displaying a definitive collection of hats: beaver, homburg, derby, tricorne, fedora, slouch, bowler, fez, stovepipe, even a king’s bejeweled crown.
A frail carillon from three tin bells announced George’s entrance. The Mad Tea Party was dark and musty. It was also, he surmised, extremely popular – customers jammed the shop to the walls – but then he realized that this impression owed entirely to the several dozen mannequins stationed about, their reflections inhabiting a multitude of full-length mirrors. Like the hats in the front window, the mannequins’ clothing was extraordinarily varied, with no fashion or era neglected. George moved through a tangled mass of gowns, togas, kimonos, doublets, jerkins, sarongs, crinolines, tunics, and shining armor. Could these all be scopas suits? he wondered. Had Theophilus Carter figured out how to combine deterrence with style?
‘So tell me, my good man, why is a raven like a writing desk?’ A British accent, precise, aristocratic.
George stumbled free of the congested clothing like a jungle explorer breaking into a clearing. ‘What?’
Behind the counter sat the most disturbingly comic person he had ever seen. The salesman was beetle-browed, sharp-nosed, rabbit-toothed, and small. Polka dots speckled his large four-in-hand tie. Wild red hair escaped from beneath his top hat.
‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’ the salesman said again. He rushed forward, rubbing his hands together as if lathering a bar of soap. He was on the downward side of middle age, yet his voice and movements had a robust, rat-a-tat quality. ‘A vulture then.’ He issued a chuckle that might have come from a jack-in-the-box. ‘Why is a vulture like a writing desk?’
‘I’m not here for riddles.’
‘I can tell you why a vulture is like a raven, but the answer is distasteful, involving carrion and bad table manners.’ The squeal of automobile brakes suddenly penetrated the shop from Moonburn Alley, conjuring up images of narrowly averted death. ‘The human body is an egg. “Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall: Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall. All the King’s horses and—” Now why in the world would anybody expect horses to be able to put an egg back together? People were naive in those days.’
‘I’m looking for Professor Carter.’
The salesman pulled off his top hat, and his hair spilled out like released champagne. ‘Also known as the Tailor of Thermonuclear Terror. Also known as the Sartor of the Second Strike. Also known as the MAD Hatter.’
Now we’re getting somewhere, George told himself, although he sensed that this situation would not endure.
‘But if I am the Mutual Assured Destruction Hatter,’ Theophilus trilled, ‘then where is the Mutual Assured Destruction Tea Party? In Geneva, of course. Entry number three in the Strategic, Tactical, and Anti-Ballistic Limitation and Equalization talks – STABLE III to you. The Soviets and the Americans sit down at the STABLE table, and the Soviets say, “We don’t like that MAD Hatter you’ve got sitting over there. Nobody mutually assures Mother Russia’s destruction.” And the Americans reply, “Then meet the MARCH Hare, named for our new war-fighting strategy, Modulated Attacks in Response to Counterforce Hostilities. MARCH puts the fun back in nuclear war – you can actually do MARCH.” ’
‘I really don’t want to hear about this, Professor Carter.’
‘Quiet, sir! So the MARCH Hare comes bounding in, and Alice says, “Now that Russia’s forces are the same as America’s, both sides will make reductions.” And the Hare says, “Russia’s forces are not the same as America’s, they are equivalent, which means you’ll get reductions when Frosty the Snowman conquers hell.” ’
‘Professor Carter, I am losing patience,’ George snapped.
‘Hold your tongue, sir! “And don’t forget,” says the Hare, “they are equivalent because the Soviets began matching the American buildup necessitated
A frail carillon from three tin bells announced George’s entrance. The Mad Tea Party was dark and musty. It was also, he surmised, extremely popular – customers jammed the shop to the walls – but then he realized that this impression owed entirely to the several dozen mannequins stationed about, their reflections inhabiting a multitude of full-length mirrors. Like the hats in the front window, the mannequins’ clothing was extraordinarily varied, with no fashion or era neglected. George moved through a tangled mass of gowns, togas, kimonos, doublets, jerkins, sarongs, crinolines, tunics, and shining armor. Could these all be scopas suits? he wondered. Had Theophilus Carter figured out how to combine deterrence with style?
‘So tell me, my good man, why is a raven like a writing desk?’ A British accent, precise, aristocratic.
George stumbled free of the congested clothing like a jungle explorer breaking into a clearing. ‘What?’
Behind the counter sat the most disturbingly comic person he had ever seen. The salesman was beetle-browed, sharp-nosed, rabbit-toothed, and small. Polka dots speckled his large four-in-hand tie. Wild red hair escaped from beneath his top hat.
‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’ the salesman said again. He rushed forward, rubbing his hands together as if lathering a bar of soap. He was on the downward side of middle age, yet his voice and movements had a robust, rat-a-tat quality. ‘A vulture then.’ He issued a chuckle that might have come from a jack-in-the-box. ‘Why is a vulture like a writing desk?’
‘I’m not here for riddles.’
‘I can tell you why a vulture is like a raven, but the answer is distasteful, involving carrion and bad table manners.’ The squeal of automobile brakes suddenly penetrated the shop from Moonburn Alley, conjuring up images of narrowly averted death. ‘The human body is an egg. “Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall: Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall. All the King’s horses and—” Now why in the world would anybody expect horses to be able to put an egg back together? People were naive in those days.’
‘I’m looking for Professor Carter.’
The salesman pulled off his top hat, and his hair spilled out like released champagne. ‘Also known as the Tailor of Thermonuclear Terror. Also known as the Sartor of the Second Strike. Also known as the MAD Hatter.’
Now we’re getting somewhere, George told himself, although he sensed that this situation would not endure.
‘But if I am the Mutual Assured Destruction Hatter,’ Theophilus trilled, ‘then where is the Mutual Assured Destruction Tea Party? In Geneva, of course. Entry number three in the Strategic, Tactical, and Anti-Ballistic Limitation and Equalization talks – STABLE III to you. The Soviets and the Americans sit down at the STABLE table, and the Soviets say, “We don’t like that MAD Hatter you’ve got sitting over there. Nobody mutually assures Mother Russia’s destruction.” And the Americans reply, “Then meet the MARCH Hare, named for our new war-fighting strategy, Modulated Attacks in Response to Counterforce Hostilities. MARCH puts the fun back in nuclear war – you can actually do MARCH.” ’
‘I really don’t want to hear about this, Professor Carter.’
‘Quiet, sir! So the MARCH Hare comes bounding in, and Alice says, “Now that Russia’s forces are the same as America’s, both sides will make reductions.” And the Hare says, “Russia’s forces are not the same as America’s, they are equivalent, which means you’ll get reductions when Frosty the Snowman conquers hell.” ’
‘Professor Carter, I am losing patience,’ George snapped.
‘Hold your tongue, sir! “And don’t forget,” says the Hare, “they are equivalent because the Soviets began matching the American buildup necessitated
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