A Week of Secundus Christmas, Day Six: Pudding
This one was born out of the need to fill a gap -- I summarized "A Week of Secundus Christmas" for Butterfly Boy's old LiveJournal haunt charloft back when I was writing it (there was a prompt for "tell us about a holiday special your characters might star in," and my predecided Christmas shenanigans fit the bill), but realized I had nothing for the last two days of the week. For this one, I recalled a Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland fic where Alice baked a Christmas pudding (unfortunately, the name has long since left my head). It seems to be an English tradition, so I threw it in there. I decided to set this one at the tea table because "Secundus" itself wasn't lending itself to tea parties at the time, and I like writing for the March Hare. That was followed by the idea of Victor threatening to give someone antennae, and the rest just followed from there. March's use of a spoon as a potential weapon and the squimberry tarts are also holdovers from Tim's Alice (seriously, how can you not like the name 'squimberry?') . Setting the pudding ablaze -- that's real. English people have a weird obsession with Christmas food that is ON FIRE. Look up what snapdragons really are some time.
“You are late for tea!”
Victor dodged the teacup that came sailing his way. “Actually, according to my watch, we are precisely on time,” he said, although he knew it wouldn’t make any difference to March.
“Everyone else is already here!”
“We were early, March,” Marty pointed out, indicating for Alice and Victor to sit next to him and Doc.
“Then why weren’t they early as well?”
“Ferdinand didn’t want us to stop giving him attention,” Alice explained, sitting down. “It’s amazing how affectionate an oversized butterfly can be.”
“It’s my own fault for deciding that he should be like my old dog Scraps when it came time to advance his nervous system,” Victor said, eyeing the Christmas pudding directly in front of his plate. “So, are we serving ourselves, or--”
“None for you,” March said, pulling the pudding out of his reach. “You were late. You can whatever else you want, but no pudding.”
“What? We were on time!” Victor protested, standing up again to try and grab the pudding.
“No! Naughty!” the March Hare said, pulling the pudding close to himself. “Our pudding. Not yours.”
“March, are you seriously trying to deny Victor food?” Alice said, looking amused.
There was a pause. “One can try, can’t they?” March said after a moment, grabbing his spoon and pointing it at Victor.
Victor glowered at him. “March, either you give me a slice or I give you a pair of antennae.”
“Really? Actually, that sounds like it would be really neat! Would I be able to communicate with ants?”
“. . .I keep forgetting I can’t use threats like that on you. Fine then – keep the pudding. I’ll eat all the squimberry tarts instead.”
Moments later, Victor expertly caught the pudding as it was launched at him. “I knew you’d see reason,” he said, as the March Hare pulled a face at him. “Shall we set it ablaze, or just eat?”
Victor dodged the teacup that came sailing his way. “Actually, according to my watch, we are precisely on time,” he said, although he knew it wouldn’t make any difference to March.
“Everyone else is already here!”
“We were early, March,” Marty pointed out, indicating for Alice and Victor to sit next to him and Doc.
“Then why weren’t they early as well?”
“Ferdinand didn’t want us to stop giving him attention,” Alice explained, sitting down. “It’s amazing how affectionate an oversized butterfly can be.”
“It’s my own fault for deciding that he should be like my old dog Scraps when it came time to advance his nervous system,” Victor said, eyeing the Christmas pudding directly in front of his plate. “So, are we serving ourselves, or--”
“None for you,” March said, pulling the pudding out of his reach. “You were late. You can whatever else you want, but no pudding.”
“What? We were on time!” Victor protested, standing up again to try and grab the pudding.
“No! Naughty!” the March Hare said, pulling the pudding close to himself. “Our pudding. Not yours.”
“March, are you seriously trying to deny Victor food?” Alice said, looking amused.
There was a pause. “One can try, can’t they?” March said after a moment, grabbing his spoon and pointing it at Victor.
Victor glowered at him. “March, either you give me a slice or I give you a pair of antennae.”
“Really? Actually, that sounds like it would be really neat! Would I be able to communicate with ants?”
“. . .I keep forgetting I can’t use threats like that on you. Fine then – keep the pudding. I’ll eat all the squimberry tarts instead.”
Moments later, Victor expertly caught the pudding as it was launched at him. “I knew you’d see reason,” he said, as the March Hare pulled a face at him. “Shall we set it ablaze, or just eat?”