Mad Hatter Sped Up -

"Why is he... so fast?" Alice whispered, shielding her eyes from the strobe-light effect of the Hatter’s movements.

The March Hare sat frozen, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, eyes wide as the Hatter rearranged the entire table three times in a single second. The bread, the jam, the sleeping Dormouse—all of them were flickering in and out of place like a glitching dream. mad hatter sped up

The tea party wasn't just late; it was vibrating. Hatter wasn't sitting; he was a blur of plaid and frantic energy, his limbs moving like a film reel set to triple speed. He didn't pour the tea; he shattered the concept of pouring. One moment the porcelain pot was upright, the next, twelve cups were full, steaming, and already cold from the sheer wind of his movement. "Why is he

With a sudden pop of displaced air, the table was empty. The tea was gone. The Hatter was gone. All that remained was the faint, high-pitched ringing of a clock that had finally given up on keeping track of him. The bread, the jam, the sleeping Dormouse—all of

"He drank the Quick-Silver Pekoe," the Hare muttered, not moving a muscle for fear of being decapitated by a flying saucer. "He’s living three Thursdays at once."