Alice had never seen such a strange goose.
The goose was lying on the hat of a huge mushroom, and it was just huge.
Good day! Alice spoke.
– Who... you... – long said the goose.
The goose smoked a large tube. With each word, the club of smoke. Sweet and mocked, they climbed up, swinging and confusing themselves, carried away by a light warm wind.
“Maybe I’ll smoke too,” thought Alice.
And she no longer thought of the wicked and glamorous queen, of the poorly characterized masochistic king, of the major hatcher with his marginal rabbit, not even of the erotic smile of the old Cheshire pedophile...
Until the very morning...
Before I woke up...
From an unbearable headache.
In a one-room apartment...
In the outskirts of Salt Lake City...
Next to it was a cushioned in a fur tapk... and the book “Alice in the mirror”, placed in the very middle of a piece of salt that had already dried up...
and Ophigete! Alice spoke, noticing a complete absence of breasts, a penis in jeans and a three-day chest.
I am...binding it. He once again swore to himself.