Donald in Wonderland — apologies to Lewis Carroll

The Situation Room had a tea party. It was the type of tea party that took place regularly in the place called D.C. That sadly made it an ordinary tea party, but it had the most extraordinary characters. At the tea table sat Susie Alice, Marco Hare, Dormouse Pete, and Donald the Mad Hatter.

There used to be tea parties held by something called the Tea Party. No more. Their friendly neighbour known as Mr. MAGA had moved in and taken up all their space. They had been very noisy before and got lots of attention. But now it was Mr. MAGA who made the most noise and got the most attention. He sat at the head of the table even if it was oval. Wherever he sat was the head of the table, he would say. Everyone listened to him and called him Mr. Hatter.

His real name was Donald. He always wore a red baseball cap with MAGA words on it. He spoke angry a lot. And said the most wondrously strange things. That’s why behind his back they called him the Mad Hatter. Just not to his face, which had the most curious tint of orange about it.

He was particularly angry today. About a faraway place run by “deranged scumbags” and “crazy bastards,” he called them. They were being mean to him, he said to Alice, the Hare, and the Dormouse.

“I was very civil to them,” said the Hatter. “I only hurt them once. I could have hurt them more, but I didn’t.”

Susie Alice nodded sagely and sighed. She did that a lot. It was better than saying anything because that sometimes made the Mad Hatter madder. I don’t want that; she would tell herself.

“Have some tea,” said Marco the Hare to no one in particular, but really to Donald. He travelled a lot to other places but not the faraway place. They always served tea and somehow it made things better.

“I don’t drink tea. Besides the cup is empty. Who drinks tea from an empty cup?” growled Mr. Hatter. “Where’s the button? I want a Coke.”

Dormouse Pete stirred suddenly from beneath the tea table. “Button?” he yelled. “I want to push the button! I do that best of all.”

“I didn’t mean that button,” said Mad Donald in his red hat. “You have to say what you mean not mean what you say.”

Oh, good. A riddle thought Susie Alice. “I like riddles,” she now spoke. “That’s a game I can play.”

She furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. “But I don’t know the answer to that riddle, Mr. Hatter.”

“That’s because there is no answer,” said Mr. Hatter. “If I say what I mean, I must mean what I say. But then I get confused about whether I meant it or not. So. It’s best to just say one thing one day and something else the next day.”

“That will push people’s buttons!” chuckled Dormouse Pete. He began to undo his shirt’s buttons. “Let’s do some pushups,” he suggested.

But Mr. Hatter was still too mad to watch little Pete do pushups. “Keep your shirt on,” he directed. “We need to bomb someone and something. Now.”

“But who and what?” asked Marco Hare.

“How about everyone and everything?” Dormouse Pete offered helpfully.

“Good idea. We’ll bomb them back to the Stone Age,” cried Mr. Hatter, suddenly not so mad anymore. This was fun, he thought. He liked throwing stones at things when he was growing up and this sounded even better.

“We could bomb them so much that it makes the rubble bounce!” He liked the way that sounded. He even thought he meant it. At least it sounded like he did. And that was the main thing.

Susie Alice furrowed her brow again. She didn’t like the way that made her face look. But when she gazed in the looking glass, more and more she didn’t always recognize what gazed back at her. Unlike her faces in Vanity Fair.

“What happens after that?” she asked quietly.

“After what?” asked Mr. Hatter.

“After they are bombed. Will they start being nice and let the boats they stopped sail through their special strait?”

Marco Hare suddenly had a thought. What if they did all this bombing and things stayed the same or got worse? That seemed important but he couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly why. So, he said nothing.

“It doesn’t matter what they do. It matters what I do,” said Mr. Hatter. Then he smiled. He had a thought. “Better still. It matters what I don’t do.”

Was this another riddle, wondered Susie Alice?

No, it was an idea. A Mad Hatter idea.

“We will bomb them until we decide not to bomb them,” exclaimed Mr. Hatter. “That way we show everyone who’s in charge. And that’s me.”

“Isn’t that just being mad?” Marco Hare piped up carefully.

But Mr. Hatter just smacked his hand loudly on the table. “Look everyone, going to war is no tea party.”

David McLaughlin is a former clerk of the executive council and cabinet secretary in the Manitoba government.