hentrails was still playing up a storm, as Pablo called after the two girls, “Watch out for the snakes, Alice; they won't like Celia leaving the garden. . .”
Imagine, after taking only a few steps over the dewy grass, Alice heard a terrible swishing sound from behind her; and then imagine her surprise when seemingly a hundred slithering snakes came rushing out of the hedgerows, all of them extremely keen to take a fangly bite at her ankles!
The Long Paw of the Law
Snakes, snakes, snakes! Everywhere all around Alice a swissshing and a hisssing noise could be heard as a hundred-knot of sssnakes ssslithered and sssibilanted themselves through the undergrowth. It was now thirty minutes past seven o'clock in the morning and the Real-life Alice was being viciously dragged towards the knot garden's exit gate by Celia, the Automated Alice. The sun was rising over and above the hedgerows, illuminating the rainbowed scales of the collected ranks of the Under Assistant Civil Serpents. Alice glanced behind at a sudden scrunching noise to see the walking shed of Pablo Ogden lumbering off, back towards the centre of the garden. And then she was running towards the iron gates and jumping over many a snake in her journey. “All I seem to be doing in 1998,” Alice said to herself whilst running (and jumping) alongside Celia, “is running! Running, running, running! It was never like this in 1860: why, in the afternoon of that year, I could not even be bothered to get out of my armchair. Not even for a writing lesson! Maybe everything is so much faster in the future? At this rate I shall never catch my breath, let alone my parrot!”
“Quickly, Alice, quickly!” Celia cried, fearful of the snakes dragging her back into the garden. “The gates are just ahead of us.”
They made it only just in time. Celia wrenched open the iron gates with her terbo-charged arms (even as the myriad snakes were biting at her porcelain ankles) and then pushed Alice through into the next episode. Celia clanged the gates shut behind her (squashing a snake's head in the closing process). “Jolly bad luck, Mister Snakified Under Assistant!” Celia sang, quite gleefully.
And that was how Alice and Celia made their entrance into the streets of Manchester.
* * * *
* * *
* * * *
Alice had never heard such a hellish noise before, such a tumultitude, such a cacophonous display of wailings and screechings! And so very early in the morning! Why this was even worse than the terrible racket that James Marshall Hentrails had made upon his terrible racket. Alice and Celia were now standing at the side of an extremely busy thoroughfare; behind them the gates to the knot garden were being hissed at madly by the frustrated snakes. In front of them were hundreds of moaning metal horses, who breathed out a fulsome wind of smelly gases from their hind ends as they sped along the road (at more than twenty miles per hour!). Clinging tightly to the saddle of each metal horse was a person (not one of which looked entirely human).
“My goodness!” cried Alice to Celia. “What a pong! I've never seen so many horses before.”
“These are not horses,” said Celia, “these are carriages.”
“Well they certainly look a little like horses.”
“These vehicles are horseless carriages.”
“How do you know that the carriages are horseless?” asked Alice.
“Because they haven't
“What word?” answered Pablo.
“That mañanas word.”
“It's Spanish for tomorrow, Alice. The singer is asking us to celebrate the forever tomorrows. Wouldn't you like that?”
“I wouldn't like that, at all!” said Alice, as Celia and herself stepped out, onto the grass. “Because yesterday is where I want to be.”
(JOING! SHULEEOINNNGH! BLOZZ BLOZZ BLOZZ!)
Jimi Hentrails was still playing up a storm, as Pablo called after the two girls, “Watch out for the snakes, Alice; they won't like Celia leaving the garden. . .”
Imagine, after taking only a few steps over the dewy grass, Alice heard a terrible swishing sound from behind her; and then imagine her surprise when seemingly a hundred slithering snakes came rushing out of the hedgerows, all of them extremely keen to take a fangly bite at her ankles!
The Long Paw of the Law
Snakes, snakes, snakes! Everywhere all around Alice a swissshing and a hisssing noise could be heard as a hundred-knot of sssnakes ssslithered and sssibilanted themselves through the undergrowth. It was now thirty minutes past seven o'clock in the morning and the Real-life Alice was being viciously dragged towards the knot garden's exit gate by Celia, the Automated Alice. The sun was rising over and above the hedgerows, illuminating the rainbowed scales of the collected ranks of the Under Assistant Civil Serpents. Alice glanced behind at a sudden scrunching noise to see the walking shed of Pablo Ogden lumbering off, back towards the centre of the garden. And then she was running towards the iron gates and jumping over many a snake in her journey. “All I seem to be doing in 1998,” Alice said to herself whilst running (and jumping) alongside Celia, “is running! Running, running, running! It was never like this in 1860: why, in the afternoon of that year, I could not even be bothered to get out of my armchair. Not even for a writing lesson! Maybe everything is so much faster in the future? At this rate I shall never catch my breath, let alone my parrot!”
“Quickly, Alice, quickly!” Celia cried, fearful of the snakes dragging her back into the garden. “The gates are just ahead of us.”
They made it only just in time. Celia wrenched open the iron gates with her terbo-charged arms (even as the myriad snakes were biting at her porcelain ankles) and then pushed Alice through into the next episode. Celia clanged the gates shut behind her (squashing a snake's head in the closing process). “Jolly bad luck, Mister Snakified Under Assistant!” Celia sang, quite gleefully.
And that was how Alice and Celia made their entrance into the streets of Manchester.
* * * *
* * *
* * * *
Alice had never heard such a hellish noise before, such a tumultitude, such a cacophonous display of wailings and screechings! And so very early in the morning! Why this was even worse than the terrible racket that James Marshall Hentrails had made upon his terrible racket. Alice and Celia were now standing at the side of an extremely busy thoroughfare; behind them the gates to the knot garden were being hissed at madly by the frustrated snakes. In front of them were hundreds of moaning metal horses, who breathed out a fulsome wind of smelly gases from their hind ends as they sped along the road (at more than twenty miles per hour!). Clinging tightly to the saddle of each metal horse was a person (not one of which looked entirely human).
“My goodness!” cried Alice to Celia. “What a pong! I've never seen so many horses before.”
“These are not horses,” said Celia, “these are carriages.”
“Well they certainly look a little like horses.”
“These vehicles are horseless carriages.”
“How do you know that the carriages are horseless?” asked Alice.
“Because they haven't
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